February Ice

There’s a stretch in winter where the bay freezes solid, and the world goes quiet. You stand at the shoreline and everything is blue and white and still - except the sky. On some of those brutally cold days, the sunset still shows up, throwing streaks of orange across the ice like fire trapped under glass.

That’s what I was thinking about when I flowed February Ice. The base is all cold, deep cobalt and layered white, pulled into peaks like fractured ice sheets. But in the center I let the orange burn through, like the sun refusing to stay out of it. The white streaks rising around it felt like breath in cold air, or light reflecting off frost.

It’s a piece about contrast. Stillness and intensity. Cold that holds heat, just for a second.