The Story behind the Artwork
One morning last year my brother and I got up at the crack of dawn. We brought a flask of coffee and the hot beverage felt like treasure in our cold hands and we smiled with glee.
Toby went for a surf and I sat on the bench and watched the early light. The morning was dark and I looked directly West. Even though I had already sat in the same spot on other days, it was a whole new scene.
The light was pink on the horizon, hiding behind a strip of lilac clouds. The water had a sandy green near the shore, probably where the sand was being churned in the wave.
I saw there were hints of purple in the bushes and watched surfers walk across the beach leaving footprints behind them. As the sun rises in the East, I see the new morning light hit the white water and I am in awe.
I play Hawaiian music on my speaker and Wesley sits down to have a yarn. He talks about his electric guitar and how much he loves the Hawaiian sound.
I have an old idea that painting is very much an introverted exercise, and I laugh at myself because every time I come to the beach to paint there are always folks wanting to talk and connect.