"How Long DId That Take you?"

At the Chatham Festival of the Arts, August 2026

At my public-facing events, I'm in my studio, my tent, or at a table. I hang up all my work, display  everything carefully on tables, and put all my giclée prints in the rack. I am ready to greet visitors and buyers who have lots of curious questions! It is fun to chat about art, inspiration, and beauty... or to geek out on technical questions about paint, tools, and materials.

Of all the questions I get, "How long did it take you to paint that?" is the #1 most frequently asked question. It gets asked every single time I show my work in public. I reply, "I don't log my hours, so I couldn't say," or sometimes to satisfy their curiosity I'll say, "A few months." Both are true. In all honesty, I believe each painting draws on over 30 years of painting experience, because I've been taking painting seriously and being paid for my artwork since I was 16 years old.  

I don't measure how long it takes to paint a painting.  If it is a commission, and the client needs it by a deadline, then I'll definitely work to make sure it happens - that is a different story. Otherwise, measuring time to complete a painting feels like a moot point. Sometimes I have three or more paintings going at the same time, and I switch according to whichever one I want to work on. To me, it would feel too complicated and silly to log hours on each one. When it's done, it's done, that's how I see it! 

Maybe folks are more familiar with music, which exists in a timebound framework, such as "That song took 5 minutes for the pianist to play on piano, and therefore took me 5 minutes to listen to." But they forget all the years of lessons, the hours of practice that the pianist had to invest to get to that level of being excellent... that exposes the more truthful answer... which is "decades" not "hours."

When I'm painting, I get fully absorbed in the work and I lose track of time. This is why I like to have chatter on in the background, on a podcast or a radio show; it helps me keep pace with the reality of time, while I'm in the 'zone' and not watching the clock. That way, when a podcast episode concludes and there is a transition, I know a chunk of time has passed, even if subconsciously.  Sometimes I have to set an alarm on my phone if there is a certain time I need to get ready to leave. I purposely do not hang a clock on the wall near my easel. That would cause me to feel too bound to time, like a task master, and that's the last thing I want when I'm in the studio.

I stand at the easel, usually the whole time. I like to move around and step back often to make sure it's going in the direction I want. I make progress on the work, and make revisions all the time. I give myself lots of time. I feel that most, if not all, of my paintings will be going to permanent homes, and I want each one to be as good as possible. If it's going to hang on someone's walls for years and years, I want to spend as much time as I feel is necessary to bring it to completion. I believe in quality over quantity. If it has to be a coin toss between the two, I choose quality every time.

I have a mat to stand on to proactively take care of my feet and joints (the poured concrete floors of the factory building are unforgiving otherwise). I have professional easels which I can move my canvases up and down on, so I'm not straining my neck or arms to reach beyond what is ergonomically appropriate. I take breaks to have a snack, walk around, or sit down for a few minutes as I get mentally tired from focusing for long periods on my feet.  

I paint in 'session blocks,' up to 4 hours, and that is usually appropriate painting time for me for one day. This means about 5 hours in the studio, but it can be more... if I am there to do other jobs too, such as organizing, cleaning up, watering plants, talking to other artists, or checking on the adjacent gallery space. It's nice to have a few other things to do there which helps me to walk around, take mental breaks, or have transitions in my workflow.

And this is only the studio part of my business! I haven't talked about the time it takes to get my finished work photographed, apply to galleries and shows, keep in touch with consultants, gallerists, and clients, update my website, fulfill print orders... so my time is about 50/50 - 50% in the studio, 50% all the supporting work.

Maybe time metrics are important in some cases, but I'm not sure that's important in how I think about making my art. Hard things take time. Good things take time. Excellent things take even more time! In the longterm view of a career in art, one never fully "arrives." There is more to uncover and learn, and the hope is that we artists are always evolving and developing as long as we wish to continue to produce. I am OK with spending lots of time in my life to make art.