THE DAY WE DIE
The day we die / the wind comes down / to take away our footprints.
The wind makes dust / to cover up / the marks we left / while walking.
For otherwise / the thing would seem / as if we were / still living.
Therefore the wind / is he who comes / to blow away / our footprints.
—Southern Bushmen song
Summer in the Arctic Ocean, land of the Midnight sun. We are in a snow- and ice-covered fjord... (read more)
See the companion work: Frazil: New Ice Forming
Ink and pigment drawings on sheets of handmade Khadi paper fragments joined loosely as groupings of 2, 3 or 4, the way the ice floes themselves are geometrical fragments floating on the sea. I draw with an ink laden brush in varying tones also draw with a mixture of stainless steel acrylic paint and pearlescent powdered pigment.