We are fortunate to have a large dam overlooked by the house. The surface of water is a mirror. Every day I see how changing light affects the appearance. It’s a mysterious dance of colour and movement. If I want to capture it in a photograph, it has to be now. In a minute it will look different.

It’s strange this tension between stillness and the march of time. There are seasonal rhythms, daily plays of shadow and glint, rising and lowering water levels. Plants self seed into newly exposed soil, then are drowned when the rains come. Cormorants fish, dragonflies skim over ripples, ducks explode across the surface in mating season, reappearing with ducklings in spring. Herons search for amphibians, yabbies and fresh water mussels around the edges. Shy Long-Necked Turtles peek from their reedy shelters and hang from the floating hose, which connects to the pump. Their favourite sunning spot. Kangaroos and wallabies drink in the early morning, and in the golden hour. Birds bathe. And on days like today, rain and wind creates a grey, puckered surface. This body of water is the source of so much life.

Capturing Liquid Moods

While I have thousands of photographs of the dam, I never refer to them when I paint water. Sometimes I don’t even realise I am painting water. It’s only afterwards, when I see the results of an intense burst of intuitive painting, I recognise the dam surface. Often it is captured in mid-afternoon when the tree trunks and gum leaves blend with the sky in long stripes of colour. Sometimes at midday, when the sun creates golden reflections of the sand coloured soil. Or my favourite time, late afternoon when deep shaded tones cover half of the water, sunset colours the other half. The surface of water is endlessly fascinating.

If you enjoyed reading this post, you can see other posts in the series here. ‘Summer by the Dam’ is for sale as a print, and you can see the details here. If you are interested in buying the original painting, please get in touch with me here.