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Riparian Work Artist’s Statement
It is about 150 steps north from my front door to the river, another couple hundred across the gravel, silt and sand to the other side. Here small banks rise, the plant life flourishes, or its dry leaves, stalks and limbs remind me that it will once again, come warmer weather. I walk this river in New Mexico's magic hour, and during the day, under bright or cloudy skies, or, camera well protected, in the occasional rain and even less frequent snow.
I see at the edges of the waters’ way dense, competitive growth, or the desiccated vestiges of life; even in death continuing to demand space almost as urgently as that which has just broken through the soil.
This environment, so calm and peaceful on a late summer’s eve, is one of near constant flux, scorched by the sun, chilled under clear night skies, racked by the winds, occasionally torn by seasonal flood waters. Over eons, perhaps at the same pace the mountains are wearing to the sand and stones of the river bed, all lives here have learned to more or less safely abide as neighbors. Many of the varieties present, despite diversity in color, size and reproduction, seem to share similar patterns of structure, and an almost identical density of form.
I began walking the river in the fall of 2001. Both of my dogs were still alive; they and an insistent friend encouraged me to take a break, to do the right thing. Bringing a camera encouraged me to be visually aware, and thus very present.
I am struck by the beauty, intensity and persistence of the riparian environment. I am impressed by its independence from what goes on in my personal world. Some lives along the river are perhaps individually short, but as a whole, they dwell in an eternity as uncaring as that of the sky or seas, and in time well beyond my measure. Above all, I am moved by the manner in which all elements agree to exist together, and the comfort I draw from their space.
I continue my work not to investigate my relationship with this natural environment; but rather as the affirming discovery of my place in Creation. I find good company here.
I see at the edges of the waters’ way dense, competitive growth, or the desiccated vestiges of life; even in death continuing to demand space almost as urgently as that which has just broken through the soil.
This environment, so calm and peaceful on a late summer’s eve, is one of near constant flux, scorched by the sun, chilled under clear night skies, racked by the winds, occasionally torn by seasonal flood waters. Over eons, perhaps at the same pace the mountains are wearing to the sand and stones of the river bed, all lives here have learned to more or less safely abide as neighbors. Many of the varieties present, despite diversity in color, size and reproduction, seem to share similar patterns of structure, and an almost identical density of form.
I began walking the river in the fall of 2001. Both of my dogs were still alive; they and an insistent friend encouraged me to take a break, to do the right thing. Bringing a camera encouraged me to be visually aware, and thus very present.
I am struck by the beauty, intensity and persistence of the riparian environment. I am impressed by its independence from what goes on in my personal world. Some lives along the river are perhaps individually short, but as a whole, they dwell in an eternity as uncaring as that of the sky or seas, and in time well beyond my measure. Above all, I am moved by the manner in which all elements agree to exist together, and the comfort I draw from their space.
I continue my work not to investigate my relationship with this natural environment; but rather as the affirming discovery of my place in Creation. I find good company here.