April 2025 / No.21

Notes on my art and creative process

When I was a kid, I was sooooo creatively free. Getting the idea onto paper was more important than subject matter accuracy (note my asterisk hands with eight fingers and our dog that I drew with black crayon, despite her being white in real life — but I sure nailed the vibe!).

As time went on, I learned about dimension, perspective, and a variety of art media (colored pencil, pastel, watercolor, etc.). Some avenues felt expansive and others constricting. I went through a phase when “that looks like a photograph” felt like a great compliment.

Starting in college, I shifted to a more simplified style that was still quite literal. I carefully selected which details to include and which to leave out. In the painting below, I was way more interested in drawing the curves of the octopus’s tentacles than including all the suckers.

This simplified style lasted for a long time, but that too became confining. Over the last few years, I have brought back more detail, albeit in a looser manner (can this “carefree” brushstroke capture the shocking light on that tree branch?). And lately, I am more intrigued by abstraction — not pure abstraction, but a lot more than I have done in the past. Towards Whitetail (below) is a good example of what I am aiming for. I like the flip between “I know what that is” and “Wait, what is that?”

My general outlook on life has evolved in a similar way to the artwork trajectory. Early on, I envisioned my future in high detail: I would work in animation (nope)… I would be published by 30 (more like 36)… I would build a giant house (nope again). Life happened, and continues to happen. I can either resist all the ambiguities or accept that it is never going to be a predictable journey.

What will happen next year, next month, or even next week? Who knows. I can only say what might happen in the next hour, like the clearly defined tree breaking the mountain contour in Near the Train Track (at the top of this newsletter). And what happens after that hour is a vague concept, like the looseness of the tree’s surroundings: is it morning or dusk? is that a snowy field or a frozen-over lake? is the sky clearing or clouding over? The focal point is lucid and the rest is made up of inklings and mystery.

For the most part, I’m more comfortable in this “less intensely defined” zone, mainly because trying to control life’s variables takes a lot of energy — as if one could bend the world to one’s will. When I focus on what is just in front of me, I trust the rest will take form as needed.

“Knowledge would be fatal. It is the uncertainty that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful.”
— OSCAR WILDE

Website: KevinTseng.com
Instagram: @DrawKevinDraw
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