This Painting is on a 24" x 24" Linen Panel. Titled: "The Morning Harvest"
This is inspired by my very own chickens and my love for Wattle Fencing. I don't have a Wattle Fence but if I had the time, I would certainly undertake making one. I still have quiet a way to go, progress will speed up after I finish her chest, hands, hair and hands! The rest will flow.
There comes a point in every painting where it doesn't quite look finished—but it finally begins to feel alive. This piece has reached that stage.
The central figure has slowly emerged through layers of warm and cool tones, careful observation, and countless small adjustments. Her face, hands, and the light filtering beneath her sun hat became the emotional anchor for the painting before anything else. I wanted viewers to pause with her—to feel the quiet concentration of an ordinary moment transformed by light.
The surrounding elements are still finding their place. The hens are only partially developed, existing as loose shapes. I actually enjoy this stage because it reveals the structure beneath the finished illusion. Every completed painting begins as a collection of decisions, corrections, and unanswered questions.
The woven wattle fence stretches across the background, providing rhythm and texture without competing with the figure. Behind it, the trees remain soft and atmospheric, allowing the eye to settle naturally on the subject. It's a balancing act between detail and suggestion—knowing where to speak clearly and where to whisper.
One of the things I love most about painting is how light tells the story. The wide-brimmed hat creates a pocket of shade across her face while reflecting warm sunlight underneath its rim. Those subtle shifts in temperature—from golden highlights to cool shadows—give the portrait its sense of depth and quiet intimacy.
As I continue working, the chickens will gain form, the foreground will become more cohesive, and the landscape will receive its final refinements. But I also want to preserve some of the freshness that's visible at this stage. Loose brushwork has an honesty that can disappear if every inch is overworked.
Sharing a painting before it's finished is a little like inviting someone into the studio while the conversation is still unfolding. You see the questions alongside the answers, the revisions alongside the successes.
That's part of the beauty of the process.
The finished painting will tell one story. The work in progress tells another—and both are worth sharing.
Thank you for sharing in my Art Progress!
