The Arboretum was almost empty, peaceful, if manicured and controlled. I glanced at carefully choreographed vistas, an appealing change from wind-swept debris orphaned by melting snow. They seemed to invite deep breaths.
I walked up a short, steep hill, following an urge to go deeper, to let go of order and find a moment of chaos in this place. I came to a clearing with decaying tree stumps and toppled branches fallen in the undergrowth.
In my urban life, I play at creating order, making things tidy, framing. That’s not the first impulse of the universe; rather it is disorder, an honest tangle. I walked around this clearing and noticed the beauty in the disorder, the order in the chaos.
That’s what I want to frame.