Light has healed my life, and its subtle revelations have been my recent focus at the prelude of every waking day. My painting Prelude was collected in careful layers of memory, gathered while looking at the freshly hued edge of day emerging in front of me on the horizon as day broke quietly over the chilling ocean tide. These incredibly hard, volatile world shifts have called me to respond with a certain intentional softness. Refusing to be callous, and insisting on feeling, the sensual shifts in sunlight over sea call me to respond in paint, to offer viewers a sanctuary to reflect in during these arduous times. Ocean light transforms from muted visual whispers at the cusp of day; as it moves toward day over Maine waters, it becomes nearly operatic: stirring me differently every single morning.
Ten years ago, in a traumatic car accident, I witnessed a profound sunrise which altered the path of my life. I have been witnessing each consecutive sunrise over the ocean since (365 days a year for ten years now). My brushstrokes unite with the shifting sunlight, emotive atmosphere, and waters that move me in all weather. I merge paint and presence: gathering the tactile, fleeting experience onsite, then working in my studio from feeling and memory. A sunrise is impossible to capture, so instead I seek light and atmosphere’s essential essence and share my works to echo the timeless, and to help to lift the light.
“Light is the most important person in the picture.”
—Claude Monet