I require a limited boundary to propel my search for an image. Each series is derived from a memory supported by my Diana Camera or digital photographs or other historical landscape paintings. This is a methodology that requires internalization rather than immediate response. Ideally, seeing is slowed down, and the unique nature of each image becomes all the more noticeable.
Making drawings through the windowpane of memory may soften the edges, but I am constantly aware of the tightrope between sentimentality and structure. We remember some things, forget others, and that which is important to us nudges forward. For me, the intrigue begins with the horizon, that distant point where the ephemeral caresses solidity. Time of day is likewise essential. I am absorbed not only by the ambiance of dawn and dusk, but the subliminal emotional associations in beginning or ending another day.
The equilateral element of a square implies containment, a singular intimate space rather than an extended scene, reinforcing the personal moment of memory. Not a vista, these explorations of space and time through the landscape are analogous to an object with a human scale, the width of your open hand or the space between your ears.
Realistically, the wonderment and spirituality of sky, weather and land are basic notions earnestly experienced and thus fully remembered in my mid-western bones. I cannot escape them.