Melt Water

Long before forests took root and familiar shorelines emerged, Vancouver Island lay beneath the Cordilleran Ice Sheet. Meltwater begins in that ancient landscape. Pale mineral greens and glacial whites recall ice holding stone, air, and time, while copper lines trace the earth and warmth revealed as the ice withdrew. The collection is not about coldness. It is about transformation: what pressure shapes, what retreat uncovers, and how a landscape can emerge changed while still carrying the memory of what formed it.

At its heart: the quiet transformation that begins when an old weight starts to lift.

I am drawn to the idea that the retreat of the ice was not simply a disappearance. It was a revelation. The landscape beneath it had been shaped by pressure, movement, and time. When the weight lifted, what emerged was not the land as it had been before. It was something newly formed, carrying the evidence of everything that had shaped it.

There are times in our own lives when we carry responsibilities, expectations, or versions of ourselves for so long that they begin to feel permanent. Change rarely arrives all at once. Sometimes it begins quietly beneath the surface, with the first small movement toward release. Meltwater reflects that transition. It is not about abandoning the past. It is about allowing what has shaped us to become part of the landscape without continuing to hold us in place.