Fall Currents

Nothing in this painting depicts anything, but everything in it moves. The blues run cold to colder — Prussian pulling down through indigo, a few passages of gray-green that behave like the last warmth leaving a body of water. I built it in glazes, letting each layer dry enough to hold its edge and then dragging the next one across it, so the seams stay visible. What accumulates is drift: bands that lean the same direction without agreeing on speed, and a handful of places where the paint pooled and the current stalled. I call it *Fall Currents* because autumn is less a color to me than a change in motion — water turning over, air stacking into layers, everything moving faster and lower than it did in August. Blue carries that better than any of the season's obvious colors. The eye wants to find a horizon in a field like this, and I've deliberately withheld one; the work resolves as depth rather than distance. What holds it together is the tension between the layers, not any single mark on top.