Above Every Plane and Around Every Circle uses light, sound, and paint as a meditation on transmutation and recurrence.  The gradually changing environment of the space transforms painted surfaces in the work from opaque to transparent. Each cycle of light to dark is meant to further singularize the dichotomy of the two extremes, of the earth to the heavens, of day into night.

The imagery is taken from topographic maps of the Alberta prairie near where my mother was raised.  The elegance of its wintery plains, lakes, and rivers belies a true severity - the vast isolation inherent to the place and denudation from the visual blast of sunlight on snow.

Some of my earliest memories are from here: mental images of stinging, watery eyes in bright morning sun.  In those winters the darkness at night blew, biting, past tiny specs of light, like millions of needles had punched through the firmament, leaving miniature keyholes to let slip the snow-blind glare of the heavens above.  The paradox of an infinity, just beyond real comprehension but always insistent, is water beneath ice-covered rivers, flowing inconspicuously toward the lower latitudes.