Imagine finding her there, tucked among a little gathering of red-and-white mushrooms.
A barn owl sits quietly, waiting for nightfall. The warm browns of her feathers stand against the almost storybook colors of the mushrooms, making the whole scene feel like a secret you weren't meant to see. She could take flight at any moment, and once she does, this little moment will be gone.
Waiting was created during the same period as The Lookout, when I was experimenting with oil on birch wood panels and letting the natural wood become part of the painting.
But this piece became about something more—the space between now and what comes next.
Every moment is like a breath. Some we rush through. Some we hold onto. Some we wait for.
So which moment will you take?
Which one will you wait for?
Maybe claiming your wild sometimes means simply being present enough to notice the moment you're already in.
Imagine finding her there, tucked among a little gathering of red-and-white mushrooms.
A barn owl sits quietly, waiting for nightfall. The warm browns of her feathers stand against the almost storybook colors of the mushrooms, making the whole scene feel like a secret you weren't meant to see. She could take flight at any moment, and once she does, this little moment will be gone.
Waiting was created during the same period as The Lookout, when I was experimenting with oil on birch wood panels and letting the natural wood become part of the painting.
But this piece became about something more—the space between now and what comes next.
Every moment is like a breath. Some we rush through. Some we hold onto. Some we wait for.
So which moment will you take?
Which one will you wait for?
Maybe claiming your wild sometimes means simply being present enough to notice the moment you're already in.
