Here in the Pacific Northwest, clouds are a fact of life. This ubiquity​ has drifted into my artwork.

 

I think of cloud as the home realm of these nature spirits.

Cloud is the waypoint, the threshold between form and formlessness, the known and the unknown. Between the enfolded and unfolded.

Cloud is nature’s ghost: here and not here. Amorphous. At times seemingly still, yet always moving.

Cloud is the threshold across which potential unfurls.