Threshold

Threshold began without a specific destination. I was simply exploring color—allowing the greens, aquas, blues, and warm earth tones to interact and seeing where they would take me.

As the painting developed, the warmer brown forms began to feel like land or rock emerging from the water. There was something reassuring about their solidity amid all that movement. They became a place to land—a place to stand for a while. Around them, the textures began suggesting water: a splash or wave at the lower left, light sparkling across the surface, and movement continuing beyond.

 

Then a distant horizon appeared. I hadn't planned it, but suddenly the painting had a destination. The solid ground no longer felt like an ending. It felt like a threshold.

 

Looking back, I recognize something of myself in that landscape. I had reached a place where I felt more grounded, but I also knew my journey wasn't finished. There was still somewhere I wanted to go. The destination was becoming clearer, even if the path toward it wasn't.

 

I hope the viewer feels that possibility too—to stand for a moment on solid ground, look toward the distant horizon, and imagine a way across. We don't always know exactly how we'll reach what lies ahead. Sometimes it is enough to recognize that there is more waiting for us, and to begin looking for the path that will take us there.

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