Everyone knows the Big Dipper.
That’s almost suspicious.
It’s the first constellation people learn. The one someone points out on a camping trip or during a blackout, like it’s doing you a favor. Familiar. Friendly. Reliable.
Which made it hard to paint.
The first few sketches leaned into comfort. Clear star connections. Obvious shapes. A goddess who felt like a guide. It all looked… educational. Like something meant to explain the sky instead of belong to it.
I scrapped those pretty fast.
Ursa Major isn’t comforting.
She’s constant.
And constancy has weight.
The Night This One Finally Clicked
This didn’t come from a dramatic moment. No epiphany.
I was taking trash out behind the studio late, half-asleep, and looked up out of habit.
There it was. Same place it’s always been.
That’s when it hit me:
Ursa Major doesn’t move for you.
You move under her.
So I stopped trying to make her welcoming.
Letting the Stars Stay Where They Are
The goddess form emerged slowly, almost reluctantly. She isn’t posed. She isn’t presenting herself. Her presence is implied through mass, through shadow, through how the stars organize the space around her rather than decorate her.
The Big Dipper isn’t drawn like a diagram.
It’s embedded—partially visible, partially swallowed by the night.
You recognize it, but you don’t get to trace it neatly.
That tension—that mix of recognition and unease—was the whole point.
What Actually Made This Painting Hold Together
Familiar Without Explanation
The constellation is readable, but not instructional. No lines. No labels. Just placement.
Negative Space as Sky, Not Emptiness
Large areas of dark, breathing space let the stars feel distant, not decorative.
Weight Over Motion
Unlike Sagittarius, nothing here is leaving. The composition presses downward, gently but insistently.
A Presence, Not a Portrait
Her form is suggested through silhouette, gravity, and light falloff—not facial detail.
Consistent Oil Texture Everywhere
Sky, figure, stars—same physical paint language throughout. No polished focal cheats.
Color That Feels Old
Deep indigo, muted midnight blues, restrained starlight ivory. Almost festive, but aged. Like lights that have been on for centuries.
