Why Oil Is Still the King of Paint (and How to Master It)

Everyone tells you to start with acrylics because they're forgiving and dry fast. I say that's exactly the wrong reason. You'll learn to paint faster with oils, because their slow drying time (one to three weeks or more, per EBSCO) forces you to think, plan, and build layers like the masters did. I've painted with everything from gouache to egg tempera, and I keep coming back to oil. It's the medium that rewards patience and punishes shortcuts, and that's why it's still the best teacher.

Who Is This For?

This is for the painter who's tired of fighting fast-drying acrylics, who wants to blend like a pro, and who isn't afraid of a little mess. If you're a beginner, this will save you years of frustration. If you're a convert from watercolor or gouache, this will help you translate your skills. I'm not here to convince you that oil is the only paint worth using—I'm here to show you how to use it so well that you'll wonder why you ever doubted it.

1. Understand What Oil Paint Really Is

Oil paint isn't just pigment and oil. It's a chemical reaction waiting to happen. When you spread it on your canvas, it doesn't dry by evaporation—it absorbs oxygen and cross-links into a solid, durable film (EPFL). That's why it takes so long, and why you can rework it for days. But this also means you have to follow the golden rule: fat over lean, thick over thin, slow-drying over fast-drying (Winsor & Newton).

Here's the practical part: start with a lean underpainting—thin paint with more solvent, less oil. Then build up to fatter layers with more oil and more pigment. If you paint a thick, oily layer first and then put a thin, lean layer on top, the top dries faster and contracts, causing cracks. I've seen it happen to students who ignored this rule. The result? A painting that looks like it's been through an earthquake.

My advice: keep your underpainting thin and fast-drying (use a bit of solvent), and save your thickest, oiliest paint for the final highlights. That's how you get the luminous depth that oils are famous for, without the cracks.

2. Master the Techniques: Glazing and Impasto

Oil's slow drying time makes two techniques possible that are nearly impossible in acrylics: glazing and impasto. Glazing is painting thin, transparent layers over a dry layer, so light reflects back and gives a glow (Wikipedia). This is how Leonardo got the Mona Lisa's face to look so soft—he built up nearly transparent layers with sfumato, leaving no visible brushstrokes (BBC). You can do the same: paint a base, let it dry, then mix a small amount of pigment with a lot of medium and apply it in thin coats. It takes patience, but the result is a depth that no opaque paint can match.

On the other end of the spectrum is impasto—paint applied so thickly that your brush or palette knife marks stay visible (Tate). Van Gogh used this to great effect in The Starry Night, with his vigorous, thick strokes. The trick is to use a stiff brush or palette knife, and don't overwork it. Once you've laid down that thick paint, leave it alone. I like to use impasto for highlights—a dab of pure titanium white, straight from the tube, can make a sparkle that no glazing can achieve.

But here's the warning: impasto takes forever to dry. A thick layer can take months to fully cure. If you varnish too soon, you'll trap solvent and ruin the painting. So, if you're working on a deadline, keep your impasto thin or stick to glazing. What can go wrong? I once had a student who impasto'd a whole painting and then tried to frame it a week later. The paint smeared and cracked, and he had to start over. Don't be that person.

3. Choose the Right Pigments for Your Palette

Not all oil paints are created equal. Some pigments are more expensive, more transparent, or more toxic than others. You don't need every color in the store—you need a few good ones and an understanding of what they can do.

For whites, you have two main choices: lead white and titanium white. Lead white was the standard for centuries and has a beautiful, warm quality, but it's toxic and was banned in the US in 1978 (MFA Boston). Titanium white, first produced commercially in 1916, is non-toxic, opaque, and highly lightfast (WebExhibits). I use titanium white almost exclusively. It's brighter, safer, and mixes well.

For blues, you could spring for ultramarine, which in the Renaissance was so precious it was worth more than gold (National Gallery). But you don't need to sell a kidney for it—synthetic ultramarine was invented in 1828 and is chemically identical (Wikipedia). I keep ultramarine and a tube of cobalt blue on my palette. Cobalt blue is totally stable in oil and is great for skies (WebExhibits).

For reds and yellows, cadmium pigments are my go-to. They're bright and permanent, but they can't be mixed with copper-based pigments (WebExhibits). If you're a beginner, stick to a warm and cool of each primary: cadmium yellow, cadmium red, ultramarine blue, and titanium white. That's enough to mix almost any color.

4. Don't Forget the Support and Ground

Your canvas and gesso matter more than you think. Wood was the standard support until the 16th century, when Venice's humidity made fabric more practical (UDel Kress). Today, you'll mostly use linen or cotton canvas. Linen is stronger and has a beautiful tooth, but it's expensive. Cotton is cheaper and fine for practice, but it can sag if not stretched properly.

Before you paint, you need to prime the canvas with gesso. Traditional gesso is made from gypsum and glue, but modern acrylic gesso is easier and more flexible (Getty). I use acrylic gesso, but I apply two coats, sanding lightly between them, to get a smooth surface. If you're doing a detailed painting, you'll thank me.

And if you want to go old-school, try a grisaille underpainting—painting in shades of gray first (Britannica). This helps you work out the values before you add color, and it's a technique used by the Flemish masters. I do this for portraits, and it makes the final glazes sing.

What I'd Actually Do

If you're ready to switch to oil, here's my concrete recommendation: buy a small set of ultramarine blue, cadmium yellow, cadmium red, and titanium white from a reputable brand (I like Winsor & Newton). Get a pack of pre-stretched cotton canvases, a bottle of linseed oil, and a jar of odorless mineral spirits. Skip the fancy brushes—for oil, a few hog bristle flats will do.

Then, paint a small study in grisaille first, using only white and black (mix your own black with ultramarine and burnt sienna). Once it's dry, glaze a few colors over it. This will teach you more than any tutorial. Remember, oil is about patience. Let each layer dry completely before you paint over it. And don't be afraid of the mess—it's part of the process.

Sources

• EBSCO / Study Rocket (Painting) - https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/history/painting
• Drying oil (EPFL GraphSearch) - https://graphsearch.epfl.ch/en/concept/752713
• Oil painting rules (Winsor & Newton) - https://eu.winsornewton.com/en-row/blogs/guides/three-oil-painting-rules
• Glaze (Wikipedia) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glaze_(painting_technique)
• Impasto (Tate Art Terms) - https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/i/impasto
• Mona Lisa sfumato (BBC News) - https://www.bbc.com/news/science+environment-10647510
• Lead white (Cameo, MFA Boston) - https://cameo.mfa.org/wiki/Lead_white
• Titanium white (WebExhibits) - https://www.webexhibits.org/pigments/indiv/history/tiwhite.html
• Ultramarine (National Gallery, London) - https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/podcast/colour-stories-blue
• Ultramarine (Wikipedia) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultramarine
• Cadmium yellow/red (WebExhibits) - https://www.webexhibits.org/pigments/indiv/history/cdyellowred.html
• Fabric supports (UDel Kress) - https://artcons.artsci.udel.edu/kress/historical-materials-techniques/entry/7124/
• Gesso (Getty Conservation Institute) - https://www.getty.edu/publications/conserving-canvas/glossary/
• Grisaille (Britannica) - https://www.britannica.com/art/grisaille