An artist sits atop a hill overlooking the seaside towns below, the tiny lights of homes and shops struggling to make their presence known through the fog rolling over the dark mountains. It's a cold morning, the light just starting to peak it's head over the mountain range. He sketches what he sees with a bit of artistic flare here and there. His bag is full of doodles, plans, ideas for the future. The waters are calm. Shops are starting to open, fisherman make their way down to the docks, neighbors greet one another in this silent solemn city, hidden away from the world.

I've been really inspired by a lot of ambient music lately when it comes to paintings, music in general honestly. This idea of liminality, loneliness, and isolation has been really strong in my need to create work. I looked at this piece after I finished it and started to wonder, "are the homes those lights belong to even inhabited, or were they left like that, why haven't they gone out yet?" And I guess in a sense there's a sort of preening for hope behind it's somber demeanor.
The fox is my fursona, Leonidas.