October arrived, a month bathed in the autumnal glory of crisp air, hinting at the serene winter ahead. We ventured north for the weekend, seeking out the aurora borealis, a phenomenon I dream of encountering. We landed at the Polebridge Mercantile, void of tourists this time of year. Mountain dogs, filthy and tired of chasing off newcomers, ran the place, greeting you with a hardy bark. We stayed up throughout the night, waiting for the sky to do its magic. It was cozy in the little cabin and when morning made its mark, we left with phantom images of green streaked mirages in the cosmos.

Driving down the North Fork, The Eternal Sky glistened, casting its pale indigo light. Clouds hugged the shimmering mountain range. The memory of death remained in the burnt hillsides and beetle-infested pines. But the resiliency of nature had won the landscape over through years of surrendering to cycles of death and rebirth.

Since this moment, this piece has taken over two years to curate. During the in-between, I was multiple states away, immersed in a different ecosystem. But this painting was a siren, calling to me over water and stone. When I returned in spring, it was the first painting I dedicated myself to.

I usually only cry about art when it’s going terribly, but this time they were tears of pure joy.