Last fall my partner and I ventured to the top of the peak that took a friend too soon. We walked with heavy hearts, not saying much, but simply observing our surroundings and looking toward the mountains. All I had in my camera that day was black and white film, something I didn't appreciate until I looked back on these photos. Before we began our descent, I asked if we could share some words about our friend. I shared and started to cry, I shut my eyes and pushed my head into his shoulder. He gently told me to look up and pointed over to the only ridgeline in the sun, a heart-shaped shadow slowly moved across the face of the ridge. We stood there and watched it until it disappeared.
Some things are just feelings without needing to be explained by words.
Over the past two years marked by loss in the mountains on numerous occasions, I've shifted between anger, sorrow, and fear. Mostly, I looked at the mountains from a distance waiting to return. These past six months have felt like a revival, a peaceful excitement to reconnect. This next step in my artistic journey comes from a shift in perspective, a new relationship with the mountains, and myself. An exploration of movement in the mountains, the same ones that have taken away and at the same time given so much.
How do I express and capture the emotions this place evokes. To study the colors, shapes, movement, and the essence of these spaces... an exploration of place, play, and gratitude. To create a collection that reflects these ever-evolving sentiments. An ode to the cascades.
As always, explore and create. In memory of Spencer.
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