Holding Pattern. I was born into a military family in the plains of Montana. We moved frequently throughout the Midwest and Europe. As a family we hiked, rode, camped and visited these spaces. We also had to conform into military norms; they told us how to behave, what to wear, how to act and specific rules to follow. A child does not get to escape that. We were expert packers and movers. Every plate, dish, towel and toy carefully wrapped in an organized way to get us to the next post. We knew how to pack our things, and we knew how to wait while someone else decided where we were going, when, how long and what our next few years would hold.

I know this grief, so familiar, yet distant in history. Memories of this pass through me as I face the landscape of change in the present. I do the only thing I know how to do. Watch, look and listen. What I see through the lens, what catches my attention, in the woods of my walks, in my interiors and in my beloveds faces and bodies are reflections of my internal world. A psychological geography that is revealed more clearly to me there. These spaces and places are mirrors of an internal struggle and grief. Upheaval and solitude. Home and hope. The beauty of change and the constant of love. I cannot stay in the air of uncertainty forever; this holding pattern is temporary. I give myself time to understand and feel these changes. The process of making this body of work is the path forward, a guidance system pointed toward home.

~ Pam Heemskerk