Held Between Light: Why I’m Drawn to the Space Between

There’s a moment in the woods that doesn’t last long.

It’s not quite daylight, and it’s not yet dusk. The air feels alert. Sounds soften. Everything seems to pause, not frozen, not empty, just aware. If you’re rushing, you miss it entirely.

That space is where Held Between Light began.

This collection isn’t about wildlife as subject matter. It’s about presence. About the subtle shift that happens when you slow down enough to notice what’s already there. The animals in these pieces are not symbols to decode or characters in a story. They are presences held in the moment before movement resumes.

Each piece in this collection is built in three layers. A solid base that grounds the work. A softly painted middle layer that suggests atmosphere rather than detail. And a final layer shaped by fire, hand-burned slowly, intentionally, without rushing the outcome.

Layering matters to me. It creates distance and depth, but it also demands restraint. Too much detail and the moment collapses. Too little, and it loses its weight. This work lives in that balance.

Held Between Light reflects how I experience the natural world, not as a place of spectacle, but as a place of attention. Time on the trail has taught me that stillness isn’t empty. It’s active. Observant. A form of listening.

This collection is an invitation to pause.
To sit with work that doesn’t demand attention, but rewards it.
To remember that not everything meaningful announces itself.