Lynda Bunnell approaches painting as excavation. Her surfaces carry the feeling of something uncovered slowly over time rather than immediately composed. Layers are buried, scraped back and reworked until traces of earlier decisions begin to emerge through the final image. The paintings hold a weathered quality that recalls old walls, worn architecture and objects shaped by years of exposure.

Bunnell’s path into painting grew from earlier work weaving pine needle vessels, an experience that sharpened her sensitivity to texture, color and hand-built process. Today her practice moves between abstraction and suggestion. Birds, symbols and fragments of landscape occasionally surface within the compositions before dissolving back into atmosphere. The work never feels overly explained. It asks viewers to slow down and remain present with the painting as it gradually reveals itself.