Why I Paint the Sea

Detail from the painting Meltemi

Why Do You Paint the Sea?

This is probably the question I get asked most often. People ask it in comments, in messages, or even when they meet me in person: “Why do you paint the sea?”

At first, I didn’t know how to answer. It felt like asking why I breathe. But over time, I realized that behind this question lies an opportunity to reflect, not only on my work, but on who I am and where I come from. So this post is my attempt to answer honestly and fully.

It Starts with a Simple Truth: I’ve Always Lived Near the Sea

Growing up in Greece, the sea isn’t just something you visit. It’s part of your everyday life. It’s always there, either on the horizon, or in the scent of the air, in the rhythm of the language. Like many Greeks, I have a strong, almost sacred connection to it. The sea is our boundary and our bridge. It holds memories, myths, history, and beauty.

Maybe it’s a coincidence that my name is Marina, but I’ve always found it a poetic one. In Greek, “marina” refers to a harbor, a place where the sea meets the land. That feels fitting. The sea has always felt like home, but also like a mystery just beyond reach.

The Years I Stopped Painting

Although art has always been a part of me, there was a period when I stopped painting entirely. For years after my graduation, I didn’t pick up a brush. But the desire to create never left me completely. It waited quietly, like the tide.

Eventually, I found my way back to the studio. At first, I didn’t know what to paint. I felt numb, even afraid, staring at the blank canvas. I questioned everything, whether I still had anything to say through art, whether anyone would care. But I made a decision: I would just start. No expectations. No pressure. Just paint.

Painting of Santorini

Returning to My Roots

The first image I turned to was a reference photo of Santorini, my mother’s birthplace. If you’ve ever been there, you know it’s more than just a beautiful island. It’s a dramatic collision of sea, sky, and volcanic cliffs. The landscape is limited in three colors, blue, white and black. It feels almost unreal, as if the landscape was designed by an artist.

Painting Santorini felt like returning to something ancient inside me. One painting led to another. The sea kept appearing in a way that seemed almost surreal, taking the place of the sky. I was realism in a naturally surrealistic way. That illusion was what inspired me.

A Creative Flow and a Surprise

During that period, I painted more than a dozen pieces, all rooted in the landscapes of the Aegean. I explored angles, shadows, waterlines, and moods. The sea was always there and blue was the main color in my paintings.

To my surprise, every single painting from that series sold, except for one. That final piece became part of my personal collection. I couldn’t let it go. It marked a quiet turning point in my artistic journey. That was the moment I understood something important: I wasn’t just painting landscapes. I was painting the sea.

And not just any sea. It was my sea. My memories. My feelings. My story.

Santorini Rooftops Painting

The Sea as my Central Theme

After that, I asked myself a simple question: What if I let the sea be the main subject of my work? Not the background, not a supporting element, but the soul of it?

That’s when my artistic direction became clear. The sea wasn’t just something I loved; it was something that allowed me to express things I couldn’t put into words.

There’s a strange freedom in painting the sea. It can take any color, any form. It can be flat or textured, still or wild. I don’t have to follow strict outlines or exact references. I can be abstract and realistic at the same time. That’s very liberating as an artist.

And more importantly, it mirrors my own emotions. The sea changes constantly, exactly the way we do. Some days, it’s calm and reflective. Other days, it’s angry or restless. It holds a thousand moods. I began to realize that the sea speaks for me, and through painting it, I speak for myself.

Emotion, Intuition, and the Purpose Behind Every Painting

Every painting I create now has a reason to exist. That reason might be emotional, maybe a way for me to process a personal experience. Other times, it’s technical, maybe I want to explore a new palette or a brushstroke technique. But I’ve learned that I need at least one clear reason before I start a painting. Without it, the work feels hollow. Pointless.

I don’t believe in painting just to fill a wall. I paint to express something real. Sometimes it’s joy, sometimes grief. Sometimes it’s just the need to breathe.

That’s what I love about the sea. It can carry all those meanings. I don’t have to explain it to anyone. But when someone feels it through my work, that’s when the magic happens.

Detail from Icarus

Between Realism and Abstraction

Stylistically, painting the sea gives me an interesting space to explore. I’m not limited to photorealism, but I’m not fully abstract either. I can play with perspective, with light, with impossible reflections. I’ve painted skies that become water, and seas that stretch into the clouds.

I love this duality. the way I can be precise and loose at the same time. The sea gives me permission to experiment. It forgives bold strokes and unexpected colors. It welcomes emotion over perfection.

When the Sea Becomes a Mirror

At some point, I began to realize that the sea was also a mirror. Not just visually, but mostly emotionally. When I painted her as wild and stormy, I was painting my inner chaos. When I painted her still and vast, I was expressing peace. Without even planning it, I was painting my own moods, my own journey.

And just like the sea, I am still changing. Still evolving. There’s no final destination, only tides, waves, and moments of clarity.

The Joy of Connection

There’s one moment that means more to me than any sale or compliment. It’s when someone looks at a painting and says, “I feel like I’m there.” Or “This reminds me of a place I loved.” Or even just, “I don’t know why, but I can feel this.” That’s when I know I’ve done my job as an artist.

Diving into a seascape is like diving into my soul, but when someone else comes along for the journey, that’s where the true reward is. When my inner ocean touches someone else’s, even just for a moment, I feel like the happiest artist in the world.

Detail from Afroessa

Final Thoughts

So, why do I paint the sea?

Because she raised me. Because she understands me. Because she’s never the same twice.

Because through her, I can be anyone and feel anything.

Because every time I face the canvas, she gives me permission to begin again.

Because she is infinite and so is creativity.

Thank you for reading.If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment below or share your own connection to the sea. And if you'd like to see some of my seascapes, you can explore them here.

Until next tide,