Frozen South River

2023

Walking onto the lake feels dangerous and reckless but once firmly planted I feel the heavy structure of the thick ice below. All I can see is the sharp light from the February sun hitting a vast space of white. Looking down at my feet, I see the tracks I’ve made but not only these. I see also traces of mechanized vehicles and of animals, but most of all, traces of freezing wind. The movement of air has pushed the crystals of water to erase other traces and in the process has created an endless variety of undulations, crevices, slopes, and textures. In the blinding light, shadows allow me to find these creations that mark time. Looking closely into these formations, I find worlds framed by minuscule landscapes which feel thousands of times more immense. While I’m tempted to try to find meaning in these formations, I ultimately resigned myself to a meditative mode that takes pleasure in their arrangement and in the fact that it simply is—that I was here to witness it.