My eye is drawn to pattern. But it is the flaw or abnormality that makes it truly interesting. In theory, tire tracks in the sand should be ordered, regular; I like how the tracks don’t hold. The relative strength or weakness of the impressions. The mild disturbances. The parts that are missing. There is so much to see (even when there is nothing to see).
142/365: sand tracks
Snow serves as winter’s record-keeper. No movement goes untracked. This section of the creek mapped the intersections of raccoon rush hour and the sun’s low-angled journey across the afternoon sky.
22/365: tracks & shadows
A late-winter portrait of the collective psyche (or is it just me?): salty, cracked, and showing definite signs of wear…
52/365: salt tracks and pavement cracks
Nothing can sneak around when there is snow on the ground – not even the shadows. The snow makes a memento of every footstep, records every fallen stick, reveals the passage of time. Every mark shows signs of movement, while the wild horse stands still as a statue, only effecting to block out the sun.
34/365: wild horse in the snow