LOOKING SOUTH

// on this work //

Painted from the north end looking toward the sound. The sky was doing this — building itself in real time, throwing color the eye barely accepts. The marsh takes everything the sky gives and doubles it in reflection. The trees on the right are becoming abstract under this light. The painting stopped being a representation and became a direct response. Margaret Atwood wrote fiction on this island. This painting is fiction of a different kind — true and invented simultaneously, the way all honest landscape work is.