The ceremony was over. My daughter was married.
She and her husband were off with the photographer, moving through the park, down toward the river, finding their private moments. The rest of us stayed close, just immediate family, talking quietly, still warm from what we'd just witnessed.
I wandered.
Not away from it. Into it. The park opened up and I just started walking and looking, the way you do when something big has happened and you need somewhere to put it.
The sky had shifted. That dramatic striped sunset was gone. What was left was softer. Lavender and grey overhead, the rocks still holding their warmth underneath. The mountains weren't silhouetted against a burning sky anymore. They were just there. Present. Solid. Glowing from within.
I painted that.
Original oil on panel, painted and mounted inside an Altoids tin. About 2.5 × 3.5 inches. Signed on the back. Ships carefully packed.
One of a kind. When it sells, it's gone.
The ceremony was over. My daughter was married.
She and her husband were off with the photographer, moving through the park, down toward the river, finding their private moments. The rest of us stayed close, just immediate family, talking quietly, still warm from what we'd just witnessed.
I wandered.
Not away from it. Into it. The park opened up and I just started walking and looking, the way you do when something big has happened and you need somewhere to put it.
The sky had shifted. That dramatic striped sunset was gone. What was left was softer. Lavender and grey overhead, the rocks still holding their warmth underneath. The mountains weren't silhouetted against a burning sky anymore. They were just there. Present. Solid. Glowing from within.
I painted that.
Original oil on panel, painted and mounted inside an Altoids tin. About 2.5 × 3.5 inches. Signed on the back. Ships carefully packed.
One of a kind. When it sells, it's gone.
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