I dreamed these scenes when the dawn rises over misty mountaintops. Peaks surging in the midst of cloudbanks. Trees materialising like sentinels sketched with delicate, minimalist brushstrokes. Rocks fading out for a few seconds, only to resurface more clearly in the swirling plumes of vapour. My surroundings and I are inspired.
The opposite of evanescence, emergence is akin to an awakening, a natural phenomenon becoming visible after being concealed. As though the soul of raw elements is suddenly bursting forth. Forgotten, vanished, they unexpectedly reappear by the grace of a waning mist, a wisp of whimsical light, some visual amnesia that fortunately is only temporary. A poetic hide-and-seek where nothing, ever, is immutable. A mineral phantom who feigns retreat, the better to startle me moments later amidst a constantly changing décor. Like at the theatre. Nature’s theatre.