Beyond Representation: Expressive Oil Seascapes as a Mirror of the Self

Detail from Today We Escape by Marina Syntelis, oil painting on canvas.

The Impossible Subject

The sea is the biggest challenge for any artist. It's constantly changing, and that's what makes it so difficult—and yet so compelling. It feels truly impossible to paint something that never stops moving—yet, that impossibility is what pushes artists to try again.

If you’ve tried to paint the ocean, you’ve likely found this difficult. It’s a challenge that has tested every master, but for oil painters, the real goal isn't just technical skill. It’s about using the canvas to make a link, letting the water mirror feelings and thoughts that haven't been admitted yet.

Observation and Intuition

Étretat, Sunset (Coucher de soleil) by Claude Monet, oil on canvas, c. 1883 (public domain)

Looking back in art history, the approach to painting the ocean has always been split between two main ideas.

On one side is the drive for pure observation, shown best by Claude Monet. His practice demanded continuous study, observing the sea "every day at every hour and from the same place," to capture its passing energy.

However, trying to be this exact was frustrating for many, including American artist Albert Pinkham Ryder. His efforts to capture light and form sometimes ended up looking like stiff, unconvincing textures, illustrating the immense difficulty the sea presents to the realist painter.

Silver Moon by Albert Pinkham Ryder, oil on wood panel, c. 1905-1915 (public domain)

On the opposite side is the world of imagination and inner vision, for example as represented by the Surrealist René Magritte. For Magritte, the real sea wasn't important; his expressive oil seascapes relied entirely on "the image in [his] head" for internal exploration.

This duality, between painting exactly what you see and painting what you feel, is the enduring challenge for any artist depicting the ocean. The final painted seascape often reflects a step deeper into the artist's own mind, moving beyond simple replication to portray feelings that are hard to describe.

My Approach to Creating Expressive Oil Seascapes

For me, intuition reveals itself during the slow process of layering.

I begin with thin washes of color, never sketching with pencil. With those first translucent washes, I create a personal space on the canvas — a kind of inner sea.

Then comes the delicate battle: I add detail, but the sea’s constant change forces me to adjust again and again. Every new layer may feel “wrong” when applied, because I’m chasing both the surface reality and my internal response to it.

Finally, I build fluid movement through transparent glazes. I mix paint with medium, keeping the paint thin, so light can penetrate and shimmer. This glazing process can feel endless — but it's also deeply satisfying. It’s in that repetition, that patience and layering, where the painting begins to breathe and embody motion and light.

Feeling and Connection

A seascape works when it becomes more than a picture of water. It doesn’t need perfect accuracy; what matters is whether it carries life, movement, and feeling. When someone stands in front of one of my paintings, I want them to be drawn in; to sense not only the sea, but the emotions behind each wave.

Sharing the process layer by layer lets others walk through that journey with me. Watching the painting evolve, seeing how transparency and instinct guide each me through each layer, creates its own quiet conversation. And in that shared moment between artist and viewer, something about the sea’s impossible nature suddenly feels true.

OIl Sketch 2024-3

Thank you for reading and joining me on this journey into my creative process. If my approach resonates with you, or if you’ve ever felt the call of the sea in your own work, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please share your reflections below.

Until next tide🌊