This painting is rooted in the memory of Hiwassee Lake in North Carolina—a place where the red clay shorelines bleed into deep, still waters, and the surrounding forests hold a weighty, viridian hush. Working with cold wax and oil, I sought to capture the sensory tension of that landscape: the burnished heat of the soil, the heavy green silence of the trees, and the way light fractures and lingers across the water’s surface.

Layers of pigment and texture reflect the layered feeling I have paddling around that shoreline—where time seems to stretch and hold. The fiery, rust-colored horizon in the piece evokes the clay banks glowing at dusk, while the cooler greens and shadowy depths nod to the forest's constant presence, steady and watching.

This work is not just a visual memory—it’s an emotional one. It’s about the magnetism of wild places, the quiet power of earth tones, and the way land can live in us long after we’ve stepped away.