E dgewater carries the rhythm of still water and the quiet tension that exists just beneath its surface. Shapes lean into one another, drifting between reflection and movement. My father has a way of painting silence — not as emptiness, but as presence. You feel it in the space between the edges, in the pauses where color meets restraint.

This work begins, as many of his abstracts do, from a handful of loose gestures layered with collage fragments. Over time, those shapes find equilibrium. There’s a shoreline feeling — not literal, but sensed — where air and water trade places. What stands out to me is the rhythm of the edges: darker forms anchoring the piece while bright fields pulse against them, suggesting both structure and surrender — motion and calm held together by trust in the process.