Carol Endean Little
Recycled aged tree limbs, paint
Image: Keith Maxwell
The remnants of trees hang suspended; fading memories of forests long gone.
Ghosts is an elegy for all we have lost in our world through our never-ending desire for `more’.
We strip-mine the oceans and land. We clear-fell. We take the soil and water. We pollute. We cover in concrete and waste.
We are fools. It is we who may be the ‘ghosts’ of the future.