I love when an artist attempts the night and does it well, because the use of black in painting can be so dire and funerary. Here, the sable backdrop is sophisticated and sharp. Bravo! The obvious lack of middle ground in this painting I find quite intriguing. The artist purposefully blurs the distant image, one that would ordinarily be framed by the branches in the foreground. But we can’t see it. Instead he pans on soft focus to the intricate branches at the front edge of our vision. A gentle reminder that we often don’t see what we are looking at. Our personal filters obscuring observation.
The shimmering flowers are slightly abstracted. Fireflies breeze through the branches. The otherworldly feeling intensifies as your eye follows the maze of lines that intertwine and cross, here and there, over and under, in the random play of nature. Entrancing.
The magical nocturne of this moment captivates us. We listen to the night; its rustling and cricketing. We stop and focus on the diminutive, quiet moment, monumental for its breathless simplicity. We walk though the hours in a torrentially informed techno-cloud. Taylor draws us back to an elemental, even molecular level of nature. These scenes, small building blocks of tranquility. Flowing up and down the spines of the branches, nerve endings afire. In a night full of breath.