"Abalone", still life, pastel, (currently unframed)

For about twenty years, this abalone shell has been moving around with me—a quiet witness to the changing tides of my life. I don't even remember where it came from, I think it was a gift. I used to think everyone in California needs to have an abalone shell. From the moment I picked it up, I was captivated by its shifting colors—the way blues melted into greens, the faint blush of pinks and reds hiding in the crevices.

Over the years, it remained a treasured keepsake, moving from one area of my home to another, sometimes holding interesting objects. Catching sunlight on lazy afternoons, the shiny ripples reminded me of the ocean's timeless beauty. It whispered of salt air and rolling waves, of moments spent listening to the rhythmic lull of the sea.

I was looking for a subject for a still life painting, and as I set up this shell on a table the light hit coming through the window hit the side of the shell in an interesting way. I realized this shell had been part of my life for so long that I wanted to capture it in a painting. I took my pastels and carefully recreated the shimmer of its surface, the soft shifts in color, and the light bouncing off its curves. This painting holds the essence of something that has meant a lot to me over the years. Now, I hope it finds a new home with someone who sees the same magic I did all those years ago.