When an Experiment Becomes the Painting
A simple balloon experiment led to one of the few paintings I’ve ever loved exactly as it
was from the very beginning.
24 July 2026
This painting was supposed to be nothing more than a way for me to test the effects of an exploding balloon filled with paint. I had no idea I would fall in love with the result exactly as it was.
I wanted to see what would happen if I filled a balloon with paint, stood on a chair, and popped it several meters above a blank canvas. I had a rough vision in my mind of a dramatic paint explosion, but I wasn’t entirely sure how to create it.
So I covered the floor, mixed Payne’s Gray with water and a little gloss medium, filled a balloon, climbed onto a chair, and popped it from about three meters above the canvas.
What I hadn’t fully considered was where all that paint was going to end up.
The answer was… everywhere!
The floor was protected. My face wasn’t.
Neither were my hands, the nearby walls, or just about anything else within range. My first priority wasn’t admiring the canvas. It was getting into the shower and making sure there wasn’t paint in my eyes.
Lesson learned.
Next time I’ll be much better prepared. A face shield is no longer optional, and I think a shower curtain surrounding the entire experiment might also be a good idea.
It wasn’t until the following morning, after everything had dried, that I really looked at the canvas for the first time.
The explosion had sent paint across the entire canvas. Large splashes, tiny droplets, fine mist, and long streaks all radiated outward from a single impact. It felt energetic, almost cosmic, and somehow perfectly balanced.
The word that kept coming to mind was Expanse. The paint had travelled across the canvas in every direction, leaving behind a sense of movement and space that felt much larger than the experiment that created it.
It was the first time I looked at a painting and didn’t want to change a single thing.
For anyone who has followed my painting journey, you’ll know how unusual that is. Most of my work goes through layer after layer of questioning, experimenting, scraping, repainting, and wondering what might happen if I try just one more thing.
This one simply asked me to stop.
I know some people might look at this and say it’s just a popped balloon full of paint. That there wasn’t much skill involved.
Maybe they’re right.
But, I also think there’s something meaningful about curiosity, experimentation, and being willing to try something completely unknown just to see what happens. The process always has something to teach us, if we’re willing to listen.
And every now and then…
…the experiment becomes the painting.
If nothing else, this piece makes me smile.
And at the end of the day, I think that’s enough.
Expanse 55 × 46 cm