Woodprints

Planks cut out of a lightly rotten pear tree. Time has shaped them. The tree grew, bore fruit. Fallen, it lay on the grass for a few years. The worms did their part. Everything is in the process of change. Is it not impermanence itself that tells us most clearly about permanence? The old pear planks, the colour gradients and the Japan paper now narrate about evanescence and eternity.

Transience meets Ethernety