My attraction to satellite images began as an escapist desire. From my computer screen I can see seemingly otherworldly places. They are expansive landscapes, free-floating, full of depth, with no horizon. At times I find myself disoriented and so begin to search for human presence, perhaps as an anchor. What began as a desire to escape into beauty eventually led to a desire for the familiar. In the terrain I can identify a city, farmland, see massive clouds of smog, or glaciers receding. Human presence is undeniable and the consequence of our presence is emotionally overwhelming.
Viewing the earth at this certain distance creates an odd sense of knowing. It is a strange place where objectivity and sentiment meet. Glass is the perfect material to portray this ineffable feeling. It has an ethereal beauty that evokes transcendence. It is visually fluid, seeming to be in the process of appearing or disappearing. These qualities are also found in the satellite images on which I choose to focus. The images are of transformative events and are evidence of the changes occurring on our planet. I am interested in how we experience seeing these events. We are no longer gazing out at a pristine landscape. We are in the landscape and of the landscape. We are groundless, in transition, and bearing witness to slow extinction of the world we know.