Winter Breaths within Fifty Miles
During the winter of 2023, I kept returning to these spaces within roughly a fifty-mile radius north of Boston, Massachusetts. Over time, the series began to develop alongside a poem I wrote during those days, which still accompanies the work. There are winters when the air feels scarce, and everything turns heavier, darker. In that density, I would step outward, seeking open spaces where nature draws near and invites me to breathe again. Noise fades. Light returns. Something in me settles. The images reflect this transition—from enclosed, gray spaces to more open, luminous ones—and slowly suggest that what I was searching for outside was already, in some way, within me.
I breathe in winter
today I see the sky, and it is small
around me, the path is unknown
I seek spaces within fifty miles
where the cold air seeps in and fills me
I breathe in winter
today I step out from the center of the external
I go, return, advance, retreat
I seek a bridge to the center of what is certain
where the cold air is freed and speaks to me
I breathe in winter
today I contemplate other places
around me, I see familiar settings
I seek that space of calm stillness
where the cold air spreads and embraces me
I breathe in winter
today I enter the original space, the mother of all
I find in her arms the path to what is inner
where the cold air warms me and reminds me
that it was never just outside