Before the Breath of Storm
“Before the breath of storm.
While yet the long, bright afternoons are warm,
Under this stainless arch of azure sky
The air is filled with gathering wings for flight;
Yet with the shrill mirth and the loud delight
Comes the foreboding sorrow of this cry—
”Till the storm scatter and the gloom dispel,
Farewell! Farewell!
Farewell!””
The storm outside echoes the storm within, each cloud a reflection of my internal dialogue. Entering into this year’s monsoon season coincided with a personal period of weary tumult–unacknowledged realizations, looming fears, and an unrelenting cycle of buried guilt and grief. These feelings lingered in the periphery, hidden by distractions and busyness. All the while poised at the precipice, waiting for a means to spill into the consciousness.
I find a certain ennui in the cyclical nature in processing and releasing these restrained emotions. They come in like a tempest one after another as they need to be released. They demand to be acknowledged, yet I carry their weight—unnecessary burdens, preoccupation, and a quiet shame—while waiting for permission and an excuse to downpour.
Clouds through your window is a continuation of the embracement of allowing these emotions and thoughts to enter: to process, to sit with, to struggle, to question, and to accept all the discomfort they bring. As the monsoon season has since waned, summer’s oppressive heat fades. The once harsh light now begins to soften, as do the burdens it bears, allowing pause for quiet reflection.
—Cam DeCaussin
clouds through your window
Opening Reception
Thursday, November 21, 2024 | 6-9pm
7077 E Main St Suite 6, Scottsdale, AZ 85251