Cinnamon Roll

In terms of comforts, the scent of cinnamon is right up there. If it just happens to be between rolled coils of a brioche like bread and topped with a crispy glaze of vanilla, well, how can anything in the world go wrong? Think about it, someone got up early in morning, mixed this dough, went through all the steps, rising , shaping, baking and then of course finished it off with an excellent crispy sheen. When I painted this I knew balance and nuance were the keys. It whispers.Tones resting gently next to one another. A compliment here and there for a little spice. This is a caress. Something that resonates gently but deeply. A friend from New Orleans called me earlier to share the sound of horse hooves clip clopping down St. Charles. He knows it is a favorite sound of mine that I used to hear regularly outside my window. It's a pacing thing, a timelessness. A rhythm more akin to a heartbeat. Squishing paint on a palette, choosing from a beautifully made Sennelier naples yellow, or a Schmincke burnt sienna, pulling a sable brush across a surface, I feel akin to the baker in my own clip clopping way.