When I was working on this shadowbox, painting leaves and grasses and hair, I realized I don’t think much about wind unless I’m in it We get some wild, gusty days along the central coast of California. Palm trees whip and drop husks anywhere they want and those things can do damage. It’s hard to ignore the wind on days like that.
But I can forget how many moments, small and shadowy and romantic in my memory, only made it there because of the wind. The wind brought them to life.
I’ll think of the leaves of great old trees that make canopies over street cafes. I’ll think of walks along the coast of Norfolk, England and an April in Paris when I spent most of my time snuggled into my coat’s collar and looking for hot chocolate, which is a fantastic thing to look for when it’s cold and windy in Paris. I’ll think of driving on gravel roads in the Iowa summer until there’s a meadow that has to be walked in.
I like thinking of the wind this way. I like thinking how it only announces itself by moving things that might prefer to sit still. I hope I captured some of that in this box.