WORKONPAPER
THE SKY FORGOT IT WAS WATER
ACRYLIC 12 X 12”
Ship Side at Night
Acrylic on Archival Paper 12 x 12”
RED WITH APOLOGY
This one came like a confession. Red stacked on red like thoughts I tried to soften but could not. There is warmth in it and also something like a burned edge. I think of anger turning slowly into forgiveness and how to color remembers before we do. It feels like speaking truth under the tongue.
Acrylic on Archival Paper 12 x 12”
LIGHT LEAKING THROUGH FACTORY WINDOW
I think of this one as light caught in a grid of time. Yellow pushing through dark like morning through an old window. The blue arrives like small sudden hope as if something bright is about to happen. It feels industrial and tender at once like a factory dreaming of summer fields. All that structure and then a spark.
Acrylic on Archival Paper 12 x 12”
A STORM LEARNING HOW TO BREATHE
I painted this like a storm thinking out loud. Blackmoves like a cloud and stone while yellow flashes through like a warning or a spark. Teal drifts under it all like water remembering the sky. There is motion in every layer as if painting is shifting even after it dries. It feels like a landscape and lightning and the moment before something breaks open into new air.
Acrylic on Archival Paper
Sometimes the sky mistakes itself for an ocean and begins to swim. The blue moves like tidewater across a field of orange sunlight, each brushstroke a ripple between what is seen and what is remembered. Maybe it’s evening. Maybe it’s dawn. Maybe it’s just color trying to remember where it came from.
Sometimes the sky forgets it’s not water.
12 x 12” Acrylic on Archival Paper
The teal moved first like tide then shadow came and broke the surface and suddenly it was night inside the water. I followed the color into deep places without naming anything. It feels like memory and ocean with the quiet pulse of waiting for something to rise.
Acrylic on Archival Paper
12 x 12”
14 x 17” Acrylic on Archival Paper
I painted this like a storm thinking out loud. Blackmoves like a cloud and stone while yellow flashes through like a warning or a spark. Teal drifts under it all like water remembering the sky. There is motion in every layer as if painting is shifting even after it dries. It feels like a landscape and lightning and the moment before something breaks open into new air.
A STORM LEARNING HOW to breath
I remember feeling like blue was louder than words the day I painted this. It rushed across the surface like wind across open water. Black cut through like a thought you cannot quiet. There is a rhythm in it like waves arguing with the shore and the white break feels like breath finally taken. To me it is the sound of blue breaking then mending itself again.
BLUE SPEAKING IN WAVES
12 x 12” Acrylic on Archivel Paper