During my residency in Gloucester last September we had a few extraordinary days following two passing hurricanes. The evenings were especially incredible, and this painting depicts the last kiss of sunlight on the extraordinary spray of those gigantic waves. While I stood and watched with the crowd, this Dylan Thomas poem came to mind, and that's where the title of the painting comes from.
Dylan Thomas - 1914-1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
