I have spent many hours, over many years, closely observing and meditating on the striations that surround my summer home. I have become fascinated by their geometry and the additional shapes created by case shadows that change and turn depending on my vantage point and the sun's positions. The outward shapes change, but the underlying strict remains the same. In all that changes, what remains unchanged? Can anything endure as time continues its steady attack on any notion of permanence?
As I repeatedly draw and redraw these same structures, I seek out the subtle relationships between shapes. Sometimes I see new shapes and I am amazed that I never noticed them before. The lines that bound the shapes will ship depending on my point of view, but the fact that they always lie connected on these same plane insures their innate relationship: a triangle remains a triangle even when I can't see it. Sometimes I draw the shapes I know are there then adjust them and leave the trace of my thought process as I move and ship in and out of the space of the canvas, always hoping to discover something previously unseen or un-thought of.
As I continue to sit and gaze at these structures, they transition back to the homes of the neighbors. I am overwhelmed by how many lives have passed on through this small community during my thirty years of living here. Yet I am aware that my memory is only a small fraction of the collective memory of my neighbors. Eventually all memory of us and these structures will be erased by time and rising tides. Sometimes I feel them disappearing beneath my hand as I search to capture their fleeting essence.