When walking, the habit is to look just in front of you, at what is in your immediate path. Small things—such as dragonfly wings, or emerald moss—may go unnoticed in a hurry to progress, obstructed by the mud and slush of the everyday. Large forms—like sandstone cliffs, and open terrain—are seemingly still and static, but have layers that change through slow movement of the earth. These are small movements with great significance, only perceived with the passing of time and careful observation.
As I walk, colors, textures, and forms are collected. They evoke emotion, thought, and abstract ideas. Natural forms, those things leading out, up, under, and away, inform artistic invention: landforms, water, wings, and insects that fly, burrow or transform. These things suggest change and growth. Even in abstract works, natural forms emerge, unearthed from what I observe, think, and feel.
Latin titles are taken from poetic descriptions by Anne Carson in her book Nox.