Columbine in Spring is a celebration of mountain clarity. Richard Wieth paints the flower the way a breeze feels—light on its feet, bright in the air, alive with small shifts of temperature. The blue petals open toward a cool sky while spring greens rise behind them in bands of soft focus, letting the blossoms hold center. Edges are selective: a crisp ridge along a petal tip, a softened transition where light slips around the form, a flicker of pale yellow at the throat.
 
This is impressionism tuned to presence. The surface invites close looking. Broken color makes the meadow breathe; small scumbles suggest the micro-shadows petals cast on each other. Yet from across the room, the composition reads as a single, confident gesture: a wildflower in its element, catching the day just as it is.
 
The painting suits spaces that want freshness without fuss—an entryway, a breakfast corner, a quiet studio wall. It carries optimism without decoration, the kind that settles a room and draws you in for another look.