Abstract Art Oil Pastel: Learning to Let Go

This blog post is about my abstract oil pastel series I called “Learning to Let Go”, which I made earlier this summer.

There’s something liberating about holding a broken piece of oil pastel in your hand and realising you don’t need to throw it away. In fact, it might just create something more interesting than what you’d planned.

This simple moment of acceptance became the foundation of my latest abstract oil pastel collection of three paintings. In a way, it reminded me more about life than I’d expected.

The Weight of Perfection

For years, I lived by the rules. My landscapes have to capture every shadow perfectly. Each brushstroke in my portraits needed to serve a purpose.

When I moved into photography, I became obsessed with freezing the perfect moment in time, adjusting settings endlessly, waiting for that precise second when the light hit just right.

It’s a bit like how we approach most things in life, isn’t it?

We plan our careers meticulously, follow recipes to the letter and feel anxious when things don’t go according to plan.

I remember spending an entire afternoon adjusting my camera settings for a single shot, much like a friend who spent months researching the “perfect” holiday destination, only to feel disappointed when the reality didn’t match his Pinterest board expectations.

The problem wasn’t the planning itself, it was becoming so attached to control that I’d forgotten why I’d started creating in the first place.

When Perfection Stops Being Enough

Picasso once said, “Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist.” I’d certainly learned the rules. I could paint a recognisable tree, capture a stunning sunset and make people say “wow, that looks just like a photograph.” But something was missing.

I started feeling restless, like wearing a suit that’s technically the right size but doesn’t quite fit. The satisfaction of technical achievement was fading, replaced by a gnawing sense that was playing it safe.

Perhaps you’ve felt this too – that moment when the job you’ve worked hard to perfect starts to feel like a beautifully decorated cage.

That’s when I discovered abstract art, particularly non-representational expressionist form. Suddenly, I wasn’t trying to paint something, I was trying to paint feelings, energy, the unseen, the intangible. It was terrifying and exhilarating, like learning to dance when you’ve spent years marching in formation.

Abstract Art Oil Pastel Series Freedom

This recent series of abstract art oil pastel paintings began on a Tuesday morning when I walked into my studio with absolutely no idea what I wanted to create except ‘freedom’.

Usually, I’d have sketches, colour samples or at least a vague concept. That day, I had nothing but three blank paper cards and a box of oil pastels.

Without a plan but with a strong intention, I wanted to paint free of any thoughts whatsoever. I picked up a pastel, not because it was the “right” colour or part of a planned composition, but simply because it felt good in my hand. I made a mark. Then another. No plan, no rules, no destination in my mind. Just letting my hand go, movement, colour and instinct.

I didn’t have a clear plan, but I did have a clear intention. And that was to “let go”.

What My Abstract Art Oil Pastel Series Revealed?

Working on archival, acid-free paper card measuring 60 x 80 cm (roughly 24 x 31 inches), I created three abstract art oil pastel paintings that continue my decades-long exploration into unrestricted expression. Each one taught me something different about the relationship between constraint and freedom when you simply let go.

The Blue Journey: Finding Focus in Restriction

The first painting emerged from a restricted palette of blue tones with just whispers of purple. I worked entirely from top to bottom in one continuous vertical motion, using each shade of blue pastel almost non-stop.

There was something meditative about this singular direction, like flowing a river downstream without questioning where it leads.

My palette knife became an extension of my breath, scratching vertical lines up and down continuously. No thought process, no plan to control the outcome. I felt generous, white spaces scattered throughout, breathing room in a sea of blue.

These weren’t mistakes to be covered up, but essential pauses in the visual conversation, like comfortable silences between old friends.

The Yellow Constraint: When Boundaries Create Energy

The second abstract art oil pastel piece also restricts in a different direction. Using a palette dominated by various tones of yellow, with touches of blue and pink, I worked both vertically and horizontally across the entire surface.

Unlike the blue painting’s breathing spaces, this one demanded complete coverage, every inch of the 60 x 80 cm surface engaged.

Again, only my trusty palette knife touched the work, scratching straight lines that created a grid of constrained tiny squares and rectangles of varying sizes. It’s fascinating how limitation can create such energy.

The Chaos Canvas: Complete Liberation

The third painting threw all restrictions out the window. Purple, pink, orange, blue, grey and black danced across the surface in a riot of colour and movement. Lines and scribbles in every conceivable direction – it was visual jazz, improvised and unrestrained.

Yet even in this apparent chaos, white spaces emerged naturally, creating pockets of calm within the storm. The composition invites your eye to wander freely, never settling in one place for too long.

At the end, I took my palette knife and scratched through the pastels in every direction, breaking whatever rules I might have unconsciously been following.

This process reminded me of conversations with my mother, who never followed recipes but somehow made the most incredible meals. When I’d ask for measurements, she’d say, “A bit of this, a handful of that, until it feels right.” I used this infuriatingly. Now I understand the wisdom in trusting your instincts over rigid instructions.

Each painting became a dialogue between intention and accident, control and surrender. The palette knife, my only tool throughout the entire series, became like a trusted friend, creating textures and marks I never could have planned.

The Life Lesson Hidden in Pastel Dust

Creating this series taught me something profound about letting go that extends far beyond art. We spend so much energy trying to control outcomes – in our careers, relationships, even our daily routines. But some of life’s most beautiful moments happen in the spaces between our plans.

Think about your favourite memories. I bet many of them weren’t meticulously planned. The best conversations often happen when we stop trying to be clever and start being genuine.

The most meaningful relationships develop when we stop trying to present a perfect version of ourselves and start showing up authentically.

My abstract art oil pastel series became a metaphor for this kind of authentic living. Each mark I made without overthinking it was like a small act of trust, trust in the process, trust in my intuition, trust that not everything needs to be figured out in advance.

Why This Abstract Oil Pastel Journey Matters to You

You don’t need to be an artist to understand the power of letting go. Maybe you’re the person who researches restaurants for weeks before making a booking or someone who writes and rewrites emails until they’re “perfect”. Perhaps you’ve been putting off starting something new because you don’t have all the answers yet.

All my abstract art, including this series, keeps reminding me that expertise isn’t about having perfect control. It’s about building enough skill and confidence to trust yourself when you venture into the unknown. The rules I spent years learning weren’t wasted, they became the foundation that allowed me to leap safely into uncertainty.

The Freedom on the Other Side

These three oil pastel paintings don’t look like anything recognisable and that’s precisely the point. They’re pure expression – colour, texture, movement and feeling without the constraint of having to be something specific. They represent the joy of creating without attachment to outcome.

But more than that and like all my abstract paintings, they keep telling me how to approach everything else in my life. To make decisions more quickly. To worry less about whether I’m doing things “right” and to focus more on being true to myself.

Creating abstract art always reminds me that the most beautiful things often come from the willingness to make a mark without knowing exactly where it will lead. Sometimes, the best way forward is to simply begin and trust that the path will reveal itself as you walk it.

Your Turn to Let Go

What rules have you mastered that might be ready for some creative breaking?

What would happen if you trusted your instincts more and your need for certainty a little less?

You don’t need oil pastels or canvases to practice letting go. You just need the willingness to make your next move without having the entire journey mapped out in advance.

Further Reading

Process vs. Final Result: What Matters More in Art?

Why Do We Need Art?