wherein I explain my visual expressions in words

Well, now: different for me, eh?

In all my years of making, selling and winning awards for my landscape and mixed media art, I rarely paint a still life. So, if Wine and Roses speaks to you, grab it in the online gallery. I’m not sure when you will see another still life out of my studio. ;-) Although … I am certain you can feel the joy I felt while painting this.

Wine and Roses began as a quiet experiment in light — a study in how glass, water and petals capture and refract the softest moments of a room. What started as a simple arrangement on my table grew into a little scene that feels like an invitation to slow down.

At first glance the composition is familiar: a cluster of roses in a transparent pitcher, a cut-glass decanter, a plate of dark grapes and a single apple on the edge of the table. But the choices are deliberate. The clear pitcher and decanter let me play with reflections and refractions; the water line, the curved handle and the beveled stopper become ways to catch the light and lead the eye. The muted, warm background gives everything a vintage hush, so the colors of the flowers — pinks, creams, orange and a cool lavender — read as small, bright conversations against a calm backdrop.

I was interested in contrasts: the soft, velvety petals against the rigid geometry of cut glass; the saturated, jewel-like grapes beside the delicate translucence of the roses; the organic, leaves against the table’s horizontal plane. Painting grapes allowed me to push color temperature and small pinpoint highlights — those tiny white dabs that make the fruit feel wet and alive. The roses, painted with softer edges and layered brushstrokes, carry a more contemplative rhythm. Together they create a balance between the lively and the restful.

The table’s reflection beneath the objects grounds the scene and gives the still life a quiet sense of presence, as if someone had just set these things down and stepped away for a moment.

Emotionally, Wine and Roses is about pause. It’s the hush after arranging flowers, the little ceremony of setting out fruit and a carafe, the domestic ritual that marks ordinary life as something worth noticing. There’s nostalgia here, but it’s not sentimental — it’s appreciative. It asks the viewer to linger over small luxuries: a well-formed rose, the way light fractures through a glass, a bowl of grapes that promises sweetness.

In a home setting this piece works as an accent that brings warmth without demanding attention. It suits a living room, a breakfast nook, or even a hallway where a soft, contemplative image can offer brief respite between the day’s activities. Framed simply, Wine and Roses complements vintage or contemporary decor alike because its palette and mood are restrained but rich.

If you find yourself drawn to the little details — the pearly edges of the petals, the crystalline highlights on the decanter, the deep, satisfying purple of the grapes — you’re seeing what I loved about painting it. I’d love to hear which element catches your eye first: is it the roses’ color, the glass’s clarity, or the grapes’ lushness? Share your thoughts — these small conversations are exactly what make still life feel alive.