Inside The Fire Line

Slender birch rise through a landscape glowing with rust, copper, and embered orange, their pale trunks scarred with layers of black, white, blue, and green. Dark branches and charred-looking marks cut through the warmth while flashes of new green push upward between them, a forest holding evidence of what happened here while already beginning again.

At the forest floor, fireweed gathers in brilliant pinks and magentas, weaving between grasses and tall lavender lupine. Fine evergreen branches, blackened seed heads, and loose botanical marks create layers of life among the damaged trees. Nothing is neat or untouched. And yet, nothing is still.

Inside The Fire Line is about what grows after devastation. About scars becoming part of the landscape without becoming the whole story. About the stubborn, beautiful return of color & the life that begins reaching for the light before the ashes have even disappeared.

Comes framed, ready to hang.
Created in my Anchorage home studio.