The most minimal and the most compositionally radical landscape in the entire collection — and one of the most visually striking. A vast white ground occupies approximately three-quarters of the picture surface, nearly untouched. In the upper right quadrant, a single explosive sun form blazes: a compact sphere of yellow-orange-red-pink marks, each one a separate brush stroke radiating outward from a pale center, the whole form dense and spiky like a sea urchin or a chrysanthemum or the cross-section of a star.
In the lower third, barely rendered, the ghost of a mountain landscape: a thin green line across the horizon, and below it, a few lines in brown and pale green that suggest mountain slopes more than describe them. These landscape marks are so lightly painted they are almost not there — the suggestion of a mountain beneath this sun, the implication of a world below the light.
At upper left, a small cluster of blue-gray cloud forms — again barely present, the minimum cloud necessary to keep the sky from being pure abstraction.
The relationship between the explosive detail of the sun and the near-absence of everything else is the work's compositional argument. The sun is everything. The world below it barely exists. This is the sun as Sidney understood it — not as background lighting but as the central event of any landscape, the thing that makes everything else visible and everything else peripheral.
The un-signed state suggests this may be a study or an unfinished work. But it has the quality of a deliberate decision — Sidney stopping when the essential thing was done.