Why the First Swipe Matters: How Oil Painting Helps Us Settle, Simplify, and Start Again
by Cheryl Willcox — Oil painter, teacher, and lover of big, beautiful brushstrokes
When I teach, I always begin with the simplest of gestures: a smear of burnt sienna, rubbed loosely across the canvas. It’s an old-fashioned way of beginning an oil painting — a “pick-out” underpainting — but lately I’ve started noticing something deeper about this moment.
It isn’t just a technique.
It’s a shift.
Last week in class, one of my students — a woman who has faced enormous changes this year — stood in front of her canvas looking weighed down by the pressure to “get it right.” There was so much life swirling around her that even choosing a colour felt like a decision too big.
And then she wiped back the paint.
Just one long, sweeping movement of her hand across the board — clearing a patch of light in the midst of burnt sienna. And something softened. She took a breath. Her shoulders dropped. The painting instantly became simpler, calmer, more spacious. And she smiled.
That’s when it hit me:
This physical involvement with the first layer of an oil painting is doing more than preparing the canvas.
It’s preparing us.
The body knows before the mind catches up
Oil paint has a beautiful property: it dries slowly. It stays open. It forgives. That means we can push and pull it, wipe it back, reshape it, try again. This is why I love oils — they allow us to begin with movement rather than precision.
When you rub in that first colour and start wiping out the lights, you’re not just “mapping values.” You’re engaging the whole body: shoulder, arm, hand, breath.
It’s a somatic warm-up — the same way an athlete might sway, shift, or bounce before performing.
It’s the same cross-lateral movement Andre Agassi used when he flicked his racquet left and right before receiving a serve. These repetitive motions help regulate the nervous system and settle the mind.
In painting, that means the inner critic quietens.
The pressure eases.
The body takes the lead.
Wiping back brings clarity — on the canvas and in life
There is something incredibly liberating about simplifying the image in front of you. When you wipe away the chaos of mid-tones and reveal a clear area of light, the whole structure falls into place. You see what matters again.
It’s no surprise my student felt lighter.
She was literally clearing space.
The action mirrors what many of us long for when life feels busy, overwhelming, or emotionally heavy. The canvas becomes a metaphor:
Wipe back what no longer serves.
Reveal what is essential.
Let the painting breathe — and let yourself breathe too.
Oil painting gives us permission to start again, not by erasing, but by softening. By reshaping. By making room.
Your first marks matter more than you think
Every painting begins with a gesture — a big curve, a wiped-out ellipse, a swish of rag or fingertip. These are not “inconsequential” moves. They set the tone for everything that follows.
Big gestures pull us into flow.
Repetitive motions calm the nervous system.
Swooping curves wake up the creative brain.
The technique is simple, but the effect is profound:
You feel ready. Settled. Connected. Open.
