Gold Leaf, Light, and What Endures: wHY i kEEP RETURNING TO GOLD

Gold has found its way into my paintings for years.
Not because it’s beautiful—although it is.
Not because it catches the light—although it does.
I keep coming back to gold because of what it represents.
When I first began experimenting with gold leaf, I thought of it as an accent. A way to add contrast or create a focal point.
Over time, I realized it had become something much more personal.
Gold became part of the story.
Unlike paint, gold doesn’t absorb light.
It reflects it.
As you move around a painting, the surface changes. Areas that seemed quiet suddenly glow. Details that were hidden begin to appear. The artwork becomes something slightly different depending on where you’re standing.
I love that.
It reminds me that perspective changes everything.
The same painting can reveal something new with just a shift in light.
Maybe people are like that too.
Some of the brightest parts of our lives aren’t obvious at first. Sometimes they only become visible after time, distance, or a different point of view.
Gold has carried meaning for centuries.
It has been used in sacred spaces, illuminated manuscripts, ceremonial objects, and works of art created to endure. It has long symbolized holiness, value, beauty, and permanence.
When I incorporate gold into my work, I’m not trying to imitate history.
I’m participating in a conversation that has existed long before me.
In many of my paintings, especially those inspired by Jerusalem, gold becomes more than a color.
It becomes light.
Not sunlight.
Hope.
It weaves through ancient stone, settles into textured surfaces, and quietly reminds me that even places marked by history can continue to shine.
I think that’s why I’m drawn to textured surfaces as well.
The gold catches on the highest ridges and settles into the smallest crevices.
The light doesn’t erase the texture.
It reveals it.
There is something comforting about that.
We often believe our rough edges should be hidden.
That we need to smooth out every imperfection before we’re ready to be seen.
Painting has taught me something different.
Sometimes the places with the most texture are the places where the light lingers longest.
Perhaps that’s why I never try to make my canvases perfectly smooth.
I want them to hold evidence of the process.
Every layer.
Every mark.
Every decision.
Because perfection has never interested me as much as authenticity.
Gold doesn’t hide the story beneath it.
It honors it.
As I continue to paint, I know gold will continue to find its way into my work.
Not because every painting needs it.
But because every now and then, a piece asks for a little more light.
And I’ve learned to listen.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
For me, that’s what gold has always represented.
Not decoration.
Hope that endures.