In the quiet dead of night, the cold enveloping her bare toes and seeping into her pajama bottoms... her fingers work a silent magic with a palette knife, poised above a white ocean of virgin canvas... a slight hesitation before she descends.

Sky blue, indigo, purple, ultramarine... big squirts of pure acrylic pigment on a new shiny silver tray, a few drops of cold water, and a deep breath. A quick scoop into a tub of thick white paste, and a slow smear that grows from pale grey to a bursting nebulae of colours, swirling and mingling of their own accord. It takes two hours to completely cover that vast ocean of white. The palette knife slows, then eventually stops. She stands, takes two steps back and stares.

How does colour make everything come alive? This was completely blank, white, lifeless just yesterday. There are drips on the floor, splotches of smeared blue toeprints marking a little messy trail around the easel. She laughs, thinking they look rather cute.

5 minutes pass, she sits again, and the process repeats. Another hot chocolate, a pot of green tea... and lots more drips on the floor. She looks out the bay windows and catches a glimpse of the starry sky outside, and the sliver of a crescent moon, suspended among the twinkling lights. She smiles again, and reaches for the tubes of silver and gold. Another dip into the texturing paste, and the little swirls begin... tiny dots of pure light, shimmering under the tungsten glow of the living room lightbulb. Pisces and Sagittarius dancing among the stars... it was how she always remembered it to be. She wonders if he ever thinks of Cassiopeia like she does. Little lashings at a time, she uses her fingertips... tracing the dried contours of texture on canvas, like the surface of the moon... pitted, jagged, rough, completely spontaneous. The highlights start to appear, the universe comes to life.

She takes a deep breath and stops... and looks at her rapidly numbing left hand. It's freezing cold. She moves her fingers gingerly, spreads them apart, holds them in a fist, opens them again, turns her hand around. And she stops. Right there, that angle... she sees a ball of light hovering gently above her cupped palm, streams of stars and light escaping from her fingertips like a trail of fairies. She loves moments like this, when her imagination takes over. She reaches for the palette knife again, and creates her luna, cradled gently within her fingertips, all the while thinking of the love she carried in her heart for so long... precious and guarded, yet completely vulnerable... just like this.

Then one day, it's complete. She can't add anything else to it. And she flies amongst the stars every time she looks at it, reminding her of all the laughter, the tears, the conversations in the night... the dreams they shared. And she feels blessed that she once found a kindred spirit.

This is for you, dear sod. I hope you are well, and finding happiness in the little wisps of light amongst the darkness we are all enveloped in.

Love, Twerp

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Commissioned by a kindred spirit.

Acrylic and texturing medium on canvas, 70cm x 100cm.

Please click on the image for a larger view.

***SOLD***