Dying Light: Six Skies Made It

A little while ago I told you about seven sheets of paper on my studio wall, all chasing the same view from my garden here on the Beara Peninsula — that 180-degree stretch of sky I never get tired of watching change.

Well, the storm's passed, and six of them made it through.

They've found their name too: Dying Light. It felt right for what I was actually painting — not sunrise so much as that last hour of the day, when the light starts to give up its colour all at once, hedgerows going soft and dark against a sky that's still burning. Six versions of that same held breath, each one caught at a slightly different moment.

I still think of these as keyhole paintings. Small enough to hold in one hand, but each one is a little window through to somewhere bigger — a glimpse of a world just beyond the frame, rather than the whole view laid out for you. That's part of why I love working this size. There's no room to overwork it. You either catch the moment on paper or you don't, and half the paintings that didn't make it were the ones I couldn't leave alone.

Because they're unframed studies rather than finished statements, they're priced affordably at €35 each — a chance to bring home an early, honest piece of this direction before it grows into something larger. If you'd like one framed, just get in touch and I can talk you through it.

All six are up in the shop now, Dying Light Series #1 through #6, and I'd love for a few of them to find homes before I start pulling threads from this series into something bigger.

Alongside the minis, three larger works on paper have gone up too — "Beside the pole," "It's Changing," and "The high road." These are where some of those same threads have already started to grow: still studies at heart, but with a bit more room to breathe than the keyhole paintings allow. If the minis are the glimpse through the window, these are a step closer to it.

Both the minis and the works on paper sit under what I think of as my affordable art project — pieces that exist because a bigger painting needs to be tested first. They're unframed, they're priced accordingly, and every one of them is a genuine step on the way to something larger down the line. That's really the appeal of buying at this stage: you're not just getting an early, honest piece of the work, you're getting in before the ideas in it grow into full paintings.

More studies are already stacking up on the studio wall — I'll keep sharing them as they come together. If you'd like them straight to your inbox, you can join my studio list below.

Seven Skies, One View

Early Morning I

I've got seven pieces on paper on the go at the moment, all exploring different views of the sky at different times of day. I'm lucky enough to have a 180-degree view from my garden, so the inspiration is right there on my doorstep.

These are preparatory sketches for larger pieces — a chance to test an idea, or play with the tones of a sunrise or sunset, all that shifting colour at either end of the day. But each one is a small painting in its own right.

You don't get to the atmosphere without going through the storm first, and that's where I am right now: knife, brush, fingers, seven sheets of paper, and a lot of messy palettes as I try to get the colour and mood in my head to actually work on paper.

Because these are studies rather than finished statements, they're priced affordably — a chance to own an early piece of this direction before it becomes something bigger.

I'll be sharing more of these sketches as I go: which ones make it, which ones don't, and what starts to emerge as I work toward the sunrise/sunset series. If you'd like to follow along, you can join my studio list below.

Early Morning II

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