Where do we find ourselves? Gathered in the looming dark. Adrift at sea. At the mercy of massive forces only dimly understood. We struggle to maintain a sense of our own integrity while confronting the unseemly multitudes we contain. We peruse our shame and ponder or complicity. Can we make or maintain contact? Is union possible? Community? Communion? How to keep going when the sun is setting. Despite the dying light I choose to paint. This is Eveningland. What the dawn may bring troubles me.