My studio has a high ceiling and three windows lining the southern wall. Often this light is a source of frustration to me as it blinds or obscures my canvas with glare, resulting in resentful movements of myself and my work to corners of the room unaffected by the light. A couple days ago in my nomadic journey through the studio I was caught off guard as I turned to see a painting done the day before drying in a corner, half lit by the sun, half kissed by shadow. As often is the case for me, it is in these moments that strike me as sensational moments of living…these times, these images that catch my eye and my breath. What is it about shadow that draws me? Perhaps it’s the mystery?