Photographing of rock leads
to the painting of pictures

We cannot hide from ourselves; or rather, we end up revealed to ourselves, unfolded, by the physical world which surrounds us. From China to Panama, New York to New Zealand, and the beaches, bluffs, and stone walls which permeate the West Coast of British Columbia, our humanity springs out from shapes and lines written in rock and stone. We often use these rocks and stones as metaphors of toughness, resilience, immutability, impermeability. But taken for themselves they are works in progress, more symbols of slow but inevitable mutability than ends in themselves. They are works in stone but not set in stone.

It’s in our natures to see faces peaking out at us in architecture, people made and otherwise, that channels and guides us through our movements in the world. But to catch the thought behind the face, the motive in the fleeting look, the soul in the unmarked likeness that catches the eye and begs pause, is a realization of the emotive potential of the mundane landscapes we regularly encounter. The shadows, contours and textures of stone reveal personalities, even drama. By drawing on a deep-seated human instinct to see faces like ours in the intricate geometry of nature, we have a new way to frame the conversation between human expression and our inexorable tie to the forces which ultimately allowed us to be.

The process of developing these emotive characters extends from eyes to dark room and eventually to canvas. The end result does not instantly recall the beauty of rocks and stone; but the characters uncovered, their joys and troubles, secret smiles and withdrawn countenances, are all deeply rooted in the land which made them, and in the sunlight and shadows which carve out our perceptions.