How do I convey my experiences with all of my senses, not just eyesight. How do I stop my own projection in order to become a more perfect vessel for my surroundings to fill, then radiate out of me.
Rock formations rise above me like church steeples. Creeks crash down the mountains. Small tributaries fall into rivers, then sink into the porous igneous rock. The high summer sun sees all and sears bare skin. Immigrant Pioneers brought immigrant Deseret to the High Desert. Soon they sold out to a capitalistic culture. The divine fell away and monuments to money rose.
I look to reject their mutilated ideology. I look to discover true harmony with my environment. I see the beginning to this adventure in the bones of the animals which once roamed Idaho, expressionistic representations of the landscape, and bold geometric design based off of naturally occurring forms.