In Le Lac de Buclet, I revisit water’s quiet presence—a still lake surface held between earth and sky, where reflection becomes both mirror and memory. Executed in oil and wax on card (50 cm × 62 cm), the work speaks to an intimate encounter with place rather than the sweeping grandeur of landscape.
 
Wax, with its translucent, layered quality, becomes a medium of pause and preservation. It holds the light and the hushed forms of water and land in a moment suspended. I want the viewer to feel the hush of that space: the subtle ripple, the drifting cloud above the water, the gentle pull of depth beneath a calm surface.
 
While much of my work explores the bushland, the scrub, the interior terrains of Australia, in this piece I move towards stillness and reflection. The subject—the lake—serves as a metaphor for contemplation: how we hold place, how we remember it, how surfaces may appear simple but contain depth. The board’s size invites closeness; you are not an observer at a great distance, but someone leaning in.
 
The palette is muted yet attentive: the faintest blues and greys, soft shifts of light, the hint of landscape beyond the lake’s edge. The forms are gentle—no dramatic storms or bold contrasts—just the steady presence of place, quietly holding itself in time. What intrigues me is the threshold: between water and land, between light and shadow, between seeing and being seen.
 
My hope is that Le Lac de Buclet offers a moment of stillness to the viewer—not just to look, but to dwell; not just to register colour, but to feel the hush of air, the quiet of reflection. It asks: when we stand before a lake and look into its surface, what do we see — the reflection of the world, or our own reflection in that world? And how might the land ask us to pause?
 
50cm x 62cm Oil and wax on card