As I finished this painting, one of my kids said "I really wish it would snow." I found her comment odd because, up until then, this painting, in my mind, was of a sun-bleached grain elevator. It was not of a snow-covered field, but of a an arid, parched land. Not a chill in the air, but a white-hot stillness that surrendered little relief, even in the shade.
I call this one 'Grain Elevator 8.' No particular reason, except that I've done so many grain elevators, I'm losing track. It is the latest in my experimentation with suggested architecture, where edges become part of the background and foreground.
I'd like to do an entire collection in this style. Hope you like it.
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