Bone Book Blog: Grey days, and what returns

Living in Vancouver, British Columbia, there are many days when the light is low and the world feels muted — the romantic view is that rain softens edges and time slows almost without asking.

On days like these, solitude becomes less of a withdrawal and more of a shelter.

I have come to value grey days. They ask nothing. They quiet the outer noise and make room for a different kind of attention. The studio feels especially alive for me then — not with energy, but with permission. Permission to move slowly, to sit longer with a single image, to let color arrive rather than be forced.

Rain has a way of restoring balance. It dims what is excessive and brings forward what is subtle. In its presence, color at the canvas feels earned — a gentle return rather. A soft blue, a held warmth, a figure emerging without insistence.

Solitude for me on days like this are not loneliness. It is a form of listening. To what wants to come through and allowing it.

Much of the work at Willow & Wing is made in this atmosphere — during grey afternoons,(long Canadian winters) under soft rain, when color finds its way back through patience rather than will.

There is comfort in that rhythm.

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