My Take on Impasto / Painterly Painting

Texture, Gesture, and Atmosphere

As an artist who practices in interdisciplinary media, I spend time in planning the media in which I feel each concept will be best expressed, and just how I will go about it. As a landscape painter, I naturally find myself reflecting on how technique shapes the mood and meaning of a painting. Two terms that frequently describe my work are impasto and painterly—and while they might sound like technical jargon, they’re deeply connected to how I approach making art and telling stories through paint.

In my practice, I draw from both traditions, balancing thick texture with fluid gesture, aiming to capture the ever-changing atmospheric quality of the landscapes that surround me. But more importantly, these techniques help me comment—subtly—on the resilience, adaptability, and optimism I see in both the land and the people of South Africa.

Impasto: Honoring the Landscape's Physicality, But with Restraint

For me, there’s something undeniably satisfying about building up paint on a surface—the tactile quality of pushing and sculpting tacky materials into formations and observing how imagery and texture develops delights this artist's heart. I do love the weight and presence that impasto can give to a painting. In areas of my landscapes, I’ll use a palette knife or a stiff brush to create ridges and peaks, allowing the paint to become almost sculptural. These thicker passages might highlight the rough texture of the landscape, bring forgotten architecture into focus, highlight a quirky sign or the rise of a distant hill catching the last light of day.

But here’s the thing - I’ve learned to hold back. For me, impasto works best when it’s used intentionally—as a focal point that draws the eye or adds emphasis to a part of the composition. At times I do utilise impasto to create unity, patterns or paths within works, but - it does not dominate the outcomes. Too much impasto everywhere, and the painting risks becoming visually noisy, tipping into something overly decorative or, frankly, rather kitsch. That’s not the kind of experience I want to create in my work. I’m after something quieter, more reflective and imbued with interesting sculptural textures. So I let the thicker areas breathe, surrounded by softer transitions and thinly painted washes that evoke light, air, and distance.

Painterly Techniques: Capturing the Energy of Atmosphere

Alongside those built-up areas of impasto layers, I embrace a painterly approach—loose brushwork, visible gestures, and blended color transitions that mirror the atmospheric shifts in the landscapes form in my layering process. I can't tell you how many layers my work starts and ends with, but it is quite a substantial number. In the top layers I get to play with the fluidity of paint, allowing colours to merge on the surface by creating subtle overlaying gradients that feel like dawn mist rolling over fields or the golden haze of an afternoon sky.

I love how painterly techniques leave space for suggestion rather than certainty. A smudge becomes a distant form that the mind is left to make sense of. A streak of color hints at a road disappearing into the distance. This looseness gives the work a sense of movement and spontaneity, something I find deeply connected to the spirit of the South African landscape—unpredictable, dynamic and always in flux.

---

A Deliberate Balance: Avoiding the Overdone

Finding the balance between impasto and painterly outcomes has been a process of learning, experimenting, and editing over the years. There’s a temptation (especially when you love texture as much as I do) to add more—another thick stroke here, a few more layers there. But over time, I’ve come to appreciate restraint and listening to the voice inside that knows just when enough is just right.

I’ve seen how easy it can be for paintings to lean into overworked surfaces, where texture becomes a gimmick rather than a meaningful gesture. I’m cautious about not letting impasto become a crutch or using it simply for the sake of visual impact. Instead, I focus on what each conceptual framework and area of the painting needs in the composition. Sometimes that’s a thick, bold gesture; sometimes it’s a delicate glaze of detail that allows the viewer to pause and reflect.

How This Connects to My Themes

At the heart of my work is a quiet commentary on the socio-political landscape of South Africa—subtle reflections on how land and structure is used, abandoned, and reclaimed. My paintings often depict outskirt landscapes and forgotten places, but I approach these spaces with a sense of optimism. Nature returns. Life continues. People make a plan.

That’s where the balance of impasto and painterly comes in

The impasto speaks to resilience and the physical presence of land formations and memory. The painterly gestures evoke the ephemeral, possibility, and ever-changing, suggesting a future always in motion.

I am obsessed with colour and use it boldly - bright and burnt - rich ochres, deep blues, and pops of unexpected hues. These colors don’t just describe the landscape; they celebrate its energy and its potential. It’s my way of reflecting the resourcefulness and optimism that runs through South African culture—the spirit of “making a plan”, even when circumstances are tough.

Final Thoughts: An Invitation to Experience Texture and Atmosphere

As much as my work explores texture and atmosphere, it’s ultimately about creating a space where viewers can pause, reflect, and maybe find a bit of quiet hope and appreciation for the beauty that surrounds us. The balance of impasto and painterly isn’t just a technical choice—it’s part of the story I’m telling. One of resilience, renewal, and the beauty of places that are often overlooked.

So next time you stand in front of one of my landscapes, I invite you to take a moment to notice the way the light hits the textured areas, how the brushstrokes move, and how the colours shift. There’s a rhythm there, an intentional balance - a small, quiet reflection of how we all find our way forward.

I'd Like to Hear From You

Have you ever stood in a place that felt forgotten yet made you forget all on your mind, a place that held its own quiet power? Or found beauty in the rough edges of the landscape and off the track ways of living? I’d love to hear your stories and reflections. Feel free to drop an email or connect with me on social media.

Until next time, thanks for spending this time with me in the virtual studio.