Footbridge Over Davis Creek 48 x 36 inches oil/canvas
For decades, I squinted across the salt marshes from Towd Point to glimpse the wooden footbridges of Davis Creek in the distance. They were always just out of reach. But a few weeks ago, I met a very engaging couple at my art show. When I told them about my ongoing painting project, “36 Views of Towd Point,” they invited me to step out and see their stunning sunset view for myself.
“We won’t be there,” they said, “but go and check it out.”
I jumped up from the couch and rushed over to catch the sun going down. Stepping onto the creaky boards of their bridge was an extraordinary sensation. I was suspended between the soil cliff where their home stood and the stretch of sandy beach leading to the open bay. Standing directly above the still water, I felt suspended in space. I stepped to the other side slowly and carefully, testing to be sure the bridge would hold me.
On that footbridge crossing Davis Creek in North Sea, I felt a quiet kind of magic. Birds darted overhead, paying no attention to me. Fish rippled the surface while insects buzzed and shimmered in the golden light. All of nature is carrying on, unaware of me, the human intruder. The light here moves slowly, reflecting across the water and through the branches, transforming fleeting moments into something timeless. It’s one of those places I could paint for a lifetime and see something new every day.
This painting, nearly as tall as I am (48 x 36 inches, oil on canvas), captures that deep stillness as day turns to night. Working in my studio at this scale is a physical experience. I reach, stretch, and move as fast as I can to get all I experienced down on the canvas.
The vertical format and subtle layers of color carry a hint of Japanese influence, echoing my long-time admiration for that particular sense of balance and quiet beauty. You may remember from my previous post that I shared the three earlier stages of this piece with you. This is the final stage, complete, and I already feel the pull toward the next canvas.
Warmly,
Casey
