Copperlight
A woman framed by a storm of copper curls, her green gaze steady and unhurried in the warm half-light of a doorway.
In “Copperlight,” a cascade of auburn curls frames a face of quiet composure. Kevin Van Pelt clearly delights in the hair — ribbons of copper, amber and burnt gold that twist and catch the light — but it is the eyes that hold us, green and level, meeting the viewer without pretense.
The warm interior behind her, all soft browns and the suggestion of a paneled door, lets her skin glow against it. Kevin lets lavender settle in the lips and shadows, a cool counterpoint to the surrounding warmth, and the whole portrait hums with that gentle tension.
It is an intimate, generous likeness — a painter’s affection for his subject made visible in every curl and every carefully warmed shadow.
