If I were horizontal, I would spread long and low. I would be out of the fray and would never have to duck. I would always see the sky whole and I would always see the sky whole and the length of my body would be stitched to the earth, to dirt. If I were horizontal, the sun would rise on my left side, heating my mid-section first then spreading to head and feet as it slowly arched over my body. In the end I would feel the sun vanish slowly from my right side, blushing my skin yellow crimson. In-between sunrise and set, I would busy myself watching patterns of shifting leaves as they let sun and sky wink through. I would track large winged birds riding waves of air high over head, then be distracted by the songs of small birds perched near by. I would feel the rhythm of hoof beats as startled deer run away from a clearing. I would gather information through my body and my mind would rest. 11.28.2011
I would was born of a desire to be with the big sky and long horizons of the prairie. The horizon line established in the stitched drawings is that of the 12 windows in my Two Dot, MT studio. The line is made with definitions of the word horizon written in my own typeface, which includes only the horizontals of the Roman alphabet.