Jon Lance Bacon
Art may represent the imposition of order on random experience, but I try to capture moments when everything falls into place – and the world seems to have an order of its own. Whether this makes me a neoclassicist or a transcendentalist, I’m not entirely sure. I just know I’m inspired by the interplay of human activity and natural form.
In 100 words. Not one word more, not one word less—
Shadows stretch across the dune—meeting the body prone in shifting sand and shifting atom—forming patterns like the chevrons on ancient pottery—or the belly of the writhing serpent leaving its trail on the skin of earth—moving between land and water—between what was and will be. Bodies and shadow bodies eating their own tails—primordial unity. Which is real—the atom or its orbit—the coming or the going—this side of the dune or the side beyond vision—stretching against the horizon—dissolving into that which is beyond holding—reaching for the vast and unknowable sea.