How can stones tell stories about our lives?
If you fit within these stones, where would you be? Where would you sit? Where would you walk?

Architectural Fantasy

 

I love aerial views of old hill towns. The houses flow in and out of each other, trapezoids breaking out of square grids because they have to move around their hills. Rivers make their routes through human environments and help us think back to a place once polished by glacial activity. The scale of the city pieces puts us at a great distance. We are aware of ourselves as observers of human activity and geologic time. We’re gods and children, making and crushing sand castles. The river moves past rising towers or broken ones. And us? We’re future and Anasazi, coming and going. Oregon Coast basalt cobbles are particular and they are magic. When the waves come up and pull back over them in a steep surf, the cobbles make a ringing sound. How do you capture that?

Sometimes I find myself alone, asking questions that I’ve never asked before and following them. Finding a new city to wander in. Is that city in the past, or the in the future? Has that city been abandoned or is it full of life? I like to dream of these things as I cut and imagine.