The Mist

The mist was as much a part of the mountain as the rocks and the forests. When it came, everything changed. It was as if the mountain was quietly revealing a different side of itself.

 Familiar roads became unfamiliar. The rocks seemed larger, the forests deeper, and the silence even more profound. 

Sometimes it was so dense that the world beyond a few yards simply disappeared. It isolated you from everything beyond itself, asking you to trust what you could not yet see and to move carefully through the unknown. 

Looking back, I realize the mist taught me more than I understood at the time. It shaped the way I see the world.

For me, beauty lives in what is only partially revealed. Mystery invites us to look more carefully, and silence holds far more than certainty ever could.

My work is guided by this. Forms emerge gradually. Surfaces invite closer attention, Silence often says more than explanation ever could.