Spring in the mountains comes slowly, and the snow takes its time to recede.
High in the Blue Mountains of Southeast Washington and Northeast Oregon, a hike in the high country, without snow shoes, has to wait until June some years, depending upon the snow pack.
The air is cool, fresh, clean, beautiful, quiet. Along the saddle of the hillside, clumps of snow cling tenaciously to the grasses, and the hiker who steps off the trail steps between them.
Alpine Spring, the artwork, invites the viewer to step into the country rural wilderness, this landscape of quiet and tranquility. The intriguing thing about wilderness lands is that life goes on within them, whether we are there or not. This is something easy to forget, when we get absorbed in our “modern” lives of work and phones and office cubicles and commitments: these encroach so strongly on our lives that we begin to think that this is all there is to life.
But up in the mountains, in the landscape of Alpine Spring, life, also goes on – in its quiet, tenacious, timeless way. The insects buzz, the birds chirp, the breeze blows through the tree branches, and the little animals scurry and hurry their way about their business, trying not to be noticed by their bigger, carnivorous neighbors, some of whom soar about in the sky.
The snow melts at its own pace, unconcerned about whether or not it meets some marketing timetable or financial projection. To be part of this landscape, the visitor must acknowledge that he or she is not in charge of the area, that his words carry no commanding force, that her thoughts will not be translated into reality by a slew of subordinate office workers.
There is reassurance and beauty in knowing that nature, ultimately, cannot be bossed about, squeezed in, circumscribed or controlled.
Featured in 30 Fine Art America groups.
May 1st, 2017
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