Painting

Vertebrae of Light

Diagonal ridges of luminous green-yellow rake across a field of shifting violet, blue, and rose — like the skeletal imprint of something ancient pressed into atmosphere. The repeated comb-like striations march in parallel bands from corner to corner, creating a rhythm that feels both organic and mechanical, as if you're looking at the fossilized spine of some creature made entirely of light. Between these ridged forms, soft washes of pink and pewter breathe through the canvas weave. This piece is built entirely with Golden Interference acrylics, and the color shift here is dramatic. From one angle, the dominant tone reads as deep indigo-violet with acid-green teeth. Move to the side and the whole surface opens into lavender, ice blue, and pale rose — the ridges themselves shifting from green-gold to silver-white. The front-on shot versus the angled views tell two completely different stories. That's the interference pigments doing what they do — refracting light at the micro-particle level so the painting is never the same twice. The technique here is rapid and physical. Those serrated marks were laid down with a notched tool dragged through wet interference layers at speed — no hesitation, no correction. The underlying washes were built first in broad diagonal sweeps, and the comb work was driven through while everything was still moving. The edges are finished in a deep cadmium red that frames the piece with heat and gives the cool iridescent face something to push against. Painted at my homestead studio in Riverside, Washington, where the Tunk Valley sunlight coming through the windows is part of the process — it tells me when the interference layers are doing their job.