When I created Thunderstruck, an 11×14 inch oil on board, I was channeling a collision of raw, disruptive energy. The process is a visceral dialogue with the canvas, using a palette knife to physically layer, scrape, and build peaks of texture.
The painting is dominated by deep, stormy indigos and cool blues that provide the architectural weight of a tempest. These dark masses are deliberately fractured by sharp horizontal swipes of pure, shocking white—like static lightning in a clouded sky.
The dynamic center is ignited by an unexpected, jarring blast of electric, almost acidic yellow, a focal point that visually captures that sudden ‘thunderstruck’ jolt. Around it, I’ve integrated contrasting passages of vibrant coral-pink and softer peachy-salmon tones. These colors don’t sit passively; they vibrate against the dark blues, suggesting both a pre-storm glow and the powerful, turbulent heat released during an electric event.
I’ve allowed hints of the underpainting, specific bright oranges and unexpected purple-violets, to bleed through in distressed edges and intentional scrapings. This deep texture ensures that every viewing angle reveals a new movement or color interaction. For me, Thunderstruck isn’t a depictive landscape; it is a direct abstract translation of that singular, transformative moment when nature’s force completely resets the visual field.
