How Light Actually Works in Classical Oil Painting
- Durhl Davis

- Dec 28, 2025
- 2 min read
Light is not decoration in my work.
It is permission.
I don’t use light to show everything. In classical oil painting I use it to decide what deserves to exist.
Most people think light in painting is about brightness or contrast, but that’s only the surface. Light is a hierarchy. It is a series of quiet decisions about what is allowed to speak and what must remain silent. If everything is illuminated, nothing is important.
In my paintings, light is restrained on purpose.
I begin by deciding where the light will stop. That decision matters more than where it begins. Once you allow light to wander freely, the painting loses gravity. The eye no longer knows where to rest. The object no longer feels anchored in the world.
I want the light to feel earned.
A highlight should arrive like a whisper, not a shout. In classical oil painting It should feel inevitable, not clever. When light touches a surface in my work, it is because that surface has something to say. Everything else is allowed to recede, to wait, to support.
This is why value matters more than color. Color can seduce, but value convinces. If the value structure is honest, the light will feel real even when the palette is quiet. Especially then.
I often think of light as weight rather than illumination. Too much light makes a painting float. Just enough gives it mass. Presence. A sense that the object occupies space and time, not just the canvas.
There is also restraint in where I refuse to place highlights. Silver does not sparkle everywhere. Citrus does not glow from every angle. Even reflective objects need humility. When everything shines, nothing shines.
The strongest light in a painting should never feel isolated. It must belong to the surrounding values, supported by half-tones and softened edges. Light without structure is theatrical. Light with structure feels inevitable.
I want the viewer to feel the light before they notice it.
To sense that something is illuminated, but not immediately know why. To slow down. To look longer. To discover that the painting is not asking for attention, but offering it.
That is how light works in my paintings.
Not as a spotlight, but as a quiet agreement between form, shadow, and restraint.
Paintings that live this way are not hurried. They reveal themselves slowly, over time, in changing light and repeated glances. That is the experience I’m always chasing in the studio.
From the Studio of Durhl Davis

I write these notes as a way of sharing how I see, not to instruct but to invite. For those who wish to follow the work more closely, finished paintings are first offered privately through the Collectors Circle.
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