Masts

These things become invested with the personal, the sublime. In daylight hours they menace, Babelian in their silent and sinister imposition, beautiful yet somehow poisonous. But in the night they glow with a warm and comforting light, and play in counterpoint with stars. Though silent, they are alive, and they watch.

It becomes apparent that this is an obsession with the "soft places," where boundaries are blurred: sky and earth, water and land, space and the terrestrial. Introduction of a penetrating element to bridge the domains gives rise to the ethereal Middle, invested with a memory that cannot possibly be ours, yet resides in us nonetheless. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it was something seen from a window as a child. The experience of these places is wholly alien to our categorical structures, but familiar to our hearts.


:
Breezes
Signals
Distant jet engines
Grass
Hum
Pulse
Twilight