This painting captures a moment from last night’s sunset, where the boundary between sky and water becomes almost indistinguishable. It is that quiet line—the horizon—where two vast elements meet and dissolve into one another. In this convergence, I see a kind of life force, a reminder that something so simple in appearance can carry an immense, almost indescribable power.

The ocean has always been a constant source of inspiration in my work. Having spent so much of my life near the water, its presence feels both familiar and essential. There is a personal connection rooted not only in place, but in identity as well—my zodiac sign, the crab, feels like a subtle reflection of that pull toward the sea. Blue, in all its variations, becomes more than just a color; it becomes a language I return to again and again.

Beneath the surface of the painting, layers of wax hold a quiet complexity. What may appear at first as a simple field of water reveals, upon closer look, a network of subtle color shifts—hints of warmth, coolness, and reflection embedded within. These layers create depth not through detail, but through accumulation, allowing the painting to feel alive beneath its surface.

Above, the sky carries the emotional weight of the moment. Whether it is read as a sunset or a sunrise, it holds that in-between quality—an ending and a beginning existing at once. These transitional times of day have always shaped the way I think, often pulling my thoughts toward reflection on the past while quietly suggesting what lies ahead.

Ultimately, the painting is about that intersection—of elements, of time, and of feeling. It is a meditation on simplicity and depth, on the quiet power of nature, and on the personal connections we carry within it. In the meeting of sky and water, there is both stillness and movement, offering a space to pause, reflect, and simply be present.