“There is a mystery that appears when walking through a neighborhood at night.”
sometimes, when it’s quiet
There is a mystery that appears when walking through a neighborhood at night. Perhaps it is the flirtation with voyeurism, windows becoming peepholes into anonymous lives. Maybe the feeling is caused by the ominous glow of street lamps, the encroaching darkness veils the unknown. Or it could be the silence that’s in the shadows, allowing the imagination to run awry, making every home a place of wonder and fear.
When it is quiet, the mind begins to wander. The stillness of the dark, the removal of distractions, opens all things suppressed during the day. Memories that had once been forgotten come drifting back. Thoughts and worries overwhelm the mind leaving an array of emotions to take over. Each home is a reality often hidden. Only in the quiet moments do we feel safe to let these emotions and thoughts escape. We are at our most vulnerable.
The yard is a transient place where private life embraces the open, where there is a chance of exposure. A home can be a transistor to the past, the present, and the future—one of dreams, aspirations and dread. A place where moments of hope or regret, loneliness or solitude are visible.
MFA Exhibition | Harry Wood Gallery, Arizona State University | Tempe, Arizona | May 25, 2017
