Above and below are the front and back of the announcement card for the current exhibition at the Baker Gallery, Walker Fine Arts Center, Woodberry Forest School, near Orange, Virginia. This show has turned out to be much bigger than I ever imagined it could be.
It features every sunset of the year just past massed chronologically edge to edge in one very large gallery space – like a transparent calendar or, as one visitor put it, one big sky stretching all the way around the room. Early reactions to the show, mostly from various Woodberry faculty, include “astounding” – “epic” – and my favorite so far, “shocking.”
As some of you know, from the beginning I’ve held off from offering any paintings for sale from any of the consecutive sunset series. But as this show began to take shape, I realized it was the right focal point to let these works go to those who might want to have one. So every one of the paintings in the show is available (update: except for 16 or so that have been purchased so far).
Online inquiries are being handled by my associate Wendy Passerell (wendy.passerell@wednesdayevenings.com). If there’s any painting you might like to own, just let Wendy know, and she’ll send details. Probably the easiest way to review the paintings is the entry index at http://www.momentandhorizon.com/post-index/ or the monthly slideshows at http://www.momentandhorizon.com/calendar-archive/.
Meanwhile, consider making the trip to see the exhibit. It’s well worth it for the overall experience, regardless of whether you might be interested in a particular painting. If you can only make it before or after regular gallery hours, just let me know and it should be no problem. The all-important directions to the show can be found here.
With thanks,
Bill
434-806-7227
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William Van Doren, LION IN WINTER (Sunset from Stony Point, Albemarle County, Va.) Oil on watercolor block, 13 x 19.
Sunday, December 19, 2010 at 07:44PM | by 
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Skywriting
Looking out at the sky and noticing the complete change, in the course of an hour, from sunrise to now – from a clear bright-green horizon and a great flying wedge of dark cloud streaked with rose-orange, to this scatter of soft cold clouds against a glaring white ceiling – the gray cloud pattern appears suddenly as a sort of writing. Literally a message. The sky is a constantly changing series of new messages we’re meant to interpret. The interpretation is not a set of words but just the taking in, as much as possible, of that moment. That moment as written.