I recently came across a line by Maria Popova that resonated deeply with my practice as a painter and printmaker:
“Without the constraint of bones, there would be no wings.”
She writes about constraint not as an obstacle to creativity, but as its catalyst — something that gives form to possibility. I’ve found that to be true in my own work again and again.
For much of my career, I’ve chosen to work within the boundaries of landscape. That might seem limiting, especially in a time when artists often feel compelled to constantly reinvent themselves. But for me, it’s become a kind of discipline. A narrowing of focus that allows for deepening rather than expansion.
Lately, I’ve noticed the same dynamic at play in my printmaking. I’ve just completed a set of 64 new screen prints, each made with just two layers of colour, sometimes with a small hand-finished element, like a small coloured shape or line of dots. It might sound restrictive, but I’ve been surprised by how much can be said within those limitations. The results feel more distilled, and the work can hold a real freshness.
There’s something quietly liberating about working within boundaries. Less can indeed be more.
What boundaries, chosen or otherwise, have helped shape your own creativity or way of living?
