There’s a moment in almost every painting I make when I freeze. The colors are singing, the textures are blooming, the whole piece feels alive ... and then I reach for the black paint. Suddenly my hand hesitates. My breath gets shallow. I hover over the canvas like I’m about to perform delicate surgery instead of adding a simple line or shadow.

Black feels final. It feels like a commitment. It’s the color that can anchor a painting or swallow it whole. And because of that, I get nervous every single time I use it.

I think a lot of artists feel this way but don’t always talk about it. We celebrate bold color, expressive strokes, and fearless experimentation but the truth is, even the most vibrant paintings need their darks. They need contrast, grounding, definition. They need the quiet weight that only black can bring.

But applying it? That’s where the nerves kick in.

When I’m adding black fine details such as eyeliner or eyelashes or a graphic mark that ties everything together - it feels like walking a tightrope. One wobble and the whole painting could tilt in the wrong direction. I’ve ruined pieces before. I’ve overworked areas. I’ve added a line that felt too heavy or too sharp or too… permanent.  Then off to the trash the canvas went!  Ughhh!

But here’s what I’m learning: black isn’t the enemy. Fear is.

Black is just another tool, another voice in the painting. It’s powerful, yes, but it’s also forgiving in its own way. It can be softened, layered, glazed over, or integrated into the texture. And sometimes the “mistake” becomes the most interesting part of the piece - the part with character, grit, and story.

So I’m practicing trust. Trusting my hand. Trusting my instincts. Trusting that even if the black goes down a little bolder than I planned, I can work with it. I can respond. I can let the painting evolve instead of trying to control every inch of it.

Painting with black is teaching me to be brave in small, steady ways. And maybe that’s why I keep reaching for it, even when my heart does that nervous little flutter.

Because every time I push through the fear, the painting - and the painter - grows a little stronger.  I hope this helps you in your journey when you pick up that black paint.  Go for it with confidence.

Content drafted in collaboration with Microsoft Copilot