Water’s Edge, 2026

I have been drawn to water for as long as I can remember. Growing up in the “Land of 10,000 Lakes”, the nearest one was just steps away. It was closer than any playground, with more adventures on offer. My favorite was climbing a tree whose branches sprawled over the shallows: from on high I could gaze at the mesmerizing reflection of the lacy branchlets and get lost in their dancing lines.

Decades later, I ended up here in the watery Pacific Northwest. Seattle’s Green Lake became my home, and the source of many of my paintings. Its foggy mornings, inviting docks and evolving cast of arboreal characters remind me that nature’s astonishing beauty and complexity is right here—if I can just slow down enough to get that hit of awe.

Not much further afield, the Pacific Ocean’s carved bluffs recede into the distance, drawing time on an epochal scale. A walk on one of its endless beaches is a much-needed reprieve from the chaos and disorder that spills from the device in my pocket. Perhaps it is the multisensory effect: the salty air, the rhythm of waves washing ashore, the sand under my feet, icy water washing over them, again and again, without end. At the water’s edge, I am somehow both calmer and more energized, clear of mind. It is that state of equanimity I hope to convey in these paintings.

Christine Gedye, May 2026