Where do I end; where do I begin?

A few years ago, I visited my birthplace. Sitting there, my bones seemed to know they were home. This seemed impossible to my rational mind but I knew it beyond doubt.

 

Later, living near feral chickens, I watched wave after wave of chicks emerge, converted from soil to grass to insect to chicken. Our bodies are the same. We appear as ourselves but we are made of atoms formed in supernovas and recycled in water and soil and other living beings.

 

Could it be that the atoms in my bones felt a sense of resonance and recognition with the atoms of a place?

 

The sand and water and air in my photographs represent the fluidity and impermanence that we embody and the interconnectedness of all things. We spin up out of earth, air, and water, coded by DNA...and then we return.  Like a water spout, we take form and then dissipate.   And we ask, or perhaps we are asked, where do we end and where do we begin?

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