The sky is like the mind. Clouds, like thoughts, float by, form structures, then break apart and disappear.
I grew up in a landscape completely dominated by the sky and all it's capricious moods. The power of the sky ranged from sunrises that were so serene that there seemed to be a ringing sound associated with the colors to tumultuous storms that produced excitement, fear of death, then rejoicing glory – all within about 15 minutes. The unpredictability of the sky along with the constant pressure of the wind made me strong and at the same time made me aware of my fragility. So I look to the sky a lot, though where I live now, there is precious little of it to see! Surrounded by towering evergreens, the horizon is unavailable and the little patch of blue sky between trees is so often obscured by gray cloud cover. This series is partly about my need to just see the sky but it refers, also, to searching for spaciousness and the perspective from which to recognize things in their true proportion – like standing alone in a featureless plane watching clouds build to extreme heights, throw fits of rain and wind, glow with sunset colors, then disappear in the distant darkness.