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Description
When his wife, Edie, dies, Will Moran abandons all he used to be, and do, to paint still life canvases of rocks and driftwood on the walls of his house. He's never painted before, recognizes that his paintings are awkward and ugly, but returns each day to his struggles with light and shadow, color and object, boundary and perspective. He eavesdrops on neighbors, dips into garbage cans, and fills his home with rocks he collects from local beaches. Through it all, he clings to his still lifes, each another attempt to represent the simplest elements of his world-rocks, wood, and grief.
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When his wife, Edie, dies, Will Moran abandons all he used to be, and do, to paint still life canvases of rocks and driftwood on the walls of his house. He's never painted before, recognizes that his paintings are awkward and ugly, but returns each day to his struggles with light and shadow, color and object, boundary and perspective. He eavesdrops on neighbors, dips into garbage cans, and fills his home with rocks he collects from local beaches. Through it all, he clings to his still lifes, each another attempt to represent the simplest elements of his world-rocks, wood, and grief.
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