Working one winter's day in downtown Duluth I saw a gull, one of many that were cruising to and fro between the tops of buildings near the end of a wet snowfall, pass from sight at the edge of the window, swooping up over the rooftop of an old brick theatre. At the same moment a pile of snow collapsed from off the edge of the theatre so it looked like the gull had crashed into the brickwork and crumbled into smithereens of white. I did this painting to capture that spectacle, making the edifice a hybrid of a rock citadel like Palisade Head far up the shore with the Greysolon Hotel which was visible from my workplace. In my nightly runs home this past winter by old Toyota Prius along the highway to the north I felt terribly tense and exposed, all the other vehicles much faster and most much bigger. I welcomed the chance to escape the highway for the route west through frozen bogland where a few reflectors marked one-lane forest routes. Their blue or red gleams in the dark, along with the lasting red of frozen highbush cranberry, proffer to the perishing bird a lost hope of nourishment and safety.