Snowstorm. Oil on panel, 4x12
It's still cold and snowy out there, more like Maine than like Connecticut. I love the way the shadows collect, blue and fragile, beneath the fir trees, inside footsteps, in the treads the cars' tires make on our unplowed drive.
Yesterday, the setting sun added gold into the mix. It was so fleeting, I didn't have a chance to paint it - but I saw it, and recall it, still.
This morning, for an instant, smoky wisps of thin clouds turned a brilliant red-orange against a light blue sky, as the sun pulled over the horizon and shone through the trees. The snow in the field turned pink. And the dogs cavorted and ran and barked while I watched, with my mouth open.
Why not buy a painting today?
Yesterday, the setting sun added gold into the mix. It was so fleeting, I didn't have a chance to paint it - but I saw it, and recall it, still.
This morning, for an instant, smoky wisps of thin clouds turned a brilliant red-orange against a light blue sky, as the sun pulled over the horizon and shone through the trees. The snow in the field turned pink. And the dogs cavorted and ran and barked while I watched, with my mouth open.
Why not buy a painting today?
2 comments:
Nice format on this one. Boy Carrie I can't believe how good you are getting. You totally captured the freeze on it.
I still remember us trying to figure it out in Gene's class and I would have to bring little Addison and try not to get the turp on her.
Hey, Michelle, thanks for the kudos. I like the tall, skinny format, too. Like peeking through a doorway! You are my best commenter.
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