Boats at anchor before a glowing, colour-block harbour town, painted in oil with a palette knife. Scratched white reflections ripple across deep teal water.
A row of boats sits at anchor while the town behind them lights up. The buildings are little blocks of yellow, red, green and blue, pressed on with the knife so they read more like lamps than houses. A red glow spreads out behind them where the sky is giving up the last of the day.
The water is where I’d look longest. It’s a deep, cold teal, with reflections scratched through it in quick white lines, as if the surface is still settling after the last boat came in. Three small red buoys float in the foreground and pull the eye down into it.
It’s oil, thick in places and thin in others, and it feels like a harbour town you’d pass on the coast road, a bit rough around the edges and better for it. Bright, but not loud.
