"Burn & Fire": Reflections on My Painting

Art has a unique ability to evoke a spectrum of interpretations from its viewers, often revealing more about the observer than the subject itself. My painting, Burn & Fire, offers an example of how one artwork can be experienced in countless ways, depending on who’s looking at it. At first glance, its title might suggest a scene involving flames and destruction, but this couldn't be further from the truth. The name of this piece is deliberately chosen to spark curiosity and invite the viewer to explore beyond the surface. Despite its title, Burn & Fire isn't specifically about fire, nor is it locked into one narrative or emotion. In fact, after showing it to various people, I was struck by how differently it was perceived. Some saw in it a wheat field, others a snowy landscape, while still others imagined a storm of dandelion seed heads.

Measuring 30 inches by 30 inches, Burn & Fire is a square canvas designed to allow for balance and symmetry but with enough room for organic, free-flowing creativity. The painting is divided into two primary sections that, while contrasting in colour and texture, harmonize to create a dynamic tension.
The superior part of the painting is dominated by light blue tones, a colour that brings an airy, open feel to the piece. It could easily represent the sky or any number of serene natural elements. To add complexity to this space, I introduced textured grey and white dots. These seemingly random specks introduce an element of unpredictability, almost like scattered seeds or snowflakes, depending on how one chooses to interpret them. I like to think of this part of the painting as a reflection of open possibilities—each dot contributing to an overall sense of freedom and motion.

The lower portion of the canvas is where things become more grounded, with a mix of white, beige, gold, and textured paste creating an earthy, tactile surface. The gold introduces warmth and light, while the textured paste lends a three-dimensional quality to the painting, inviting the viewer to engage not just with their eyes but also with their sense of touch. This section feels more structured and solid, yet remains open to interpretation.
The blending of these two distinct areas—the calm, open space of the blue sky-like superior part and the rich, textured lower portion—creates a powerful visual dichotomy that draws the eye in and holds it there. Each section complements the other, forming a balance that feels spontaneous yet intentional. It’s a reflection of my creative process, where I often let my instincts guide me, allowing the painting to take shape naturally.

What fascinates me most about Burn & Fire is how differently it has been interpreted by the people who have viewed it. One of the first interpretations that stuck with me was someone seeing a wheat field. They described the textured dots as seeds floating in the air, the blue as a sky on a hot summer day, and the gold tones at the bottom as ripe, sun-drenched wheat swaying in the wind. It was an image of abundance and warmth, something familiar yet deeply personal to their experience.

Another person saw something entirely different—a snowy landscape. To them, the light blue was a cold winter sky, and the grey and white dots were snowflakes gently falling. The textured gold, white, and beige mixture at the bottom was not a field but rather snow-covered ground, shimmering in the pale sunlight. This interpretation added a sense of quietness and calm to the painting that I hadn't considered during its creation.
A third viewer saw a storm of dandelion seed heads, the dots representing seeds blown by the wind, drifting through the air. The inferior part was not earth or snow, but rather the background of a field of dandelions ready to spread their seeds. This interpretation infused the painting with a sense of movement and change, a moment captured in time when nature was in the process of renewal.

I’ve always enjoyed the unpredictability that comes with creating art. Often, my pieces start with a vague idea or emotion, but as I begin to work, the painting takes on a life of its own. Burn and Fire is no exception. The title came to me in the midst of creation, not as a reflection of fire in its literal sense, but as a nod to the burning energy behind the creative process itself. There’s a certain intensity to making art that can feel like fire—a passion that drives you to keep going, layering colors, textures, and shapes until the piece finally feels complete.
What I love most about this painting, and much of my other work, is the space it leaves for personal interpretation. I’ve always believed that art is a dialogue between the artist and the viewer. My job is to create something that sparks thought and emotion; what the viewer sees in it is equally important, if not more so. Each person brings their own experiences, memories, and emotions to the table, and it is through that lens that they experience the artwork.
The range of interpretations for Burn & Fire—from a warm wheat field to a cold snowy day to a whimsical storm of dandelion seed heads—illustrates the subjective nature of art. No single interpretation is right or wrong. Each one adds to the richness of the piece, layering it with meaning I never could have anticipated. This is one of the things I cherish most about being an artist: I am constantly surprised by how people connect with my work in ways that I never intended but wholeheartedly embrace.

In Burn & Fire, I aimed to create something that feels spontaneous, organic, and open to interpretation. The contrasting textures and colours create a sense of balance that mirrors my own creative process—one that is both structured and intuitive. What I didn’t expect was how differently people would interpret this piece. From wheat fields to snowstorms to dandelion seed heads, this painting has become a mirror for its viewers, reflecting their own experiences and emotions.
This, to me, is the magic of art: it’s not just about what I create but about what others see in it. I hope that Burn & Fire continues to evoke a wide range of feelings and interpretations as more people experience it. After all, that’s the beauty of art—it’s never truly finished until someone else has seen it.