When Is a Painting Finished?
It’s the question I get asked more than any other: how do you know when it’s finished?
The truth is, there’s no single answer. Every artist approaches it differently. For some, it’s a feeling. For others, a technical assessment. Many of us rely on time and space to help us see clearly.
Personally, I know a painting is finished when it stops pulling at my attention. Once I think it’s done, I bring it into the house. I let it sit in everyday life. I live with it. If nothing nags, nothing feels unfinished or unsettled, and I still feel joy looking at it, then it’s done.
That might sound vague, but many artists say something similar. Marji Thompson speaks of living with the work for a few days. Kate Rhodes describes the sense of a “happy landing.” Nicholas Wilton looks for quiet satisfaction. And Rembrandt, bluntly: “A painting is finished when the artist says it is.”
There’s a balance to be found. Robert Genn noted that “80% finished is better than 2% overworked,” and I agree. Pushing too far can flatten what made the painting alive in the first place.
That’s when I let it go.
Ailsa Brims Art 
A beautiful and thought provoking reflection, Ailsa, thank you for sharing. I find myself pondering the idea that “finished” may not be a fixed state, but a momentary resonance, an alignment between the piece and the self we are in that moment. When the inner and outer find harmony, there’s a stillness, a soft sense of completion. Yet as we grow, that harmony may shift. What once felt whole might ask for more, or simply become a marker on the path we’ve since outgrown. Perhaps, then, finishing is not an ending, but a pause, an exhale in the rhythm of becoming… at least that’s what I find with my poetry/prose, which I frequently amend.