A Sentence, Unwritten II
Materials collected from a single linear trail in the San Gabriel Mountains arranged as encountered/read (From various species: acorns, berries, twigs, leaves, feathers, fur, bark, seeds, cones — Also: rocks, yucca fiber, forest fire charcoal, bottle cap
Strands of passage are woven through the landscapes by non-humans who find the most fluid ways to travel from here to there—accumulated years of hoof or paw prints marking the earth with interconnected pathways. These paths may later become our human trails, dirt roads, paved streets—or sometimes eventually super-highways. But if we rush through the landscape, or our cultural lives, at 65mph, will we really see where we're going? Perhaps we would choose a new direction, if we slow down and walk in the old ways—one paw in front of the other.