first light, harbor
A study in raw sienna and Naples yellow — the way morning fog dilutes color until buildings dissolve into wet sky.
study no. 014 · 2026 · plein airA folio of translucent layers — lift each sheet of wet tracing paper and discover another painting underneath.
Salon-style hang — works of differing sizes clustered together, painted zones laid over bare paper. Drift through and let your eye land where it pleases.
A study in raw sienna and Naples yellow — the way morning fog dilutes color until buildings dissolve into wet sky.
study no. 014 · 2026 · plein airSalt blooms and granulation — the paper drinks until pigment settles in valleys and sings on peaks.
study no. 027 · 2026 · arches 300gsmPB60 indanthrene laid heavy at the lower edge, pulled upward with a clean brush — the void that holds the sketchbook together.
note · 2026 · indigo washBurnt umber laid wet-on-wet against Payne's grey. The pines stayed silhouetted while the sky bled past them.
study no. 031 · 2026 · ridgeSepia and Naples yellow — the warm interior light reflected off porcelain. The cup is loose, almost a guess, but it knows it's a cup.
study no. 044 · 2026 · interiorA rose madder bloom spilled where it wasn't expected. Left it. The painting is better for it.
note · 2026 · pr83Grey-violet wash dragged across rough paper. Tiles are merely a rhythm of dry-brush flicks where the pigment skipped.
study no. 052 · 2026 · rooftopThe wet edge between water and bank — where the paper let everything pool. Khaki earth and yellow ochre conversed.
study no. 058 · 2026 · riverTwo figs and a saucer of sepia ink. The whole study took eleven minutes — the paper decided when it was finished.
study no. 061 · 2026 · still lifeA single painting watched as it was assembled — bottom layer first, then the middle, then the top, like watching another painter at work in a studio you accidentally walked into.
The collage is built by hand. The torn edges aren't decorative; they're the inevitable result of pulling rag paper apart with damp fingers. You can hear the fibers separate.
When the layers settle into place, the painting reveals itself the way watercolor always does: not in any individual stroke, but in the conversation between strokes — the dry edges meeting wet edges, pigment pooling where the brush hesitated, granulation showing the texture of the paper beneath.
Nine pigments from the mixing tray. Hover and they bloom — pigment hitting wet paper, spreading until the wash decides where to stop.
Three sheets of wet tracing paper, offset, overlapping. Where they meet, the colors mix additively — read each panel alone, then read them together.
The first wash — laid generous, edge to edge, while the paper was still slick. PY42 settles into the texture and warms everything beneath it. Read this panel alone and you see warmth, slowness, a held breath.
A cool wash dragged across the still-damp sienna. The greys settle deepest where the paper hollows, granulating in valleys, drifting at the edges. Where the two layers meet, the warmth turns introspective.
The last gesture — a single drop of alizarin tint dropped into the wet wash, spreading on its own terms. The drop is a question. The painting answers in patches of rose held inside cooling grey.
a folio kept in the studio · written and painted over the long mornings of an indeterminate spring