This abstract landscape grew out of three separate memories that seemed to merge together while I was painting.
Part of the work was shaped by a memory of driving east from Vancouver into the Rocky Mountains—the slow unfolding of vast valleys and shifting light as the road winds deeper into the range. At the same time, I was thinking about a four-wheel-drive track I had travelled earlier that day with my family, heading down through bushland to a hidden beach.
Threaded through these images was also the story Tomorrow, When the War Began. The title lingered in my mind as I painted, creating a quiet tension between the calmness of the landscape and the idea that something significant might be about to unfold.
The painting emerged through that blend of memories and atmosphere rather than through direct depiction. Built with light greens, muted yellows, soft oranges, raw umbers, and touches of blue, the palette spans a wide spectrum but ultimately leans toward the cooler side, giving the work a calm, contemplative presence.
At first glance the painting reads as abstraction. But as you spend time with it, suggestions of terrain begin to appear—valleys, distant ridgelines, shifting planes of land and sky. It’s the kind of image that slowly reveals itself; the longer you look, the more the landscape begins to make sense.
Despite its dramatic title, the overall feeling of the work is peaceful and grounded. The cooler palette and spacious composition make it well suited to places where calm is welcome—a dining room, bedroom, or a quieter living space.
The Valley in Which the War Began holds that tension between stillness and story: a landscape suspended in the moment before something changes.
