Goodbye?

Can you smell low-tide through a painting?

This One Leaves the Sketchbook

I like this one. Enough to let it go.

That feels significant, because I don’t say it lightly. I’m usually very good at finding reasons to keep work close, small doubts, imagined improvements, the quiet belief that I might like it less tomorrow. This one doesn’t invite that kind of second-guessing.

It feels settled. The buildings sit comfortably in their place, solid without being heavy. The wall does its job. The ladder leads the eye exactly where it should, without needing to announce itself. Nothing feels rushed, and nothing feels overworked. It looks like it knew what it wanted to be early on, and I managed not to get in the way.

There are still imperfections, of course. There always are. But they’re the kind that belong to the piece rather than interrupt it. They don’t pull focus or whisper accusations when I look back at it. They just exist, quietly, like texture rather than error.

What I notice most is how confident the restraint feels. The colour stays controlled. The ink supports instead of correcting. I didn’t feel the urge to add more just to justify the space. That alone feels like progress worth acknowledging.

So this one is for sale. Not as a declaration of mastery or arrival, but as a small marker along the way. A moment where things aligned, intention, patience, materials, timing, and produced something I’m happy to stand behind without explanation.

Letting a piece leave feels a bit like trusting it to speak without me hovering nearby, pointing out what I’d change next time. This one doesn’t need that. It can manage on its own.

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