A zigzag is what indecision looks like once it stops moving.
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500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Terra scolpita series · 18 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 090 of 100.
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Every Sunday afternoon for fifteen years you walked the same route. You did not decide each Sunday to walk it. You walked it because last Sunday you had. The pattern got laid down without anybody planning it. The same is true of most paths. The road that snakes up a mountain was a footpath before it was a road, and the footpath was the place a few people happened to put their feet, week after week, until the rock noticed.
A ridge cuts the late light into bright triangles. The light has come at it from the east for a hundred million mornings. The shadows it makes today are the same shadows it made yesterday, and they are not the same shadows at all.
A natural fit for A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson, The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane, or any book read with attention to patterns laid down without a plan.
There are places on the planet where the land has been carved so finely that it looks like the work of a sculptor who did not know when to stop. Water did most of it. Wind did the rest. The result is a landscape that reads like a written text, with ridges as sentences and ravines as paragraphs, and the only thing missing is the patience to read it. The land has been doing this for millions of years, in plain sight, with no audience required.
