Sunday morning abstract: on the beach.
Sunday morning abstract: on the beach.
Sunday morning abstract: a memory dwelt upon evolves with the dweller, it is not fixed. This is the way of things we keep close.
Sunday morning abstract: blue fades.
Sunday morning abstract: the work isn’t always easy and nor should it be. The question is really or should really be about why the work is.
Sunday morning abstract: the light overtakes in waves. It is alright, let it pass, consume, and carry.
Sunday morning abstract: a red swath of light comes through, is it passion or a warning, or is it both?
Sunday morning abstract: a hint of blood in the emulsion.
Sunday morning abstract: there is nothing here.
Sunday morning abstract
Sunday morning abstract: ghosts dance in the emulsion.
Sunday morning abstract: a strange figure gestures from the only feature in the blue universe in which you now reside.
Sunday morning abstract: lines intersect, a face like a mask grotesque.
Sunday morning abstract: we are torn asunder. Torn from ourselves and torn from each other.
Sunday morning abstract: neglect and fade.
Sunday morning abstract: blue things.
Sunday morning abstract: we label our world by routine and reflex while we should strive to make the act conscious and considered.
Sunday morning abstract: there are always other perspectives to consider.
Sunday morning abstract
Sunday morning abstract:
Shutter error imitates constellation (it’s actually under the Gardiner Expressway).
Sunday morning abstract: back to blue