JULY 2025 - FORM AND REFLECTION
Collected moments from dusk and from painting
Winter has brought a certain clarity — the light has been unexpectedly vivid. Evenings have tipped toward lilac and soft gold, with the trees becoming striking sharp silhouettes, almost black, against the sky. I’ve been collecting these moments in photos and in the studio.
I’ve been drawn (quite literally) back to drawing. There’s a pull toward mark-making that’s more immediate and direct. Some of the charcoal I’ve been using was made from branches near the studio — a kind of grounding, both in material and in place.
In recent work I’ve been noticing how these winter tones — pale pinks, warm whites, deep umbers — are slipping into the surfaces. Not always planned. They arrive on their own, especially in the quieter phases of the day.
A few details above from what’s currently on the walls — small fragments, not yet whole. There’s ease in letting things unfold slowly, and in paying attention to how winter, too, has its own kind of bloom.
“An artist must be a seer — not a camera. The winter light reveals things not visible in the blaze of summer.”
— Charles Burchfield
I’ve been drawn (quite literally) back to drawing. There’s a pull toward mark-making that’s more immediate and direct. Some of the charcoal I’ve been using was made from branches near the studio — a kind of grounding, both in material and in place.
In recent work I’ve been noticing how these winter tones — pale pinks, warm whites, deep umbers — are slipping into the surfaces. Not always planned. They arrive on their own, especially in the quieter phases of the day.
A few details above from what’s currently on the walls — small fragments, not yet whole. There’s ease in letting things unfold slowly, and in paying attention to how winter, too, has its own kind of bloom.
“An artist must be a seer — not a camera. The winter light reveals things not visible in the blaze of summer.”
— Charles Burchfield
Earlier glimpses into the surroundings that shape my work
