The Ancient Within



In painting, it’s easy to lose touch with the instinct that makes you want to create in the first place. Between expectations, technique, and the pressure to produce something polished, the process can start to feel controlled and distant. But beneath all of that is something much more raw, a kind of impulse that doesn’t come from planning, but from feeling. Painting at its core isn’t just about skill or composition; it’s about reaching into something older and less filtered, something that exists before logic steps in. When you let yourself work from that place, the painting stops being about getting it “right” and starts becoming a direct extension of your inner world, your emotions, your tension, your curiosity, all moving through your hand without needing to be explained.

Working this way requires letting go of control, or at least loosening your grip on it. The most alive paintings often come from moments where you stop overthinking and simply respond, to the work in front of you, to the movement of your body, to whatever feels necessary in that instant. It can feel uncomfortable at first, even chaotic, but that’s where something honest begins to take shape. The marks become less calculated and more instinctive, and in that shift, the work gains a kind of energy that can’t be manufactured. It’s the difference between a painting that looks resolved and one that actually feels alive, where the viewer can sense the urgency, the vulnerability, the presence of the person who made it.

To paint from that place, you have to trust that not everything needs to be figured out ahead of time. You have to allow for silence, for space, for moments where you don’t quite know what you’re doing but keep going anyway. Sometimes it means stepping away from routine, changing your approach, or simply giving yourself permission to make something without worrying about the outcome. Because in the end, painting isn’t about control or perfection, it’s about connection. And the deeper you’re willing to go into that raw, instinctive part of yourself, the more your work will carry something real, something that reaches beyond the surface and lingers long after the paint has dried.

The Christopher Mudgett archive collection is the only one in the world to present the artist’s up-to-date painted, sculpted, engraved and illustrated œuvre and a precise record—through sketches, studies, drafts, notebooks, photos, books, films and documents—of the creative process.
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