The intuition is more in harmony with nature than any theory the mind can figure out. —Myron Stout 

Making of a painting

I never have a plan on how a painting should be. I understand my work as a work in
progress. In this way, one decision/work brings me to the next one. And it is the same for all
my work: on canvas and on paper, ultramarine blue and gray. This keeps me from getting too
comfortable with what I'm doing. At the beginning, I must find my way. It can take several
weeks before I see how a painting is—how the light is affecting and operating within the space.

The painting must work in any light: morning, afternoon, evening—on a gray day, on a
bright day, in the light of a full moon, in artificial light. In order for the painting to work in all
light situations, the light needs to be built layer upon layer. The paint needs to be structured
so that the light is wholly incorporated into the picture.

All my work in the studio is done with north light. Large works are painted on the west wall,
primarily in the morning because I like the impact of the east light. I paint the small works on
a table that can be moved. Depending on the work, I move the table far away from the
window—or closer to it. But, as with the larger works, they are painted in the morning
light. Throughout the day, I shift the paintings around in my studio to see them in different
light conditions. I never look at them in artificial light.

The colors, and their specific combinations, are chosen for the light I 'm looking for in a
painting. Over the years, I have been able to better understand color and the way I use it.
Still, I am always searching to understand?but never to fully know.

I am often asked how I know when a painting is finished. There is a precise moment when the
combination of the colors is in balance with the light in the painting. At this point, it becomes
clear that the work is not a picture about color. In fact, color is only the catalyst that turns the
work into an experience.

The experience of a painting

I don't understand my paintings as objects. The edges are kept white so that they
involve the wall aesthetically.

There is no ideal distance to look at one of my paintings. The ideal distance must be figured
out individually; it is most realized when the space between the surface and the eye becomes
an active space.

It's difficult for the eye to determine the size of the painting, because it has no clear
focus point on the edges or on the surface. In essence, this makes it crucial for the participant
to remain active—to perceive the painting as an experience.

Rudolf  de Crignis, Spring 2005