A vast sky, a distant landscape, and almost nothing else.

Just stillness. I wanted to paint that particular quality of winter light -thin, pale, ancient. The kind of light that has been falling on these mountains since long before us, and will continue long after. The solstice sky as it has always been.

Look closely and you'll find small points of warm light scattered across the surface; barely there, unexpected.

They simply appeared, like the way hope appears in dark moments. The fresco-crackled surface feels older than the landscape it carries -as if this sky has been preserved for centuries, waiting to be seen again.