A few days ago I posted 18 small paintings. It’s the first time I’ve ever shown these paintings publicly. Many of them were painted under adverse conditions in my life. I delayed offering them to you for a long time for three reasons.

• They are intimate glimpse into my initial creative process.
• They were more valuable to me as continual sources of inspiration then short term profit.
• I just liked having them around. . . the range of colors is surprising.

Detail of Keys 1 Painting

Well time passed, and perspective came, and I realized that the process of painting them is the more valuable thing to me.

And I have finally decided to let them go
. . .but I might change my mind.

Many of the paintings are studies of the sun and moon, rising and setting, times of day when amazing colors of light and their effect on the landscape will change dramatically, within minutes, within seconds.

As I was chasing those colors, I worked like lightning, mixing paint and striking it down, rubbing and refining, trying to capture complex, changing color relationships.

I worked close and efficiently, with my palette almost on top of my canvas to minimize the motion of moving paint to panel, working almost intuitively, painting while keeping my eyes on the subject. Colors and memory quickly fade. Painting small allows me to paint colors as soon as they appear before they disappear.  When I was s a child, my dad kept telling me, move faster son, we’re burning daylight.

Forty some years later I reckon I finally listened.

Click Here to View the 18 Paintings.

Sunrise by Daniel Ambrose

I am letting go of some of my small plein air field studies. I love these little paintings. They are tremendous resources of information for me, subtle nuances of color captured from life, each one a story, some of them have my handwritten notes on the back.  The colors of natural light are amazing.

You can see them here. There is a secure PayPal link at the bottom of each one that takes you to a checkout page where you have the option of using your credit card.

Also I will take interest free monthly payments of $50 on any of them. Just let me know by email and we’ll set it up for you.

Of course I will gladly paint you a larger version of one in egg tempera too.

I take layaway.

Up Coming Event

The Crossnore Fine Arts Gallery will be exhibiting my new paintings at the Charlotte Country Club in North Carolina, Thursday,  November 19th. Should be a fun ni

The road to my studio in North Carolina. Whenever I travel to a new area I like to walk the land soaking up impressions to get a feel for it. I make small paintings such as this one to study the light, colors and textures. Oil on Canvas 6 in. x 8 in. $450

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Orange groves once populated much of central Florida, oranges likely outnumbering people. Today there are few groves; freezes and citrus canker destroying what strip malls leave. On highway 11 just twenty minutes west of where I live, a few small groves are hold outs. One of my simple pleasures is cruising down that road in spring with the truck windows open just smelling the orange blossoms.

A collector was in the studio a while back telling me Ponkans were his favorite orange, and like many things in my life I suddenly remembered what I forgot. I hadn’t had a Ponkan in years. Fast forward to last week and I was driving down highway 11 to deliver some art, the oranges are in season, and hand lettered signs of rural growers advertised their fruit; navels, tangelos, ambersweet . . . ponkans. . . Ponkans!

I pulled into the dirt road. Lining the wood fence on homemade benches sat white plastic pails piled high with oranges. Ponkans! Six dollars a bucket – put the money in the honor box and no fruit switching said the neatly lettered sign.

As we stood there deciding how many buckets to buy, a car pulled in and parked in the drive next to the house. A slim white haired gentleman got out and walked over to us. “Are these your oranges – did you grow them here?” I asked. He did he said and introduced himself as Henry Dutton formerly from North Carolina. We talked oranges for awhile and when I complimented him on how nice his signs looked (I was a sign painter once), gazing around his grove he said “well you take a little pride in the things you believe in.”