The In-Between

I saw ghost pipes for the first time this year, and they whispered to me—soft, insistent. Paint us, they said. So here they are, emerging from the shadows beneath a moonlit sky, quiet but powerful.

A crow perches on a tree limb that seems to grow straight out of the moon, like it's part of some otherworldly portal. Another crow takes flight, as if it’s slipping between worlds. That’s the thing about crows and ghost pipes—they exist in the in-between, bridging the physical and the unseen.

I’ve always felt a connection to those liminal spaces. The pause between breaths. The hush before dawn. The quiet places where messages arrive if you listen closely enough.

What do you hear when you sit in the silence?

2024

Prince Edward Island, Canada

Find reproductions in the Shop