Hope and Trust

Original 12 x 12 inch pastel on paper

Every so often, I come across one of my dad’s pieces that feels like it’s holding a conversation inside it, and Hope and Trust is one of those. The figure appears almost suspended between movement and stillness—surrounded by these sweeping fields of color that pull the eye in every direction. I’ve learned that when he reaches for this kind of bold, open space in a composition, he’s usually feeling his way toward an emotion rather than a scene.

There’s something vulnerable and steady here at the same time. The cool blues and violets create this sense of quiet, while the brighter pinks and yellows push forward like a reminder that even uncertainty can carry its own kind of strength. It’s the kind of painting that makes you stop—not because everything is clear, but because not everything is supposed to be.

As I archive pieces like this, I’m always struck by how directly his work communicates without needing to explain itself. Hope and Trust is a great example of that—an honest moment, distilled into color and line, still reaching forward all this time later.