Thursday, January 7th, 2016
Everything about this ink wash is understated, soft, and ghostly. The pale sky just as the sunset fades into the gloaming. The shadowy tree like a ghost against the ink-streaked clouds. The birds flitting past like memories, barely there in the distance.
The first hints of night haunt the top of the page, washing away the color as the evening threatens to fall, dropping its curtain over those last washes of pink and violet and gold still lurking in the soft clouds.
Above, you can see the ghostly little ink wash birds swooping through the pale, fading daylight. Below, the tree sits in a frame, ready to haunt its new home.