Wings of the sea

Some days, I come to the canvas carrying more energy than intention.

Wings of the Sea began that way…with a wave and an experiment that didn’t work. I set out to create a muted, minimalist painting of water. I used plaster and gauze to build the wave, but the materials felt too rigid, too heavy. What I was making looked solid, not fluid. It didn’t hold the movement or softness I associate with water.

So I pulled it apart.

I removed the gauze entirely, and what remained were fragments of plaster still holding the shape of a wave - broken, uneven, unfinished. Instead of correcting it, I decided to stay with it. I began painting instinctively, letting blues and greens settle into the surface. The plaster crests caught the light in unexpected ways, standing out, asking to be seen. White emerged naturally as the color for the highlights.

As the wave took form, its fierceness reminded me of resilience. The kind I recognize in women again and again. From that energy, the bird appeared as a sign of freedom. Unleashed motion. Something rising from force rather than escaping it.

That’s when the painting found its name: Wings of the Sea.