Collection: No Horizon

No horizon is a series I began about 7 years ago.  The first serendipitous moment of inspiration occurred while driving to Arts in the Pass, the annual art festival held in Pass Christian, MS.  The festival takes place at War Memorial Park, just across the street from pristine white beaches hugging the Gulf of Mexico. This was a particularly foggy morning, so much so, that i could not see halfway out to the beach. I immediately parked along the beach and walked out to the shoreline.  The only sound was the trickling in of the lazily calm tidal swells and faintly gossiping seagulls.

When I reached the water's edge, I was completely alone.  The receding tides left the sands momentarily untarnished. It was beautiful in presence of time way.  I could not hear cars on the road, I could not see anything but sand and water and the subtlest nuances of white gray mist, both warm and cool, pinks and blues desperate to hide in the white gray mist.  At the time, I did not think I'd ever capture the moment with a photograph, but I wanted something to remember the monumental few moments that have occupied my mind hours upon hours longer than those delicate few moments.  

As I was trying to capture the essence of how I felt, photos of what peaceful might look like, a flock of migrating waterfowl passed in and out of opacity so suddenly and quietly above the water.  I was overcome with a feeling that this singular moment was a gift to me.  

I seek these moments out often now, both for inspiration, and for the sheer pleasure it brings to me absorb that moment in time and realize gifts like this are far more prevalent in our lives.  Something as simple as looking up at the stars when walking the the bin to the street, or going out in the predawn fog to sit in the garden and listen to the world wake up, even for just a few minutes.  Shutting out everything and eyes and ears narrate at liberty.