The sun awoke me on Sunday with an exaggerated light from the reflection on the fresh snow. I lay groggy, yet excited as I rearranged my day with this new information of clear, sunny skies. I knew the layer of snow was the perfect canvas for shadows on the floor at the bear cages, a rare opportunity that I had to capture with my lens. Impatient to begin my day I hastily pulled away from my last snuggle of coziness, disrupting the calm of the morning. The glistening outdoors pulled at my senses and tugged at my toes. I barely could wait for my roommate to gather her things before we donned our snowsuits and grabbed our ski’s. Yes, this was going to be an adventure, what better way to make art?
We slipped, glided and skied through the fresh powder in Franklin park, navigating winding wooded trails, fallen logs and protruding rocks – a true taste of the urban backcountry. The bear cages were just as I expected – pristine with no markings beyond the delicate footprints of birds.
My tripod set up, I captured the movements on the ground and walls. Movements that are barely noticed by the eye – those of shadows collaborating with the sun, marking time, marking space, creating silhouette’s of the sculptural elements around us… rusty architecture and grand trees. Eventually alone, I paced through the snow to keep warm and to keep time, creating drawings in the snow not unlike Richard Long’s lines. Fellow x-country skiers slowed and slid on by admiring the spectacle. I captured what seemed like stillness on film – but it was over two hours of the slow turn of our earth. Satisfied with my research and endeavor I skied back as the shadows continued to lengthen, downhill mostly this time, only to land hard on my bottom twice to remind me who was in charge.