An exploration of horizon line, shadow and light. I had fun doing this. It is not a very big picture and does not translate to well on a photo, especially a close up as shown below. But I think the light and dark shapes are strong and interesting and this should look well in a plain dark wooden frame.
Below is a painting that did not make the cut as a featured image, although I secretly like it. It was originally this painting, but I wanted to re-use the canvas so I painted over it with raw sienna and then a mush I had on my palette. Lo and behold this apocalyptic painting emerged – I added some darker areas, blended and wiped away a bit and added one highlight, and there it was. It reminds me of something Turner may have done (albeit after a few drinks).
The pointless search for the sweetest painting continuets, at times in ecstasy, other times like sawing thick wood underwater. Something that points – at what? Not some human-cultural dispute of the decade; but perhaps something like the golden feathered bird in the hand that emerges beyond the last thought.
The Tent Outside, the freezing desert night. This other night inside grows warm, kindling. Let the landscape be covered with thorny crust. We have a soft garden in here. The continents blasted, cities and little towns, everything become a scorched, blackened ball. The news we hear is full of grief for that future, but the real news inside here is there's no news at all Rumi (translated by Coleman Barks) This copy from Rumi Days
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