Savoring the Quiet Pause Before a Painting’s Release

The Small In-Between

There’s an in-between moment at the finish of every painting, just before the piece is made available, where I pause.

I don’t rush it.
I’ve learned not to.

This small in-between is where I spend quiet time with the work. I’ll lean it against a wall, walk past it throughout the day… waiting for it to speak in the way paintings often do.

Embers of Summer has been living with me in that in-between.

Listening to What a Painting Wants to Become

Some paintings arrive fully formed.

Others whisper.

This one whispered.

It asked for something soft enough to let the viewer feel the shift rather than see it spelled out.

The tones turned to those of early fall, and the lingering warmth of late afternoons—reminiscent of the hush that settles when summer steps back. I could feel its rhythm shifting as it neared completion, as though the piece itself knew it was standing at the edge of a season.

Sitting with it helped me see that it was indeed finished.

Where Inspiration Really Begins

Long before there was any paint, there were details—small ones people often don’t notice at first glance.

The rough edge of a leaf.
The shadowed pattern of a branch on the ground.
The shifting color of olive turning cooler as the day thins.
The textured surfaces inspired by old botanical pages that seem to hold history in the fibers.

These tiny clues from nature and the things that surround me are what I subconsciously gather as I move through the world. They become the vocabulary for my mixed media work—marks, layers, torn papers, brushed paint, all coaxed into something that feels familiar yet slightly dreamlike.

Embers of Summer grew out of those subtle observations.

A Palette That Followed a Feeling

Olive.
Warm gray.
Faded earth tones that feel like the last glow of a long season.

The palette didn’t come from a plan—it came from moments spent on late-summer days when the light stretches thin and the air carries its first hint of change. That atmosphere stayed with me. I recognized it again as I worked.

It’s interesting how colors trigger memory for us.

Letting Nature Lead

Nature holds much inspiration.

A cracked twig suggests a linear mark.
A cluster of leaves hints at how shapes want to gather.
A breeze through aspens becomes a rhythm, a pattern, a direction for movement within a piece.

Most of what ends up in my mixed media work starts as something simple—something collected in memory without my trying.

In Embers of Summer, those observations became the subtle storytelling beneath the surface.

Holding a Moment Before Letting It Go

Now that the piece is finished, I’m leaving behind that in-between space and sending it out into the world.

There’s something meaningful about this transition—the same way seasons shift.
This painting holds fading sparks of summer and the first cool inhale of fall.

Releasing it feels like releasing a moment I want to hold just a little longer.

Because art, like nature, teaches us that these small thresholds are worth noticing.

See “Embers of Summer” up close
A reflective blend of muted olive, warm grays, and early-fall calm.
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