After The Storm (2022 - )

A kaleidoscopic specter of refracting light blankets the land and morning is a frozen shroud. Entire trees, each and every oak leaf encased within large crystalline clusters, pulling the branches from azure to earth. A reckoning with gravity awaits the cedars as the needles are weighted in surreal ice flows. With the passing hours, each degree of warmth brings a steady, rhythmic melt of destruction and the echoes of fractured limbs, felled trees, and the sounds of the forest crying.

Walking the land and observing the destruction requires disengagement from emotions and memory; I simply need to breathe and accept the reality. I begin to reexamine the responsibilities of stewardship for this small piece of earth I call home. Aside from the immensity of the cleanup that awaits everyone in the region, another responsibility comes to mind – grace – returning a bit of grace to a shattered forest. There is a near unlimited resource for the imagination. Every limb, log, trunk and branch holds forth the possibility of a new sculptural reality. Everything before me is a connection to the beauty that was, to the beauty that can be.