The Coming Storm
The Coming Storm?
He stands at the edge of a wild and whispering field, where crimson flowers sway like soft-spoken warnings and the sky unfurls its restless heart. A storm brews on the horizon—bold, beautiful, uncertain—mirroring the turbulence in his own. Shadows and sunlight tangle in the clouds above, casting streaks of gold, violet, and doubt across the land. Yet he doesn’t turn away. In his stillness, there’s courage. In the coming storm, possibility. This is not just weather. It’s a reckoning. A beginning. A choice held in the hush before the winds rise.
Medium: Watercolor on Paper
Size: 14 X 7
The Coming Storm?
He stands at the edge of a wild and whispering field, where crimson flowers sway like soft-spoken warnings and the sky unfurls its restless heart. A storm brews on the horizon—bold, beautiful, uncertain—mirroring the turbulence in his own. Shadows and sunlight tangle in the clouds above, casting streaks of gold, violet, and doubt across the land. Yet he doesn’t turn away. In his stillness, there’s courage. In the coming storm, possibility. This is not just weather. It’s a reckoning. A beginning. A choice held in the hush before the winds rise.
Medium: Watercolor on Paper
Size: 14 X 7
The Coming Storm?
He stands at the edge of a wild and whispering field, where crimson flowers sway like soft-spoken warnings and the sky unfurls its restless heart. A storm brews on the horizon—bold, beautiful, uncertain—mirroring the turbulence in his own. Shadows and sunlight tangle in the clouds above, casting streaks of gold, violet, and doubt across the land. Yet he doesn’t turn away. In his stillness, there’s courage. In the coming storm, possibility. This is not just weather. It’s a reckoning. A beginning. A choice held in the hush before the winds rise.
Medium: Watercolor on Paper
Size: 14 X 7