Why I Start Painting Fall Before Summer Is Over
Every year, somewhere in the middle of summer, I start thinking about fall.
Not because I’m ready to rush the season along, but because there is something about autumn light that starts calling to me before the weather actually changes.
The palette shifts first.
I begin reaching for ochres, warm golds, soft creams, lavender-grays, earthy browns and those pale trunks that seem to glow against darker woodland passages. The brighter colors of summer start giving way to something quieter and more layered.
That shift usually leads me back to the Eastern Sierra.
I’ve painted the aspens there for years, and I’m always struck by how brief the season really is. The trees change quickly. The light feels different. The landscape can move from green to gold in what seems like no time at all.
That fleeting quality is part of what I love about painting it.
I’m not trying to reproduce a photograph exactly. I’m trying to hold onto the feeling of being there—the still water, the pale trunks, the warm color reflected back into the landscape, the sense that everything is changing but nothing needs to hurry.
My latest painting, Golden Stillness, came from that familiar pull.
It’s a 36 × 36 inch original palette-knife painting filled with warm golds, soft reflections and thick impasto through the trees and foliage. There are touches of lavender and cream throughout, which keep the painting quiet rather than overly bright.
That balance is what I’m after more and more lately.
Not just color for the sake of color, but atmosphere.
The kind of painting that can hold a room without shouting across it.
So even while summer is technically still here, fall has already started in the studio.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
