Thoughts About Vanishing

A truck rumbling away on a dusty road is like a siren’s call to me. I’ll watch that truck for as long as I can while contemplating its meaning in my world view. And when it’s gone I’ll ponder the mystery it leaves behind.

I’m drawn to exploring the mysteries inherent in things vanishing. I watch for things vanishing actively, such as the woman in “Morning Ride” as she is consumed by light, and things vanishing passively, as with the layers of ridges in “Canyon Shadows” soon to be lost in darkness. Some things vanish in a matter of moments, allowing only a fleeting glimpse, while others go so slowly that it’s hardly noticeable. In both instances there is mystery, mitigated if the vanishing is only temporary, when something is bound to reappear, or compounded, when something is gone forever, to be seen again only in dreams or photographs.