Cultivating Sensibility through Abstract Art
Abstract art is criminally underused in education, often dismissed because many people simply bounce off encounters with it. Why? The reasons are complex, but anecdotally, it seems that ‘getting’ a piece of abstract art requires emotional engagement—a kind of work that isn’t always central to arts education in the classroom.
Yet, when used effectively, abstract art has the power to cultivate essential life skills: critical thinking, openness to diverse perspectives, problem-solving, resilience, imagination, and intrinsic creativity.
For this reason, I urge educators to explore abstract art with their students—not with a fixed outcome in mind but as an opportunity for emotional exploration. Here are a few moments that have emerged since I began a daily practice of creating abstract work.
Finding Quiet in Colour
One evening, my seven-year-old son, E, joined me in painting. The room was quiet. He carefully chose his colors and we worked in silence. Then, this conversation unfolded:
E: “This is nice.”
Me: “Oh? How do you mean?”
E: “It’s… [long pause, keeps painting] It’s hard to say.”
Me: “Try. I’m listening.”
E: “It’s like my head feels quiet because the colors are quiet.”
Me: “They remind me of the ocean. Maybe you could paint some fish.”
E: “No. It’s the sky. It’s empty.”
It’s good for our minds to feel quiet sometimes. To empty out. This isn’t E’s normal state—his mind is usually buzzing with ideas. But these rare, precious moments of stillness always seem to emerge through art.
Embracing Creative Risk
Staring at a blank canvas, I often feel dread. What if I mess up? What if someone sees and realizes I’m not a “real” artist? What if they point and laugh? But abstract art teaches us to push past that fear.
Making abstract work means embracing the moment where things feel like a failure—then shrugging, painting over it, and pushing forward. It’s about moving back and forth between success and failure until balance is found.
The Art of Balance
In fact, balance is what I’ve learned most from abstract painting. Light against dark, warm against cool, smoothness against texture, saturation against desaturation—when these elements align, the work suddenly breathes. I’ve had a few paintings that felt like they were twitching, coming alive. Nothing fully formed yet. But there’s time.
And that’s the beauty of it—there’s always time to explore, to reflect, and to try again. That’s why I believe every classroom should make space for abstract art. Not as something to ‘get right,’ but as an experience—to feel, to think, and to be.
So, grab some paint. Let go of expectations. And see what emerges.
