When it comes to art, every brushstroke, smudge, and mark tells a story — but not always the one you expect.

Aimee Kruger, artist, art curator and gallery owner. Image supplied
“Reading” a painting isn’t about spotting a technique; it’s about noticing the whispers: the mood, the rhythm, the artist’s quiet obsessions. The question isn’t what is this a painting of? but what is this painting making me feel?
Too often I hear people in the gallery say, “I love that piece, but I don’t know why.” And often, it’s said with a hint of embarrassment.
Firstly — never be embarrassed to like an artwork, a song, a movie, or a series. Never let anyone make you feel small for enjoying something that brings you joy. Art isn’t a test you have to pass; it’s an experience you get to feel.
And secondly — it’s completely okay not to know why you love something. That mystery is part of the magic. Artists are, in many ways, alchemists. We take ordinary things — paint, charcoal, canvas — and somehow make them stir something in you that feels familiar but can’t quite be explained.
Maybe it’s the way a single brushstroke moves across the canvas with confidence. Maybe it’s a colour that hums louder than the others, or a shape that feels like déjà vu.
Sometimes, a painting reminds you of a memory or emotion you didn’t realise was still tucked away somewhere.
Art doesn’t always want to be understood — it wants to be felt. And when a piece makes you stop and stare, even without knowing why, it’s already done its job beautifully.