Geologic Recollections

Standing in a landscape, I find my mind wandering between here and there. Geologic Recollections marks the origin for the term geoempathy: the combination of geologic and empathetical. To be caught off guard by a fissure, surface, or terrain that has a sense of déjà vu or that evokes an emotional response is to experience geoempathy. It is this jolt of recognition within a now personified landscape that provokes a sense of self from an otherwise impartial terrain.

Created from a larger, ongoing archive, Geologic Recollections focuses on recollection and geoempathy. This book accentuates the collapse of multiple sites into a singular, figurative landscape that is neither here nor there. Instead, it is a nostalgic topography. Writing accompanies the photographs to provide readers with vignettes of the original site. Individual photographs are not named, for to do so would divide the recalled anywhere into a site specific somewhere.

This book is a self-published artist book produced in an edition of 15. Please contact for purchase inquiries.

  Cover for Geologic Recollections  | Self-Published Artist Book, Edition of 15 | August 2018

Cover for Geologic Recollections | Self-Published Artist Book, Edition of 15 | August 2018

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Tall grasses and wildflowers bloom across the field. Their length is reminiscent of summer nights spent stargazing and the impression of a whim left under the Milky Way. Overgrown hedges edge the pasture. never mind the stonewall kept cool in the shadows of undergrowth. 

There is Orion’s belt above the tree line. Here is the summer breeze as it dances under moonlight.

Past and present combine in recollections.

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The world left entangled in itself, ensnared in the aftermath debris. Roots are uncovered in sections: the earth made bare. An ode to the flooded riverbed. The river’s current ripples the reflections, a continuous movement in a landscape overtaken with calm. Arched branches are weighed down and buried in the sand. 

Are they still ensnared, the remaining evidence of the passing storm? Do the roots remember holding onto the river’s edge?

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Thin stems bounce to and fro, excited by the most delicate of gusts. There, they thrived in handfuls along the dirt road’s edge. Here, daisies have clustered along traveled paths. Petals unfurled from their conical center only to wink downward as the blossoms fade. Black-eyed Susan’s picked by the handful to fill jars on windowsills. 

Petals left behind long after are swept away here, blown away there: A whirl of memory as two spaces are combined.

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Barbed wire snags the trunk and the rock snags the fallen tree. Encircling, up and around, jutting out, supporting, within, without. A burl parts just above the hollow. The roots are bleached by the sun and needles nest inside exposed cavities. Moss may grow on the north side of trees, but lichen has no preference on an igneous surface. The ensnared tree is indifferent, too, as the barbs sink within the bark each year. 

How long has it been since the tree fell, since the rock beneath heard its sound? 

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Logs covered in fungi found broken apart and strewn along the path leading to the satellite tower covered hilltop. Segments of a larger whole: a unit of measurement alluding to what once was. Bark is the perfect host to what grows above and crawls beneath. Vegetation grows over the memory of a cool breeze on an autumn day. 

The recollections remain beneath a blanket of leaves, claimed by the forest floor. 

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Time hollows out the river’s edge and makes way for new life. Roots take hold. The current is an eternal return, pausing to pool in the curve of a protruding rock. Its hidden depths tumble stones till they are rounded and modest enough to be caught up and carried downstream. Restless, they are never here and always heading there. 

The curve, the burl, are voids perpetually emptied. The absence felt in the hollows of time is past and present reconciling for a quiet moment of reflection.