As I spent time at the Great Salt Lake, I felt myself being drawn to the vast, open landscape sometimes referred to as “America’s Dead Sea”. Perhaps the landscape mirrored my own in-between state of existence. My repetitious engagements with the landscape became ritualistic performances I began to document with my camera stationed on a tripod. The images recorded by the camera became documentation of movement over time that I wished to show in a single photograph. The panoramic photographs are composited of more than thirty images layered together to create a single image that represents a map of time.
Throughout my journey, I found myself learning how to be comfortable in liminal spaces. It is in these spaces where we are most teachable. My original desire was to overcome the opposition and darkness I was facing. However, through my ritualistic process, I discovered the power of standing still on the threshold between two spaces. In the end, my journey taught me how to find my own geographical stillness within myself. A peace that resides within that we can return to when the ground under our feet is ever moving.
Just as the sun rises and sets each day, we repetitiously engage in ritualistic practices to seek transformation. Viewing an image of motion is to experience a duration of time invisible to the unaided eye.
The bodies we house can be resilient to the weathering winds that surround us, unless we become subjects of constant confrontation. Under attack, our bodies and souls seek protection and preservation. At times, life can seem a blur as we move across the surface of the earth. Beneath a veil of opposition, we are hidden from the light which is our life source. We mechanically move through liminal spaces, trusting that the light of self-knowledge will be revealed to us. As we stay in motion, we repeat ourselves season after season, but we are never the same.