Friday, January 27, 2012
For several days in January and December the morning sky has been dramatic and turbulent. Dark silhouettes, the trees stand as sentinels while the dawn creates a pattern of pink streaks across the horizon. Not the soft pink of little girls' dresses, but the violent pink of a world startled, abruptly awakened by its hot master. For one moment, the world is drawn in perfect sharp lines. Then gradually the turbulent sky melts into a pastel ice cream dream. Ambiguity, fluidity, compromise; and the day begins.