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150Broom Forkmoss
The boundary layer is where earth and atmosphere meet. A microenvironment where a moss grows. A thin enveloping layer, where things feel different from the atmosphere belonging to taller beings, walking beings, faster beings.
When you lie on the grass, or sand, or concrete, and the wind seems to disappear, and time seems to slow down, you are visiting the boundary layer of the Earth’s surface. You are a guest in the microenvironment of our most ancient land plant. More than a guest. You become part of the Earth’s surface and make your own temporary boundary layer.
Wind slows down. Time slows down. Thoughts slow down. It’s hard to feel anger or hate in the boundary layer. New thoughts come in. Slow thoughts. Pre-historic thoughts. Better thoughts. Moss thoughts.Broom Forkmoss
The boundary layer is where earth and atmosphere meet. A microenvironment where a moss grows. A thin enveloping layer, where things feel different from the atmosphere belonging to taller beings, walking beings, faster beings.
When you lie on the grass, or sand, or concrete, and the wind seems to disappear, and time seems to slow down, you are visiting the boundary layer of the Earth’s surface. You are a guest in the microenvironment of our most ancient land plant. More than a guest. You become part of the Earth’s surface and make your own temporary boundary layer.
Wind slows down. Time slows down. Thoughts slow down. It’s hard to feel anger or hate in the boundary layer. New thoughts come in. Slow thoughts. Pre-historic thoughts. Better thoughts. Moss thoughts. -
149Star MossStar Moss -
148MARILYN MONROE
VIOLA TRICOLOUR
INGRES’ LA SOURCEMARILYN MONROE
VIOLA TRICOLOUR
INGRES’ LA SOURCE -
147Life as a wallflowerLife as a wallflower -
146MY OFFICE
EVERYONE WELCOMEMY OFFICE
EVERYONE WELCOME -
145 -
144Hole...
Brooch/Object. Blackened Silver, Brass, Titanium.Hole...
Brooch/Object. Blackened Silver, Brass, Titanium. -
143Hole...Hole... -
142Hole...
There’s a photo I found of a woman’s hand outstretched through a broken pane of glass. I thought about that photo a lot, so I started drawing it. Sometimes it looks like the hand is waving. Sometimes it looks like the hand is drowning. I thought of Stevie Smith’s poem, Not Waving But Drowning. Look it up.Hole...
There’s a photo I found of a woman’s hand outstretched through a broken pane of glass. I thought about that photo a lot, so I started drawing it. Sometimes it looks like the hand is waving. Sometimes it looks like the hand is drowning. I thought of Stevie Smith’s poem, Not Waving But Drowning. Look it up.