This work began with the horizon — that razor-thin line where the night swallows the sun. I wanted the last ember of daylight to feel fragile, almost disappearing, yet still powerful enough to set the edge of the world on fire.
The snow holds everything in silence. It stretches wide and endless, not heavy but weightless, like a veil of blue dissolving into the dusk. I didn’t want the snow to feel cold — more like an open space for stillness, for pause.
The houses are far away, scattered like whispers on the land. Their windows burn with small orange lights, quiet but alive, like secret hearths holding warmth against the vast dark. For me, that contrast — the immensity of silence and the intimacy of light — is the heart of this painting.
acrylic paint
1 Artist Reviews
£273.65
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This work began with the horizon — that razor-thin line where the night swallows the sun. I wanted the last ember of daylight to feel fragile, almost disappearing, yet still powerful enough to set the edge of the world on fire.
The snow holds everything in silence. It stretches wide and endless, not heavy but weightless, like a veil of blue dissolving into the dusk. I didn’t want the snow to feel cold — more like an open space for stillness, for pause.
The houses are far away, scattered like whispers on the land. Their windows burn with small orange lights, quiet but alive, like secret hearths holding warmth against the vast dark. For me, that contrast — the immensity of silence and the intimacy of light — is the heart of this painting.
acrylic paint
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