“I stand on top
of our back steps and breathe the rich air–
a mother skunk with her column of kittens swills the garbage pail
She jabs her wedge-head in a cup
of sour cream, drops her ostrich tail,
and will not scare.”
-excerpt from Robert Lowell’s “Skunk Hour”
Near my home in Maine there is an abundance of places that ask one to look at the landscape (often at the ocean). The feeling of being on the precipice of some great unknowable void may in part describe what I imagine one is supposed to acknowledge at these points. But there is an odd sort of slight of hand at work in these moments. Instead of thinking about all the world’s vastness and all my smallness, I start to think about the details of my life as they are- then I move back to the wider world. In this ongoing body of work, from which these images are excerpted, I am looking at the landscape as something that is simultaneously interior and exterior- a space that is specific but exists beyond its immediate geography.