(Studio Session 5)
When I sat down to compile this archival material, I realized something fascinating — I never recorded anything after Horizon was finished. And that absence says a lot.
I remember waking one morning and knowing, simply, it’s time. The lesson is complete. My lesson is complete. The painting and I had reached the end of our shared journey.
That day, I put on a different dress — not my usual white work dress — something in me wanted to mark the moment. It wasn’t about performance; it was about finality, a quiet ritual of closure.
There have been plenty of times I’ve said, “I’m finishing this piece,” when I wasn’t. You can’t force it. But this day was different. It wasn’t about trying or striving. It was about acceptance — an honest recognition that the work had arrived where it needed to be.
I came into the studio open, clear, and ready. No more dramatics, no more self-pity, no lofty ideals — just a grounded “enough.” I made a few small but significant changes, the kind that shift everything into place. What emerged was something powerful, bold, and balanced — a painting I truly love.
Horizon became my three-month pilgrimage. It didn’t end with fireworks, but with something more mature — a quiet equilibrium I hadn’t anticipated. It holds every lesson I needed for what comes next.
Looking back now, I feel deep gratitude for this piece — for the way she taught me to see further, and deeper.
