The forest doesn’t smolder—it glows. In Where the Trees Burn Gold, trunks rise like pillars through a curtain of flame-kissed air, lit from within by an unseen sun. Goldenrod, ochre, and ember tones flood the scene, not in destruction, but in transformation. This is not a forest on fire—this is a forest becoming light.
Each tree seems to pulse with heat and memory, rooted in wild grass and reaching toward something holy. There’s movement here, but no chaos. The fire is ancient, sacred—an alchemy of dusk, bark, and breath.
This painting is for those who know that beauty can blaze. That peace can be fierce. That sometimes, the world has to burn gold to be seen.
12”x 9” Watercolor on Paper
Original available for purchase.
The forest doesn’t smolder—it glows. In Where the Trees Burn Gold, trunks rise like pillars through a curtain of flame-kissed air, lit from within by an unseen sun. Goldenrod, ochre, and ember tones flood the scene, not in destruction, but in transformation. This is not a forest on fire—this is a forest becoming light.
Each tree seems to pulse with heat and memory, rooted in wild grass and reaching toward something holy. There’s movement here, but no chaos. The fire is ancient, sacred—an alchemy of dusk, bark, and breath.
This painting is for those who know that beauty can blaze. That peace can be fierce. That sometimes, the world has to burn gold to be seen.
12”x 9” Watercolor on Paper
Original available for purchase.
