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Hey—I’m Kenney, and this is Shadow Boxing, one of my recent oil paintings. I wanted to share a bit about how it came to be, why I made some choices I did, and what I hope it can mean to someone who lives with it.
I painted a rugged, mature male boxer mid-moment, gloves up, his muscles taut, with strong light carving into the flesh and casting a large shadow behind. What struck me in making this was how powerful contrast can be—not just light versus dark, but the tension between movement and stillness. I used bristle brushes on stretched canvas so you can see and feel texture: thick strokes on the arms, where muscle flexes; smoother but still expressive strokes on skin planes; impasto in places so light catches edges.
The lighting is dramatic— chiaroscuro, where the interplay of intense light and deep shadow gives form and weight. The shadow behind him looms, not just physically but emotionally—as if his own silhouette has its own presence, its own struggle. The gloves (black) and the skin (warm flesh tones, pink-peach, gold, subtle blues in the shadows) are emphasized: the gloves because they are tools, objects; the skin and torso because that’s vulnerability and strength.
If someone asked me what this looks like in art-history terms, I’d say it has echoes of Baroque drama—think strong modeling, Rembrandt-style careful attention to light shaping the face and body, the mood that comes from tenebrism. But there’s also something more modern in the brushwork: jagged, visible strokes, texture that doesn’t aim for hyper-smooth realism but for feeling. Maybe a cousin to Joaquin Sorolla or John Singer Sargent in how bodies are built with light, or even Philip Guston’s bold edge of brush in a strong gesture.
In my career this piece fits into my ongoing interest in the human figure in motion, and how light defines identity and struggle. I often explore athletic or physical subjects—not to idealize but to reveal character. The texture and the way I build layers of paint reflect that: pushes and pulls, almost palpable skin and muscle, a sense of lived time.
What I hope someone feels when they look at it: maybe admiration, maybe empathy. You might sense tension, discipline, vulnerability. The shadow suggests inner work, the battles you carry even when you’re upright. For someone who loves cinema or photography, there’s something filmic here—with the dramatic lighting, like scenes in classic films where light is part of the character.
For me personally, this comes from years of watching light fall across bodies, and trying to catch that instant when strength and fragility intersect.
Details
Materials: Oil paint on stretched canvas
Size: 36 × 36 × 1.5 inches
Year: 2025
Frame: Unframed, edges painted
FREE SHIPPING Shipping takes 3-4 Weeks
Hey—I’m Kenney, and this is Shadow Boxing, one of my recent oil paintings. I wanted to share a bit about how it came to be, why I made some choices I did, and what I hope it can mean to someone who lives with it.
I painted a rugged, mature male boxer mid-moment, gloves up, his muscles taut, with strong light carving into the flesh and casting a large shadow behind. What struck me in making this was how powerful contrast can be—not just light versus dark, but the tension between movement and stillness. I used bristle brushes on stretched canvas so you can see and feel texture: thick strokes on the arms, where muscle flexes; smoother but still expressive strokes on skin planes; impasto in places so light catches edges.
The lighting is dramatic— chiaroscuro, where the interplay of intense light and deep shadow gives form and weight. The shadow behind him looms, not just physically but emotionally—as if his own silhouette has its own presence, its own struggle. The gloves (black) and the skin (warm flesh tones, pink-peach, gold, subtle blues in the shadows) are emphasized: the gloves because they are tools, objects; the skin and torso because that’s vulnerability and strength.
If someone asked me what this looks like in art-history terms, I’d say it has echoes of Baroque drama—think strong modeling, Rembrandt-style careful attention to light shaping the face and body, the mood that comes from tenebrism. But there’s also something more modern in the brushwork: jagged, visible strokes, texture that doesn’t aim for hyper-smooth realism but for feeling. Maybe a cousin to Joaquin Sorolla or John Singer Sargent in how bodies are built with light, or even Philip Guston’s bold edge of brush in a strong gesture.
In my career this piece fits into my ongoing interest in the human figure in motion, and how light defines identity and struggle. I often explore athletic or physical subjects—not to idealize but to reveal character. The texture and the way I build layers of paint reflect that: pushes and pulls, almost palpable skin and muscle, a sense of lived time.
What I hope someone feels when they look at it: maybe admiration, maybe empathy. You might sense tension, discipline, vulnerability. The shadow suggests inner work, the battles you carry even when you’re upright. For someone who loves cinema or photography, there’s something filmic here—with the dramatic lighting, like scenes in classic films where light is part of the character.
For me personally, this comes from years of watching light fall across bodies, and trying to catch that instant when strength and fragility intersect.
Details
Materials: Oil paint on stretched canvas
Size: 36 × 36 × 1.5 inches
Year: 2025
Frame: Unframed, edges painted
