Sundown

2231070 Sundown 30 x 24

 On a quiet back country road, late last fall, just as the sun was setting, I drove past a stand of pines; their boughs laden with fresh snow. I pulled over and got out to take a few minutes to breath in the fresh air and experience the light show effect of the last stages of sundown with the orange sky creating a backdrop to the visual drama. I could feel the interaction of the orange and blue complimentary colours, pulsating from the cast shadows.

Within minutes the light was gone, like a final curtain, and I shivered as the temperature dropped. The fleeting image of the warming sun remained in my mind, like some forgotten adventure: could it be the time when, as a teenager, I walked home alone in the dark after pick-up hockey at an outdoor rink, or years later, stopping on the last run down the ski hill at Mont Tremblant, in awe of the sundown? 

When I returned to my studio, I chose a 24x30 canvas and placed it in a portrait attitude on my easel. I squeezed out acrylic paint: phthalo and ultramarine blue, cadmium orange,  yellow and white. Then, with a 2 inch brush and sweeping strokes, I roughly painted the colours that were registered in my mind’s eye, like some story from the past  enfolding.

In the following weeks I continued to follow my instincts, modifying colours and minimizing detail, all the while purposefully taking time away from the canvas in order to reassess the progress. At some point, when I ventured back into my studio and re-examined my painting, my mind said “that’s it. You can stop now.”

While no painting is ever perfect to my mind, there comes a time when it feels that my story has unfolded and it's time to let others draw their own impressions.

When was the last time we paused to breath in the fresh air and savour the wonder of our natural world?

​Charlie
December 2023