Yamaha RD350 at Dusk

I painted this piece to hold a feeling I keep returning to: the quiet before a ride, when the world softens and time seems to wait for you. At its heart sits a maroon Yamaha RD350, its chrome catching the last warmth of the day. I built the metal with thick, deliberate strokes, letting the impasto rise off the surface so the light feels almost touchable. The bike is old, honest, alive with memory.

Behind it, the city dissolves into dusk. I let warm orange and yellow streetlights bleed across wet asphalt, their reflections stretching like whispered thoughts. Distant silhouettes of buildings lean into the haze, deliberately loose, because I wanted atmosphere over detail. The winding road pulls your eye forward, into somewhere unspoken.

For me, this machine is more than steel and spark. It carries the stories we all understand: the pull of freedom, the ache of nostalgia, the beauty found in worn, well-loved things. Painting it reminded me that we each carry a road of our own, marked by where we have been.

I hope you feel that shared longing here, and that it stays with you long after you look away.