PERHAPS these three new paintings will briefly take the chill out of the air on this cold December morning, temporarily lift the darkness as we approach the winter solstice, or combat the pre-Christmas funk for those who suffer from it.
Wherever you find yourself during this challenging season, I hope they lift your spirits.
* * *
THE DISTANCE is not great — about a mile-and-a-half through fields and woods from doorstep to river — and one could argue that it does not change much from day to day.
Yet the details of the landscape are fluid: a dull twig briefly enflamed by morning sun, the frozen rock shifting shape among the shadows.
A downy woodpecker that was not here yesterday drums on a fallen log, a dozen mallards rise startled from the safety of the frigid river, their beating wings foaming the water, their squawking drowning out the tinkling of a steady stream of slowly forming ice. If it stays this cold, these jagged, reflecting crystals will soon be silenced, laced together.
The paths are infinite, and my senses are alert to subtle variances of weather, hour, and season. The metronome of my footsteps contrasts sharply with my wandering state of mind.
THIS SERIES has only gradually surfaced, although these three new entries, like the first three, emerged nearly in unison, despite their different styles. It was never intended as a series, and perhaps it is done.
Of course, I have thought that before. I continue to be drawn by this landscape, and curious about its lingering effects.