My Color Palette – Order, Intuition, and the Magic of Oil Paint

Every artist has their own rhythm, their own rituals—and for me, one of the most grounding and personal rituals is organizing my color palette. Before the brush ever touches the canvas, the story already begins here: on a well-used glass palette layered with memory, intuition, and intention.

My oil colors are arranged not just for practicality, but to reflect how I think and feel when I paint. Warm colors—those bold, glowing pigments that pulse with energy—live at the front of my palette. These are my go-to hues when I want to bring emotion forward: fiery reds, deep oranges, radiant ochres, and earthy siennas. They often make the first move in my compositions, shaping the mood, the heat, the presence.

In contrast, the cool colors rest quietly at the back. Blues, greens, violets—tones that carry depth, distance, and atmosphere. They are my space-makers, my shadows, my breath in a busy piece. Their positioning helps me transition naturally from foreground to background, from intensity to calm.

At the very center sits the heart of it all: whites and mediums. I work with several white tones—each one chosen for its unique behavior with light and texture. Titanium white for bold opacity, zinc white for subtle transparency, and sometimes even a warm mixing white when I need softness. My medium rests right beside them—a silent companion that helps with flow, layering, and extending the life of the paint.

This layout isn’t just about neatness—it’s about rhythm. My hands move almost instinctively from front to back, from warmth to coolness, from tone to light. It mirrors the way I experience emotion and structure in my paintings. It creates a visual and physical choreography, a dance I return to with every session.

Sometimes, of course, the palette gets messy. A burst of color ends up where it doesn’t belong, or I mix right in the middle when I’m lost in flow. But even then, the structure is there underneath—a quiet framework that holds space for freedom.

Having a palette that reflects how I think and feel doesn’t just make painting easier—it makes it more intimate. It becomes a map of decisions, a diary of choices. And over time, it tells its own story.

So when I stand before a new canvas, this palette is my starting point. It’s both familiar and full of surprises. Like a trusted friend, it keeps me anchored—and at the same time, it pushes me to explore new combinations, new moods, new layers.

Because in the end, painting isn’t just about color. It’s about how we organize our chaos, how we find beauty in structure, and how a simple row of pigments can open the door to something much bigger.