Some mornings the coast starts grey, folded into itself, sky and water with no line between them. Other mornings there's no fog at all, just clear light from the first hour. September on this coast doesn't pick one. It holds all of it, often in the same week.
When the fog does lift, it happens fast. Grey gives way to the clearest, stillest light of the year, warmer than August ever gets. Locals call it second summer. It's brief, and it only comes after the fog has had its say.
The work in this show moves through all of it. Watercolor soft at the edges, the way morning is soft before the sun burns through. Resin curing from cloudy to clear, the way the sky does by noon, on the days it does at all. Paint built in layers, some visible only once you're close enough to look, some staying half hidden no matter how long you stand there. Stitched fiber, patient and slow, present through the whole build. Stone and metal, already resolved, holding steady against everything still deciding what it wants to be.
Some days it clears. Some days it doesn't. Either way, this is what the coast looks like while it's making up its mind.
