The World and Everything In It
Southwest, Tasmania.
January 2021
The mist closes, and the mist lifts. The ranges roll forever. The complex ecology beneath my feet, the abrupt fall to my waist through the snow blanket, the muddy pad, the loose shale, the confusion of scrub in my face, the wresting free and the scant next steps to crest the ridge to find the world and everything in it laid out wonderous—otherwise obscured in clag and belting ice through flesh, otherwise bleached in ozone and ultraviolet sucking juice from veins, body and mind collapsed and raised up by something essential—the next step, the faithless ground bearing no care, the incomprehensible order amid the awesome.
Photography falls short. Scale is lost. Reverence eludes the lens. The analytic play of light on sensor, stretching shadows over terrain, an approximation of presence resolving a hint of the wild.
A record then of the something else that pulls from memory and hits toward feeling. The world, and everything in it.
