This work began with a photograph I took by chance. Ripples spread across a quiet lake, and for a brief moment, fish appeared beneath the surface. Then the water settled again, calm and closed. But the feeling remained.
For me, the passage from spring into summer is a season of effort. It is when what we have been holding inside begins to move outward. The threads are not only silk. They carry patience, repetition, hope, and the quiet persistence of daily work. We release them without certainty, trusting that time will receive them.
Beneath the drifting lines, the fish move in flashes, like results forming somewhere beyond sight. So much of what we grow in life develops invisibly. Sometimes we see only a glimpse, just enough to continue.
Releasing a thread is an act of trust.
Trust in time.
Trust in distance.
Trust that unseen processes are still unfolding.
Trust in time.
Trust in distance.
Trust that unseen processes are still unfolding.
Seasons turn.
I hold onto the belief that when winter passes, when spring returns again, the net shaped by all these scattered threads will come back to us, carrying the quiet weight of who we have become.
