Sunday, 26 June 2011


We left the hospital to walk through the forest in the heavy rainfall; the kind that pelts your skin. Two blue gowns frolicking in the muddy deep green, sensations fully awakened after the sterility of the ward. Our hair dripped with cool water, blue patient gowns soaked through. Upon returning to my room, I stripped myself of wet cloth, and began drawing this moment from memory.
For days I lived inside that illustration, there was a world that was created, and with every graphite stroke raindrop it became more of a home.


afternoons residing flowers


A little creeping light
creeps about in the night

hunts in the huge dark
a little room for a spark

the dark is without surprise
it knows by a thousands eyes

eyes without body or breath
and always there, like death

watching the upstart light
hunt its place in the night


“A Little Light”
- George Johnston 

Tee Harbor / Summer 2010

Dusk's ominous transforming clouds approached to announce the adjoining storm. To the steady crash crash crashing of the late tide, and read aloud Moomin tales. I crossed to the peninsulas opposite side to witness cloud forms of a dead man laying on his side. Then stayed up all night watching the lighting fizzle inside electric plumes. Ive noticed when there is possibility of storms, the clouds have appeared as horrific things, like ghost tall ships, and skeletal horses. Its as if they are apart of a traveling realm. The central cloud in this photo was reminiscent a scythe chopping through the sky toward us.