"It's to paint directly on the canvas without any funny business, as it were, and I use almost pure turpentine to start with, adding oil as I go along until the medium becomes pure oil. I use as little oil as I can possibly help, and that's my method"
About this Quote
No mysticism, no “secret sauce,” no romance of the tortured genius: Hopper frames painting as a matter of discipline and restraint. The almost comically blunt “without any funny business” is doing cultural work. It swats away the art-world hustle of recipes, varnishes, and talky theories, insisting that the real drama belongs on the canvas, not in the studio lore. Even the phrase “as it were” has a dry, self-correcting modesty, like he’s allergic to sounding precious.
Technically, his medium progresses from near-pure turpentine to pure oil, a controlled climb from lean to fat. But the subtext is psychological. Starting with turpentine is like forcing the picture to declare itself quickly: thin, fast, unforgiving. Oil arrives later, only when the structure has earned it. That maps cleanly onto Hopper’s reputation for patience and clarity - images that feel inevitable because they were built under constraints. “As little oil as I can possibly help” reads like an ethic as much as a procedure: minimal indulgence, maximal control, no softening the hard edges of seeing.
Context matters: Hopper comes up in a period when American painting is wrestling between European tradition, modernist experimentation, and the pressure to perform originality. His method sounds almost anti-modernist in its refusal of gimmick, yet it’s modern in its austerity. He’s not chasing effects; he’s policing them. The result is the Hopper paradox: paintings that look simple but feel loaded, because every atmospheric mood is the product of someone actively resisting “funny business.”
Technically, his medium progresses from near-pure turpentine to pure oil, a controlled climb from lean to fat. But the subtext is psychological. Starting with turpentine is like forcing the picture to declare itself quickly: thin, fast, unforgiving. Oil arrives later, only when the structure has earned it. That maps cleanly onto Hopper’s reputation for patience and clarity - images that feel inevitable because they were built under constraints. “As little oil as I can possibly help” reads like an ethic as much as a procedure: minimal indulgence, maximal control, no softening the hard edges of seeing.
Context matters: Hopper comes up in a period when American painting is wrestling between European tradition, modernist experimentation, and the pressure to perform originality. His method sounds almost anti-modernist in its refusal of gimmick, yet it’s modern in its austerity. He’s not chasing effects; he’s policing them. The result is the Hopper paradox: paintings that look simple but feel loaded, because every atmospheric mood is the product of someone actively resisting “funny business.”
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
|---|
More Quotes by Edward
Add to List
