While at a residency in rural New York, I was struck by the intensity of golden light that came from behind the line of trees on the horizon. As an abstract painter, I embrace the murkiness of looking and making, and I wanted to find a non-literal way to depict this light coming from the distant landscape. I prepared a gritty, sandpaper-like ground of black mica paint over layers of recycled old drawings. Underneath, orange-gold, red and blue tones from the older works suggested an atmosphere and I allowed my eyes to travel with charcoal pencils through and around these overlapping branches. Fleeting and stark, white bark gleamed and silhouettes of naked trees danced in the sunsets. I challenged myself to carefully look at the tree line and the shapes of the branches. These delicate edges became a springboard for my hand to improvise. Through observation I was able to re-inform my visual language while getting lost in the nuanced and sensory experience of the luminous mica that both represented and embodied light.