Song of Myself, 51

The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?

Walt Whitman

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A single oak tree photograph for this collection, which is suspended in transparent resin on top of charcoal on paper.

The charcoal was made from small seasoned pieces of the oak tree.

The oak tree fell during Storm Katy in 2016. The photographs were taken between 2013-2016. The charcoal was made in 2018.

There's a sense of the cyclical nature of events with the use of these materials. One that is unfolding in the making of the story of the oak tree.