What Picasso taught me about paper, play, and why I’m embracing small studies.

One of the most liberating discoveries I’ve made recently wasn’t about colour.

It was about size.

Picasso’s Still Life with Guitar (1919) is only about the size of a postcard. Insured for an estimated 600,000 euros, it is painted in gouache and graphite on paper, and reminds us that great art doesn’t have to be monumental to be unforgettable.

Many artists can feel pressure to create bigger, larger, grander works. Yet here was one of history’s greatest painters reminding us that significance isn’t measured in centimetres.

Sometimes the smallest painting holds the biggest idea.

That discovery has transformed my own practice here in Panama.

Surrounded by the extraordinary light of the rainforest, I’ve begun creating dozens of small studies on archival paper. These aren’t “practice pieces.” They’re moments of discovery—experiments with transparent glazes, luminous greens, vibrant magentas, and the ever-changing dance of sunlight through the jungle canopy.

Every painting teaches me something.

A new colour combination.

A new quality of light.

A mark I couldn’t have planned.

A feeling I want to explore on a larger canvas.

It’s become a joyful conversation between curiosity and colour.

I often think of these little works as seeds.

Some will grow into large paintings.

Others will remain exactly as they are—complete expressions of a fleeting moment, preserving the wonder of standing beneath a living cathedral of leaves as the light filters through the trees.

I’ve discovered that paper offers a wonderful freedom. It invites play rather than perfection. Experiment rather than expectation. And sometimes that’s where the most exciting work begins.

As Picasso reminds us, greatness doesn’t always arrive on the largest canvas.

Sometimes it arrives quietly. During a play date with a small sheet of paper. Waiting patiently for someone willing to come a little closer and fall in love with the possibilities.

Like Lee and Cliff who commissioned two large scale paintings after falling in love with several of my joyous wee gems. You can see their reaction here>>

Or like Catherine who’d love to own some of my new works on paper and wrote to me:

Why Cecily Brown Inspires My Joyous Wee Gems

There are certain artists whose work doesn’t simply influence what I paint; they influence how I think about painting itself.

For me, one of those artists is Cecily Brown.

What I love most about her work is the tension she creates between chaos and order, abstraction and recognition. Her paintings are alive with movement. At first glance they can feel wild, energetic, almost overwhelming. But then, if you stay with them, forms begin to emerge. Fragments of figures. A gesture. A memory. A suggestion of landscape. Something half-seen and half-remembered.

She trusts the viewer.

She doesn’t explain everything.

She allows mystery to remain.

That is something I aspire to in my own work.

As an artist, I am fascinated by the idea that a painting can reveal itself slowly. That someone might walk past it and see colour and movement, but on the second viewing discover something deeper. And on the tenth viewing discover something else again.

Another thing I admire enormously is the way she moves between scales.

Her tiny paintings are intimate and jewel-like. They invite you to come closer. They ask for attention and contemplation. They prove that a painting doesn’t have to be enormous to possess power. She says that they are not studies but fully resolved paintings in there own world.

Her large works are immersive experiences. They surround you. You don’t simply look at them; you enter them.

I find that deeply inspiring as I work on my own series.

Thank you for following this journey with me. Your encouragement gives me the courage to keep exploring, playing, and trusting where the paintings want to lead.

Beauty is medicine. Joy is the masterpiece.

P.S. A reminder that I’ll be releasing my Joyous Wee Gems mini collection soon.

I’d love to know—which of these small studies speaks to you most? Simply hit reply and tell me the number or describe the one that caught your eye. Your responses often influence which paintings I develop into larger works.

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