The walk to anything good takes longer than you remember.
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500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Printemps series · 14 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 068 of 100.
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The first time, somebody else takes you. They know the way. You walk for what feels like an hour and might be twenty minutes, you turn off the main path twice without being told why, and at some point you walk through a stand of dry shrub that closes behind you, and there it is. Water in a place you would not have predicted. Cold, clear, fed by something underground that has been doing this longer than anything you know about. Years later you take somebody else. The walk is shorter than you remembered. The water is the same.
The pool sits below a red sandstone mountain in the Middle East, fed by water that comes out of rock at the same temperature year-round. Two stones break the still surface. Most of the year nobody comes here. In spring the locals do.
Reads alongside The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, or any book that ends where it started but you are different.
Spring rarely arrives on a date. It comes back in pieces. A morning that is warmer than the one before it. A bud you noticed yesterday that has opened today. Light at five in the afternoon that did not exist last week. Something coming out of the earth that has been deciding when to do this since November. The change is small and constant, and the only way to see it is to be paying attention.
