Nov 16

Nov 16 The Great Escape

Featured

The Great Escape

We are still inside. We are looking at the world from the confinements of our homes for the most part. Its been months now that we have all had to adjust to new routines, behaviors and struggles. The word normal is always out there either trying to get “back to normal” or understating the “new normal” in a situation that is less than normal. The news is overwhelming, the world events are hard on us all. We are stressed, angry, lonely, afraid, uncertain and many other emotions. We are all going through these months in our own way trying our best to do all we can, be the best we can within the situation we are in.

In this online exhibition we asked for you to take a moment and briefly escape from everything and focus on your art. This online exhibition is here to hopefully give you a brief escape from everything that is going on, take a moment to take a deep breath, look at great photography and enjoy your fellow artist and your community of like-minded peers. It is in times like these that a strong bond could elevate us, make us stronger and make us not feel alone. We are all in this together and we all share a love for art and photography, and we should not forget to take the time every once in a While, to share, support and enjoy art.

Thank you for taking the time to submit your work, engage with art and support one another and also us here at Float. We hope to bring you some comfort in this exhibition and we hope you enjoy this great selection of images.

Selected Artists / Alessia Arban, Alexander Tatarenko, Alexandra Riba, Ali Besikci, Ali Motamedi, Analisa Goodmann, Alexandr Kulikov, Andre Manuschevich, Annie Forrest , Baptiste Janin, Celeste Fernández Moncada, Costanza Musto, Carlos Donaduzzi, Charlie Zielinski, Daragh Drake, Dilara Ball, David Nelson-Hospers, Emily Thornhill, Esra Gultekin, Florian Wendler, Gaëlle Delort , Georgia Matsamaki, Greg Sand, Jane Flynn, Jaina Cipriano, Jasmine De Silva, Jesse Egner, Katalin Száraz, Kelia Ideishi, Kon Markogiannis, Lauren Grabelle, Lauren Roche, Marcello Dongu, Maria Ntrougia, Marie-Lilien Funk, Mario Dante, Max Foley, Mila Maes, Nicholas Shaya, Nathalie Joffre, Nika De Carlo, Nuno Serrão, Paula A. Reynoso, Phanuphan Kitsawaeng, Roslyn Julia, Samantha Obman, Stefanos Chronis, Steven Baboun, Tabitha Novotny, Van Truster, Vera Laponkina, Victoria Likholyot.

Contributing Writers / Tim Hodge

Featured

The breeze flows through the trees and I am alone. Not truly, the far sounds of the road and a baying dog find their way to me, but close enough.

Text by Tim Hodge

Sparrows and robins scatter as I walk down the trail near home. Minibears (a word I recently discovered for chipmunk) call in the downed leaves. The breeze flows through the trees and I am alone. Not truly, the far sounds of the road and a baying dog find their way to me, but close enough. Even in this tame wild and manicured paths, I find the escape to my own being.

Pausing for a moment in the sea of grey, brown, and green. The hard rock unwilling to relent to the erosion of my footfall. The bed of leaves obscuring the marks of those before me. How do I describe the magic of losing the trail to fresh fallen leaves? There it is, as if summoned by a spell that also breaks the magic — the blue trail marker shatters the hold, and I move forward.

...It filled me with a sadness I am at a loss to explain. Perhaps it’s just a longing for the connection that I’m reading into it...

Walking down a trail in the Catskills passing the minibears hunting for food, I find myself at a clearing overlooking a creek onto another mountain. I’m struck by the three-dimensionality of this place, how sharp the drop. But not just the grand vistas have this nature. As I sit to write, carpenter ants ascend my pack and others leap from a sapling to land on my legs. A vulture passes in the valley. The smell in the air: chlorophyll, soil, life. Sunlight kisses skin through the leaves.

Once when I was camping I tried to make friends with a harvestman. As I put away the stove, I saw it was mere inches from me. The harvestman fled and while watching it go I found the leg of another one that had somehow become detached sitting on the fire pit. It fascinated me. Then a twitch. Still alive in its own way. It moved, carrying out the last signals it had received, reenacting the message “MOVE” over and over. I placed it in the palm of my hand and watched it jump for a while. It filled me with a sadness I am at a loss to explain. Perhaps it’s just a longing for the connection that I’m reading into it. Or it is the futile attempt to change its fate. I hope the harvestman who lost it was successful in its escape — its sacrifice worthwhile.

Often I need to escape my house, to be in the woods. Not because anything is wrong, but because the chilly rain pressed against my skin feels right. The message “MOVE” echoing over and over again in my mind; the call to myself is never clearer than when I am amongst the trees.