Pastel Gorge
A5, A4 Fine Art Print with matt board.
A3 Fine Art Print rolled ( sent in tube )
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For a fortnight, the tapestry of this painting had woven itself into my dreams, beckoning me back to Exmouth for the second time. I stretched the canvas at a beach near the lighthouse. And then, as I turned that fateful corner to the west, destiny unfurled before me, unveiling the very scene I had cradled in my dreams. My van became both chariot and sanctuary, halting beside the roadside altar of inspiration. For six hours, I surrendered to the beckoning muse, each brushstroke a note in the symphony of my soul. The colours, less tethered to realism, danced with the dreamscape reality that had first ignited my imagination- a testament to the magic that lives at the intersection of dreams and art.
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A5, A4 Fine Art Print with matt board.
A3 Fine Art Print rolled ( sent in tube )
-
For a fortnight, the tapestry of this painting had woven itself into my dreams, beckoning me back to Exmouth for the second time. I stretched the canvas at a beach near the lighthouse. And then, as I turned that fateful corner to the west, destiny unfurled before me, unveiling the very scene I had cradled in my dreams. My van became both chariot and sanctuary, halting beside the roadside altar of inspiration. For six hours, I surrendered to the beckoning muse, each brushstroke a note in the symphony of my soul. The colours, less tethered to realism, danced with the dreamscape reality that had first ignited my imagination- a testament to the magic that lives at the intersection of dreams and art.
-
A5, A4 Fine Art Print with matt board.
A3 Fine Art Print rolled ( sent in tube )
-
For a fortnight, the tapestry of this painting had woven itself into my dreams, beckoning me back to Exmouth for the second time. I stretched the canvas at a beach near the lighthouse. And then, as I turned that fateful corner to the west, destiny unfurled before me, unveiling the very scene I had cradled in my dreams. My van became both chariot and sanctuary, halting beside the roadside altar of inspiration. For six hours, I surrendered to the beckoning muse, each brushstroke a note in the symphony of my soul. The colours, less tethered to realism, danced with the dreamscape reality that had first ignited my imagination- a testament to the magic that lives at the intersection of dreams and art.
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