I painted many foxes in my twenties, during a time when painting felt less like art and more like survival. I rarely showed them to anyone. I kept art in the safe category of “hobby”, something private, something not to be taken too seriously. This painting feels different.
I’m turning forty this year, and for the first time in my life I feel I’m allowing myself to treat both my work and myself seriously. I struggled with this piece, repainted it more than once, almost gave up on it, and then something finally clicked.
It began as a struggle between control and gesture. When you return to painting after years of keeping it quiet, the hands remember before the mind does. Layer after layer of deep midnight Prussian blue, raw sienna, and warm oxide reds slowly built the cliffs.
It may be just a fox leaping between two cliffs under a moonlit sky, but to me it marks a shift. A small proof that honesty matters more than perfection, and that it is not too late to begin claiming your own work as real.
Above the Canyon
Acrylic on canvas, 90 × 70 cm, 2026.
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