a visible uncertainty, foggy morning 36x48" oil on canvas framed in maple frame

a visible uncertainty, foggy morning 36x48" oil on canvas framed in maple frame

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fog suite 1 - silhouette

Every year she awaits

the arrival of the Perseids,

those familiar friends stream

like curtains, just behind,

the silhouette of hands,


“Hello,” and “Goodbye,”

in the same instant

and meaning the same.


Every year they fall

in familiar voices.

They sing swift


in silver and blue.

She cannot tell

if the song is sad


or joyous, and that is okay.


Their presence breaks through

cloud banks and hot tears

where the sky and the water

are the same color.

There is no difference there,

either, or anywhere.

The Perseids, Birdie Rose

oil on canvas unframed

36x48 | $3000


fog suite 1 - foggy morning

This morning I watched fog

Unroll down the hill.

It had gathered itself into

a grand hilltop bank

and thinned,

becoming amorphous, as it spilled

down the slope,

vanishing at the valley’s floor.


And I wondered about evanescence:

Do our lives extravagantly unfurl

and become so widely flung

that every living thing

joyfully, promiscuously

respirates Spirit –

Yours, mine,

vanishing and

the vanished

mingling formless,

invisible but present,


with each misty breath?

Fog, Doug Warn

oil on canvas unframed

36x48 | $3000


fog suite 1 - gray cashmere

You must take up the world’s whole weight
and make it easier to bear.
Toss it like a knapsack
on your shoulders and set out.
The best time is evening, in spring, when
trees breathe calmly and the night promises
to be fine, elm twigs crackle in the garden.
The whole weight? Blood and ugliness? Can’t be done.
A trace of bitterness will linger on your lips,
and the contagious despair of the old woman
you spotted in the tram.
Why lie? After all rapture
exists only in imagination and leaves quickly.
Improvisation – always just improvisation,
great or small, that’s all we know,
in music, as a jazz trumpet weeps happily
or when you stare at the blank page
or try to outwit
sorrow by opening a favorite book of poems;
just then the phone usually rings,
someone asking, would you like to try
the latest model? No thank you.
I prefer the proven brands.
Grayness and monotony remain; grief
the finest elegy can’t heal.
But perhaps there are things hidden from us,
in which sorrow and enthusiasm mix
non-stop, on a daily basis, like the dawn’s birth
above the seashore, no, wait,
like the laughter of those little altar boys
in white vestments, on the corner of St. John and Mark,
Improvisation, Adam Zagajewski
translated by Clare Cavanagh

oil on canvas unframed

36x48 | $3000





    open by appointment

    please call / text

    360-739-2474 or

    email sharonkingston@me.com



    If item is damaged in transit, it will be replaced with a painting of similar style and value.


      203 PROSPECT ST

      Bellingham WA  98225

      my studio is open by masked appointment

      please send me a text with the
      day and time you'd like to come by.

      Sharon Kingston is a Northwest WA oil painter who uses the properties of her medium to create paintings that respond to both the atmosphere of her surroundings and poetry. This method of looking inward and outward and, in the moments of painting, finding her way on the canvas is her approach to creating paintings infused with poetry and the memory of landscape. The atmospheric element of her work is a testament to her desire to create spaces that are undefined, contemplative and allow room to reflect and accept uncertainty. Poetry, by nature open ended, is used both in the conceptualization of the work and as a part of the studio practice. The words of Rainer Rilke have informed Sharon’s work for many years, but she also turns to contemporary poetry when it resonates with her life. She uses layers of transparent color, reveals forms by concealing and unearthing pentimenti and suggests elements of landscape in her process.