Waiting for the Savanna

Following a painting in progress from the last light of sunset towards a bright blue bench beneath an acacia tree

There is a particular stillness that settles over the landscape after the sun has slipped below the horizon. The light does not disappear immediately. It lingers in the sky, softening the land and leaving behind a final glow.

That fleeting moment became the starting point for Waiting for the Savanna.

The painting centres on an acacia tree standing beside a quiet road. Beneath its branches will be a bright blue bench—an unexpected point of colour within the warm, earthy landscape. The bench has been part of the idea from the beginning, although I have deliberately waited before painting it. I want the surrounding landscape to establish its atmosphere first, so that the blue feels intentional when it finally appears.

As the painting has developed, the sky has guided many of my decisions. Because the sun is already beneath the horizon, the light needs to feel indirect. Rather than painting a visible sun, I have worked with warm reds, oranges and muted golds to suggest its remaining presence.

The acacia tree has required patience. Its distinctive shape needs to be recognisable without becoming rigid or overly controlled. I have gradually built its trunk, branches and canopy, paying close attention to where the final light might catch its form and where the deepest shadows would gather.

The grasses have presented a different challenge. A field cannot be created by painting every blade. It needs shifts in colour, softened edges and areas of rest. I have been layering earthy greens, ochres and browns, allowing some passages to remain loose while bringing more detail into selected areas.

The road leads the viewer into the scene, but it must support the tree and bench rather than compete with them. Its colour and edges have therefore changed as the surrounding landscape has developed. Like many elements in a painting, it has had to find its place through adjustment rather than arriving fully formed.

The blue bench will change the emotional balance of the work. Against the warm sunset and natural colours of the veld, it will introduce something distinctly human—a place made for sitting, waiting and looking. For me, it suggests both presence and absence. Someone may have just left, or someone may still be expected.

That sense of waiting is what gave the painting its title.

Waiting for the Savanna is still on the easel, and I do not yet know exactly how every part will resolve. That uncertainty is part of the process. A painting often develops through a conversation between the original idea and what begins to happen on the canvas.

For now, the acacia stands beneath the last glow of sunset. The road continues into the landscape, the grasses are slowly finding their rhythm, and a bright blue bench is waiting to take its place beneath the branches.

I will share more as the painting continues to unfold.