Sunlit Wings

Sunlit Wings emerged from a quiet morning in the studio, when the light cut through my windows in gold-edged bands. This 5 by 5 foot oil on canvas piece is part of my Organic Movement series, created using my signature thread painting technique to channel fluid energy and radiance into a static surface.

The process began with a rich violet oil background mixed with linseed oil to keep the paint open and pliable. Into this expanse, I dipped baker’s twine into luminous yellow oil paint, cut with linseed oil to create a flowing, viscous consistency. As I pulled the soaked twine across the wet violet surface, arcs and sweeping gestures emerged—marks that felt like wings, or falling light.

There is no precise control in this technique. Instead, it is a dance of guidance and surrender. The twine moves as it will, catching and dragging paint, revealing textures that feel almost feathered. As I stepped back, the composition felt like wings lifting in unison, catching sunlit air in an abstract, unnameable flight.

This painting draws inspiration from artists like Cy Twombly, who embraced gesture and the lyrical, and Lee Krasner, whose layered energy shaped Abstract Expressionism alongside her partner Pollock. Where Twombly scribbled the language of memory and Krasner layered force and grace, I use twine to translate motion into mark—an elemental choreography inscribed onto canvas.

Sunlit Wings also reflects my philosophical approach to art-making. In an era dominated by digital perfection and algorithmic composition, my thread painting practice is deliberately raw and organic. It reminds me of Agnes Martin’s belief that beauty is in the irregular, in the human hand that trembles with aliveness. Here, that aliveness is captured in each unpredictable swoop of yellow across violet, each flicker of line that suggests wing, beam, or path of light.

For collectors, Sunlit Wings is an invitation to pause, breathe, and feel the quiet exhilaration of flight. It evokes that first golden hour of dawn, when shadows soften and the world is remade in light. It is not an image of wings—it is wingedness itself, alive in paint.