We were driving along, on the way to visit my mother-in-law. The first day of autumn and there was the slightest hint of chill in the air. Sun shining at full brightness. The world divided sharply into light and dark. The camera sat on the back seat and I had no intention of taking a picture. Relaxing in the passenger seat while my husband did the driving, windows down, thoughts drifting like clouds. In this space of ease, I began to see pictures everywhere, pulling elements into the frame, composing and pressing the shutter in my mind. “Pull-over,” I direct my husband. He complies without question, parking the car along the roadside, pulling out his book to read. He knows how to wait patiently. While I fall into the deep orange hues laid out before me.

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Reading the first chapter of The Meaning in the Making by Sean Tucker and falling in love with every word.

. . . we make because we are constantly trying to pull Order from Chaos.

. . . And we hope that those who experience what we’ve made will feel the truth of what we’ve shared resonate and hum within them as well. We might not even be able to put clearly, into descriptive prose what we’ve shared, but that’s the beauty of art; it’s not a medium that requires certainty.