A Moment of Disruption Writ Large
Quiet grays, screaming reds, and a piece at Fogue Gallery in Seattle
The Quiet Grays & Screaming Reds
I’ve been exploring something different in my studio lately, a deliberately limited palette centered around variations of gray with subtle tonal shifts, dramatically punctuated by cadmium red.
This new direction feels both uncertain and inevitable. I’m building layers of muted grays that hold a certain coolness, a quietude that feels familiar to my landscape work. But then there’s the red: sharp, jolting, almost confrontational in its vibrancy against the subdued background.
I’ve been wondering if this exploration circles back to my earlier themes of disruption, a topic I find myself returning to repeatedly in my work. There’s something about the way the red cuts through the calm grays that mirrors how disruption functions in life, and the feelings associated with it that I feel draw to exploring: unexpected, demanding attention, altering the whole even when occupying only a fraction of the space. The way that something small can feel like it takes up the whole.
The emotional resonance is unmistakable to me, even if I’m unsure yet whether the viewer would pick up on this. The grays give me that sense of peaceful contemplation that I’ve always attached to landscapes, while the red draws from somewhere deeper — perhaps from somewhere a little emotionally sensitive. It’s the contrast between these states that feels important to me to express right now.
I’m still unsure about this exploration, but it feels like the right direction. Sometimes the uncertainty itself is the point — that space between knowing and questioning where the most interesting discoveries happen.
In my last newsletter, I shared my piece A Flight in the Right Direction, another exploration on paper that’s helping me work through these themes of motion and disruption within a static landscape.
Working on paper continues to allow me a freedom of exploration that feels essential right now. There’s something wonderfully low-stakes about paper compared to canvas that encourages risk-taking — the very thing needed when pushing into new territory.
See my work in Georgetown at Fogue Studios!
I’m excited to share that my piece Soon We Emerged from the Cradle is currently on display at Fogue Gallery in Georgetown, Seattle as part of the Puget Sound Group of Northwest Artists spring show!]
Soon We Emerged From The Cradle
Acrylic on gallery canvas, 30” x 24”
Available at Fogue Studios Gallery until May 25th
The show runs until May 25th, and I’d be thrilled if those of you in the Seattle area could see this piece in person. Georgetown remains one of my favorite neighborhoods in Seattle, and Fogue Gallery is a wonderful space showcasing remarkable artists.
This is a great opportunity to not only see my work but also to experience the vibrant art community that makes Georgetown so special. If you do visit, I’d love to hear your thoughts!
From the Archives
This piece, Witness the Harmony of Our Collective Sorrows, was one that came out of post-Covid uncertainty. The title reflects my feeling that the world was grieving as one chorus, but the colors felt optimistic. I love this piece, and I display it where I can see it (but it’s for sale if it speaks to you!).
Witness the Harmony of Our Collective Sorrows
Acrylic and graphite on gallery canvas, 30” x 24”
$650 - available for sale
Morning Fog and Spring Transitions
The Pacific Northwest is doing what it does best right now: transitioning into spring with those magical morning fog banks and steam rising from the warming earth. It’s so fleeting but incredibly rewarding to catch those moments when the mist hangs between trees or rises from a field.
These transitional moments in nature feel particularly aligned with where my work is heading — caught between states, neither here nor there, but beautiful in their uncertainty and impermanence. There’s something about that morning fog that mirrors the grays in my new palette while promising the warmth that will burn through later in the day.
May you catch a moment of beauty in whatever transition surrounds you. Stay well, friends.
—Caryn
Issaquah, WA
May 2025