By the 1980s, Mason’s children were grown and she began teaching. She now also had a full-floor studio to call her own in Chelsea, New York. Her production flourished, with her works on canvas taking a more prominent place in her daily studio activity. As seen in both Caught Sunrise First, 1980 and Undo the Sea, 1985, Mason conveys the balance and restraint she had so deftly cultivated in over two decades working on paper and card stock. In a catalogue essay focused on the 1980s, Andrea Gyorody writes of Mason’s development:

“Pigment, in these works, is delicately layered; it is not soaked through the canvas, as in paintings by Helen Frankenthaler and Morris Louis, but the paint nevertheless appears to be so flat and fused to the support as to be pre-given—a marvel of technique that led Robert Berlind to write that some of Mason’ s paintings ‘seem for all the world to have occurred without a human agent.’”

The three 2008 paintings on display represent the culmination of over five decades of experimentation, confidence, patience. While in her early career, Mason was criticized for not painting in series and cultivating a personal style, she remained steadfastly independent; improvisation, the ability to remain curious, and restraint were paramount.

From Dr. Barbara Stehle’s essay “The light that lives within colors: The work of Emily Mason”:

“Mason preferred exploring over establishing a recognizable style. ‘Exploring, it’s like being in touch with some inside energy, some force, and you know it when it starts to happen.’ Her process was focused on these interactions and the compositions that would emerge from them, the mystical lessons of paint. 

“As she developed her practice, Mason increasingly cultivated an economy of gesture. Her abstractions were the result of few interventions. ‘The process is a series of moves, like a chess game,’ she explained. At times, Mason barely seemed to touch the canvas, her colors beamed and yet pigments were few. 

“At the end of a workday, Mason would let the painting rest. The oils would dry up a little and, in the morning, she would reengage with them. The painter was willing to follow the natural rhythm of a work. She remarked: ‘This is something that is not taught in school, but time is very important in the creative process.’ Each work had a flow; some were fast, some were slow. Mason spent a lifetime refining her intuitive relationship to time, when to wait and when to act. She would stay absorbed, until she finally had that feeling in her stomach: the work was done.”