Why Abstract Art Isn’t Random

People sometimes look at abstract art and say, “So… is this just random?” I get the question. If you’re used to paintings that clearly show a face or a place, abstract work can feel like it’s breaking the rules on purpose. But here’s the thing: I don’t start with a plan, but I’m not guessing either. My work begins with color and a fast first layer, then it turns into a series of decisions. What stays, what gets pushed

back, what gets balanced, and what gets tossed because it doesn’t hold together.

Even when I’m working intuitively, there’s a big difference between “no plan” and “no decisions.” My work usually starts with color. I squeeze fluid acrylics straight onto paper and roll them out in different directions. That first layer is fast and physical, and it can create surprises, but everything after that is intentional. I’m watching what’s happening, responding to it, and adjusting in real time. It’s not random, it’s a conversation.

A strong abstract piece is built on composition. Balance, contrast, rhythm, movement, and where your eye travels across the surface matter just as much as they do in photography or design. That’s also why I throw a lot of pieces away. If the composition doesn’t feel cohesive, it doesn’t make the cut. If abstract art were random, everything would be acceptable. In reality, I’m editing constantly.

Digital art by Marc Garrison

Happy accidents are part of the process, but they aren’t the finished piece. The accident is raw material. The work comes from shaping it into something that feels resolved, sometimes with linework, sometimes with stronger contrast, sometimes by stopping at the right moment. Overworking usually makes it worse, so knowing when to stop is a skill in itself.

If you’re not sure how to “read” abstract art, try looking for a few simple things instead of asking what it’s supposed to be. Where does your eye go first? Where does it travel next? What holds the piece together, a repeated shape, a color relationship, a rhythm of marks? And most importantly, how does it make you feel? Color and shape affect us more than we realize. That’s why someone can walk past ten paintings and then stop at one.

For me, abstract art is powerful because it gives you room to bring your own experience to it. It doesn’t tell you what to think. It invites you to connect. And when a piece is working, you can feel it. It has movement and energy, but it still feels balanced, like everything landed where it should.

Visions of Elvis