The day the summer gone

The work is done in the classic layered technique on high-quality canvas.

"The Day When Summer Disappeared"
There are days when turning points occur, after which there is no turning back. Last Wednesday was one of those days: a huge, prolonged downpour brought not only the autumn cold, but also reminded us that the summer season had come to an end.

That day, I went out to paint on location at about nine oclock in the morning. Having dreamed of capturing this place for several years and having long ago chosen the part of the road that I liked the most, I was in a hurry to start painting as soon as possible. Already in the morning, it was felt that something would happen that day: a furious wind tore the sketchbook and the work out of my hands, bent the grass and trees to the ground, solid clouds appeared on the horizon every now and then, hiding the sun for a long time and floating by as a drizzling rain, and then dissolving in the sunny haze.

But then everything around became quiet: the birch trunks straightened up, the silver shine that appears on the tall grass in the wind disappeared, the sun came out. And on the horizon, slowly and unhurriedly, a dark veil began to appear, soon beginning to cover the sky from edge to edge. And then it became clear to me that everything that had happened was only a prelude to a heavy downpour that would envelop the earth in cold.

I quickly packed my things and returned home: the painting was almost ready, all that was left was to finish a few places, which could be done while already in a homely environment.

... The rain pounded the roof of the house all evening, all night and all morning. It was cozy and familiar to work at the easel. The memories were so strong that the painting seemed to be writing itself, and I was just a small link between the palette and the brush. I really wanted to convey the feeling that the sun had just disappeared behind the clouds, still leaving warm light here and there, and that dark rain clouds were about to appear from somewhere on the left...