Why I Paint - An Artist's Confession

There are questions that seem simple on the surface but, when explored deeper, reveal endless layers of complexity. "Why do you paint?" is one of them. I've heard this question hundreds of times, and I've answered it in a thousand different ways.

In interviews, my answer is often polished, constructed, almost academic. I talk about artistic influences, technique, personal evolution. I might quote some great masters, mention my journey, my exhibitions. It's the public version, the one that reassures, that legitimizes.

During exhibition openings or evenings with friends, my answer becomes lighter, more accessible. I mention a childhood passion, an inspiring art teacher, a particular turning point. It's the social version, the one that builds bridges, that invites conversation.

But the truth? The real truth?

I paint because it's what I know how to do. It's an evidence so deeply anchored within me that it becomes almost physical. Like breathing, like walking. It's not a question of talent or choice - it's a visceral necessity. My hands know the path to the canvas just as roots know the path to water.

I paint because that's where I feel alive. Not the half-toned life we sometimes lead, caught in the whirlwind of daily routine. No, I'm talking about that intense, vibrant life where every moment counts double. In my studio, facing my canvas, time takes on another dimension. Hours flow like minutes, or stretch into infinity. It's a space outside of time where everything becomes possible.

I paint because it's my path back to myself. In a world that constantly pulls us outward, that scatters us, that fragments us, painting is my anchor. It's my moment of truth, where masks fall away, where appearances fade. Facing the canvas, I cannot lie - it relentlessly reflects my own truth back to me.

Some people meditate, others run marathons, still others write in diaries. I paint. It's my way of making sense of chaos, of processing joys and sorrows, of transforming the ordinary into something larger than itself.

Painting isn't just a creative act - it's an act of faith. Faith in art's ability to transcend the ordinary. Faith in the possibility of creating beauty even in dark moments. Faith in this silent dialogue between artist and canvas, which sometimes becomes a conversation with the entire universe.

I paint because each canvas is a new chance to understand, to explore, to grow. Each brushstroke is a question, each color a possibility, each composition a new territory to discover.

I paint because not painting would be like stopping breathing. It would mean giving up that part of me that vibrates, that dreams, that hopes. It would mean accepting a life in black and white when I know the world is made of infinite shades.

I paint because it's my way of being in the world. My way of being true. My way of being whole.

It's as simple and as complicated as that.

And you, what is your creative truth? What is that gesture, that passion, that necessity that makes you feel more alive, more true, more yourself?