When I find  myself wandering in the early evening, there is always a rhthymn that presents itself. The sky meanders from powdery blues to more thoughtful cobalts, to soulfull and meditative violets. With the transitition in light their comes the sounds of animals and insects singing a chorus to the changes.

There is a clear whirring and clanking energy to that moment. An energy that isn’t visually apparent in that instance ( I can’t afterall see the insects or animals that I hear). Instead there is a kind of beat and melody that forms, and for me finds itself in the flickery colors of the sky.

Violets sing in various tones and values. Each a signal bounced from mysterious and distant mountains, speaking like sonar about a land we haven’t quite been to yet. Its spreads out across the substrate in a series of  eyes, mouths, teeth  and tongues.  And at a certain point it starts speaking. In lines and masses, the colors start to speak of movement. Life at its most basic – constant and continual movement.

And its always in those twilight hours that I hear it most clearly.