Oil / 76 x 50.5 cm / Canvas
A small park by Riverton, South Island. I pass through here every time I travel to Te Anau — there’s a bench, the water, and usually a few sheep wandering the paddock behind.
This evening, a family came out to graze as dusk settled. A ewe and her lamb on the left, another ewe with her lamb on the right. Four of them, unhurried, moving through the grass as if nothing in the world could disturb them.
The smallest lamb stands apart from the others, looking out. Not grazing, not following — just standing there, watching, as if the whole world is still new to him. He doesn’t know what the sky is about to do. He doesn’t need to.
Above them the sky did what it often does in Southland — storm and sunset sharing the same clouds, pink light spilling across the water and into the field. The sheep don’t notice. They just eat.
I almost called this painting Innocence. I didn’t. But it’s still there — in the way the lamb stands, in the way the grass holds them, in the way the evening light falls on all four of them equally, as if nothing has happened yet. (eof)