An original oil, hand-laid on canvas: a hawk caught at the exact, breathless instant of the stoop — talons flung forward, wings still drinking the wind, the pale winter sky dissolving behind it into soft scrub and bramble. The brushwork runs loose where the air is and tight where the bird is, so the eye snaps straight to those outstretched claws. Dressed in a black-and-gilt moulded frame with a cream linen slip, it has the hushed authority of a piece that was painted, not printed. There is, in that single arrested second, an entire metaphysics of falling: the bird is at once predator and prayer, gravity and grace, a feathered argument that the most violent moment can also be the most serene. Every loose lick of paint in the background seems to hold its breath so that the taut, trembling bird may take all of yours, and the cream linen slip frames the drama like the matte hush of a held silence before the talons close — a hunt suspended forever one wingbeat short of its terrible, exquisite conclusion.
- Medium
- Original oil on canvas
- Framing
- Quality frame, unglazed (no glass)
- Artwork size
- 580 mm × 480 mm
- Framed size
- 790 mm × 700 mm
