Shadows and Shapes

I do have an appetite for the abstract—especially when the abstraction is rooted in something tangible, or at least explainable through reason. A path of light suggesting movement through an obscured scene will always catch my attention, so long as that path is graceful and its source something I can identify and later recall.

I do have an appetite for the abstract—especially when the abstraction is rooted in something tangible, or at least explainable through reason. A path of light suggesting movement through an obscured scene will always catch my attention, so long as that path is graceful and its source something I can identify and later recall.

I recognize this as a limitation of sorts, but it’s one I gladly accept. A fork and its shadow, the dappled shade cast by an elm on a cobblestone street in Paris or Buenos Aires, the ripples in a fountain where a poet once washed his tears—all of these, for better or worse, find their place in this collection, justified by the stories they suggest and the memories they evoke.