21 Final Flight

Final Flight holds a quiet instant between preparation and release, a suspended breath where anticipation outweighs consequence. This is the second balsa wood, rubber-powered aeroplane in the series, following Freedom, yet it occupies a very different emotional space. Where the earlier painting spoke of drift and surrender, this one is defined by purpose. The plane is heading away from us, its rubber fully wound, carrying with it stored energy, optimism, and the promise of distance yet to be travelled.

The decision to paint the aircraft from behind is significant. We are no longer witnesses to the craft’s arrival but to its departure. Its nose points toward the open sky, away from the familiar fence line and treetops below. This change in perspective invites the viewer to consider what it means to let something go while knowing it still has power. The journey has only just begun. Unlike the unwound rubber of Freedom, which marked the quiet end of propulsion, Final Flight hums with potential. Everything lies ahead.

The setting reinforces this sense of departure. A modest suburban fence anchors the lower edge of the composition, a boundary between the grounded world and the expansive sky beyond. Trees frame the scene like silent spectators, their dark foliage contrasting with the warm glow of the clouds. The sky itself is calm yet expansive, offering no immediate obstacles, only distance. It is a landscape that feels safe enough to leave, yet meaningful enough to remember.

Integral to the work is my connection to the object itself. These are not imagined aeroplanes but carefully built ones, constructed before brush ever meets canvas. I began building these planes as a teenager and have returned to the hobby through this series. The patience required to shape balsa wood and wind the rubber just enough mirrors the discipline of painting. Both demand trust in the process and acceptance of the outcome. I get as much joy from building the planes as I do from painting them.

The aeroplane becomes more than a toy; it is a vessel for memory, craftsmanship, and continuity. It represents youthful curiosity carried forward into adulthood, not abandoned but refined. By painting these planes, I preserve a fleeting experience, one that in reality lasts only moments before gravity intervenes. On canvas, however, the flight is endless.

Final Flight speaks to confidence rather than nostalgia. It is about forward motion, stored energy, and belief in the path ahead. The plane does not circle back; it commits. In doing so, it echoes a universal experience, the moment when preparation is complete, the wind is favourable, and all that remains is to let go and trust the journey.

Oil on fine portrait linen: 95 x 178 cm; 37.4 x 70.1 in (sold)