Traces

shadow1

The occasional journeys of Shadowman

Click on the images to follow the thread.
GenVallejoMonumentI am presently working with a group in Sonoma to create a unique historic sculpture in the Town Plaza. Find out more about it at http://recuerdosdesonoma.com



Read more about the project in Valley of the Moon magazine.

Travels in Argentina

nighttaxi1 Nighttime Taxi Ride Tango1 Tango at Bar Sur Buenos Aires Buenos Aires  

Wheeler Peak

Imagine sitting on a mountainside in the shade of a windblown tree. There are other trees around you but almost nothing uphill except bare rock. Well OK, there is some moss and some lichen on the rocks, but there are no trees or bushes. Then imagine that this tree has always been here. When the Pony Express passed this way, when whatsisname surrendered at Yorktown, when Columbus landed, when Leif and his bunch found their way to Greenland and landed, this tree was here. You know the big redwood slabs that have pins in the growth rings that indicate significant historical events? Like when Jesus was a baby? Well, when the tiny seed that became that magnificent redwood tree fell from its cone, the tree under which you are sitting was an OLD tree. When the pyramids in Egypt were built, this tree, this exact tree, was right here. There is an amazing parallax of history here in the shade of this tree. And yes, the ravens still hurl insults at eagles and the jays still squabble and the big black ants still march relentlessly up and down the amazing living being that is this tree, just as they always have. But sitting here, alone on a mountainside, with the wind rushing and tumbling through the long light of an autumn afternoon, time seems to have a huge wrinkle. The perceived importance of our human endeavors shrinks and the grace of the wild expands and fills the world. basin More thoughts on bristlecones

Washing Dishes

Looking out the window as I wash the dishes,
Contemplating the arc of time,
I see that fingernail moon
Mounted perfectly in what is now
A pastel pink and baby blue sky,
Sinking peacefully into its destiny.
Promising to return tomorrow,
When perhaps it can linger a bit longer,
Perhaps a bit larger,
And if all goes well, a bit brighter.
But for now, the best we can expect
Is a promise of peaceful darkness.