The morning sun projects the day onto waking eyelids. In an instant, you are here. A tickle in the corner of consciousness brings a faint memory of a place. The tickle becomes an itch. The mind stretches furiously, straining to retrace steps, to push back into that otherworldly yet unsettlingly familiar “place.” Just as pieces begin to rematerialize, something slips and it all vanishes completely from beneath your feet. For a split second, you hover between two worlds. For a split second, it all comes back.
Hallie Packard's works depict a place nostalgic and foreign—comfortable and untouchable at once. A place through which the presence of humanity echoes, but from a source that has long since expired. Man-made relics interact with the natural world, confirming the question of previous human existence and conforming to—even mutating to become one with—the wildly organic environment surrounding them. As reminders of the wonder that abounds and the respect it deserves, these works are dedicated to rediscovering and cultivating the magic of this world.