At the Edge of the Orchard, 2017, Archival Digital Print
The silence of fog is reassuring unless you are at the wheel driving on the road. On the land it mutes sound and color and offers a dreaminess of expectation or dread given the observer’s condition. Who will walk out of this ectoplasm toward us? What is there unseen but felt? A ghost or an old friend, a past lover or a hideous monster?