At Some Point, We Have to Go (Sunset Dog Walk)

2025, oil on linen, 16 x 20 x 1.5 in, walnut floater frame

You and your dog walk the shoreline at sunset, the last light stretched thin across the horizon before night fully arrives. The sky takes over the scene—huge, saturated with electric violet—reminding you how small you are against the slow turning of the world. The sand burns with neon warmth, reflecting those final minutes of day when everything seems to glow harder just before it disappears.

This painting sits inside the feeling of endings—the quiet recognition that every moment, no matter how ordinary or beloved, eventually asks you to let it go. The long run of beach becomes a stand-in for time itself: always moving forward, unavoidable, unspooling beneath your feet. The dog’s presence keeps the image grounded in tenderness, a reminder that even the hardest departures soften when they’re shared.

The title holds a simple truth and a deeper one. You leave the beach when the light fades; you leave chapters of your life when their time is done. There’s a gentle ache in accepting that, and a strange beauty in knowing the glow is often brightest right on the edge of losing it.