Stunning colors as the sun hovers on the horizon are the manifestation of fires blazing across the West, burning drought-ridden vegetation and choking breath from humanity and wildlife. Beautiful, but deadly.
Barbed wire fencing criss-crosses Western lands, marking boundaries, but it doesn’t contain the droughts or the fires. The lines and spikes occupy my memory as far back as I can go, having grown up out here and climbed between the barbs a few times, and imagery of the fencing material has made appearances in my work frequently over the course of my career. The objects in this installation follow the continuum.