STATEMENT:

 

There is an old saying I heard from my father;

“Red sky at night, sailors delight.  Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.”  

 

I think about this adage whenever I see a sunrise or sunset holding true forms of reds, oranges and pinks.  I even think about what other colors could mean.  From purples, yellows and greens, and any shade showing a gradient shift so smooth from one to another.  These other colors are warnings.  Warnings to man that go unnoticed or unchecked.

 

A low-pressure system rolls in and turns a clear sky into a sky full of opportunity and monstrous cumulonimbus clouds. The sky is freeform and performative.  She calls to all who can see her pushing clouds like hair as the wind embraces and dances across our bodies, our cities and fields. The atmosphere above is open and freeing, and has the enticing allure of possibility.  The sublime symphonies she composes inspires, evokes fear, and cures depression.  It fuels daydreams and night wishes.  She pulls emotions out of you when foggy grey mornings clear and shines beams of light into your dawn’s darkness.  The perspective she brings with her echoes truth about our natural being, and the way mother nature can be communicative.

 

There is enormity, and a sense of childlike wonder that comes with the sky above. Nature is teaching us the understanding of change.  With raw natural change there is no inherently good or bad.  Storms bring rain and possibility of growth and rebirth while at the same time can cause massive devastation all based on the enormity of the situation. The everyday weather teaches lessons about the inevitability of chaos and accepting how life can move so fluidly and just.  But, an overall look at climate lets us understand that things are always changing on different cycles with an ebb and flow.  You cannot expect the same cloud to be on the horizon by the end of the day that you saw in the morning, but you can expect to see a cloud again in your lifetime.  Here in our reality, there is constant change, which sounds like an oxymoron, but we know it to be so.  There is chaos and sublime, and there is truth to it.

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