i Wonder 2023
Gazing out the window of the airplane, I trace the branching patterns of meandering rivers, the erosion on mountain slopes, like the rivers themselves, splitting into tributaries beyond even my thirty-two thousand foot vantage, my mind wants to cover more ground:
There’s more out there, I know — more patterns, more branches — and though I can see for miles from up here, the view creates more questions than it answers.
I land. The questions fade into the background of the more pressing daily grind. But questions have a way of answering themselves, even those we inadvertently push aside.
A storm passes through that week. Lightning skewers the gray sky, and that lighting is the river I saw from up above, as is the storm’s rain, streaming down the muddy sidewalk. And my questions return:
What else in nature branches? What else expands?
It becomes an obsession fueled by organic discoveries. Winter paints webs of frost along the edges of my windows. Even the individual snowflakes branch out in unrepeatable ways. I wonder how my brain allows me to wonder. What do the cells look like? How do they connect to one another?
Spring brings leaves to tree branches and moss to the surfaces in my garden. Nature makes infinite patterns and pathways.
This body of work explores the many manifestations of branching, expansion, and connection, ranging from microscopic subjects to realms more massive than our brains can fully fathom.