April 2010
1 post
The jungle writhes nervously with the interplay of the cycles of the elements. An old telephone perches on the lowest branch of a gnarled oak, waves of meaning flowing from the centers of the balanced plastic bowls.
Ever without context, we feel the pull of their history like a weighted diver feels the current. We immerse ourselves, feeling the swell pull our collective core into a gradual...
June 2009
4 posts
