As I build each layer of this painting, I snap photos along the way—documenting both progress and setbacks. Sometimes a layer works beautifully; other times, it doesn’t. That’s all part of my process. In those moments of uncertainty, I try to return to the feeling that inspired the piece: a calm evening by the Mississippi River, the warm breeze brushing past, and the breathtaking glow of the setting sun. I remember the light—how it dimmed gradually, leaving the sun surrounded by a soft, golden halo.
When I began this painting, I started with vibrant colors. At first, they felt right. But when I compared it to the original photo, I realized the sky was too bright. That’s when I began adjusting—introducing deeper blues, burnt umber, and just a touch of white to soften it. I added dabs of lavender and peach to bring balance. Honestly, that’s when frustration crept in. I liked where the painting had been before adding the moodier tones, but the perfectionist in me wanted it to better reflect the photo.
This is usually the moment I know I should walk away, let it breathe for a few days. But instead, I kept pushing to finish. I could call it done, but something still feels off—something I can’t quite name.
Below is a diagram showing the different stages of the painting, with the lower right image showing where it currently stands.
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