Learning from Light: Painting in Compressed Values

As a still life artist and painter working in the Northern Rivers region, just near the Gold Coast, I find that painting challenges often reveal more than expected. In Episode 4 of our youtube channel/podcast, Seabastion Toast and I tackled a deceptively simple theme: backlit. It ended up taking both of us into unfamiliar territory — technically and emotionally.

While my usual practice often centres around bird paintings and figurative work, we had set the challenge to paint something with backlighting, where the subject is drenched in shadow and the light comes from behind. I had set up various still life arrangements but the difficulty of painting something while glaring into a bright light and trying to capture this on video, was a bit much. So I opted for a creative solution/challenge: could I create a backlit scene from a non-backlit photo?

At first glance, it seemed straightforward — light from behind, subjects in shadow — but it pushed me technically and conceptually in ways I didn’t expect.

Painting a subject from behind — painting the “back of light” as we called it — removes detail and forces a focus on tone. It’s not about the subject anymore; it becomes about shadow, light, and what they suggest emotionally. The subject loses everything… but yet it says so much maybe about the scene rather than the subject itself. I chose to paint a horse and rider — a subject with personal meaning, drawn from a photo of a horse I used to ride. The original image wasn’t obviously backlit, but I wanted to create a strong sense of light in the final painting. I edited the image digitally to see if I could compress it into three main values, inspired by Glen Dean’s work. Then I jumped straight into painting. That was my first mistake.

I usually tell my students: get rid of the white of the canvas. But I ignored my own advice, and it caused no end of trouble. I had to repaint the work lighter three times. I kept trying to find the right balance between contrast and softness — that elusive backlit glow. I also had to completely change the markings on the horse. Originally a paint horse with white legs, I dropped the white altogether to reduce contrast and get closer to the mood I was after. The result? A plain brown horse. Sometimes, technical challenges force you to simplify — and that can lead to stronger decisions.

In painting, I often think about restraint. I enjoy the process of pulling back — taking things out instead of adding more in. Toast commented that I show a lot of restraint in my work, and I think that’s true these days. It is something I am aiming for in my work anyway. It’s not about hiding meaning but revealing just enough to draw the viewer in. Painting from life has taught me that — you see differently. Even when I work from photos, I try to hold onto that awareness.

For this painting, I was particularly focused on tonal structure — simplifying everything into 3 zones of light and shadow. I love the clarity that brings. You paint the lights, you paint the shadows, and you work toward the middle. I think of it like setting up a puzzle. When the tones are well organised, the painting starts to fall into place.

We also talked in this episode about how light can shift the story of a painting. When you backlight a subject, you lose a lot of detail — but you gain atmosphere. It’s less about the person or object and more about the environment and feeling. And that’s something I want to explore more. Even though my background includes Australian bird art and bird wall art, what I’m always really chasing is that emotional weight — whether it’s through a teacup, a figure, or a shadow falling across a room.

As a Gold Coast artist, I often find myself looking at how light interacts with forms in the everyday — not just in nature, but in quiet, human moments. In this particular painting, I ended up using a blue filter, partly to echo a sense of night. I liked the idea of the horse and rider moving together in darkness, with just enough light to trust each other. That bond, that isolation — it’s powerful. It’s not just a technical exercise; it’s narrative.

At the end of the day, I don’t paint to prove anything to anyone. I’ve entered awards. I’ve won things. But those external markers don’t really move me. If anything, I’ve learned to be careful about who I let influence my work. These days, that’s mostly just me.

If you’re following my work — whether it’s my bird paintings, still life pieces, or tonal studies — thank you. Whether you’re collecting bird wall art or connecting with something more figurative, I hope you’re finding something that speaks to you in a quiet, lasting way.