This is part of a set of pictures inspired by California. They are literal, and tightly done, and open to interpretation; they are colorful and monochromatic, repetitive and random. They are waves that have broken shore for me during our time here.

‘It’s the only world we’ve got. Let’s protect it while we can. That’s all there is, and there ain’t no more.’ – Jello Biafra, from ‘Hellnation’, by Dead Kennedys

There are no beaches in California, not even the most elite or erudite, that have escaped the legacy of our human presence, our human industriousness – our human dominance. I have often wondered what the land must have looked like to the original inhabitants, when the sky was clear, when the distant mountains didn’t induce a heart attack at having suddenly appeared out of thin air on one of the scant few green days in the valley.

It is something we created, and our capacity to endure the discomfort that we have ourselves wrought is truly astonishing. Changing ourselves seems the more arduous task. We enjoy our conveniences and the money they produce and have little time or care for foresight or sorting out their repercussions.

This is a mindset, something fluid, something we can change and from which ultimately all change comes. How much easier would it be, and how much better would our lives be if we chose to work in tandem with the natural forces from which our very being has arisen? How much more would we prosper with consciousness and conscientiousness?

We need the Earth, and we need the land. We are of the land and on the land. The land asks for very little in return.

The Earth does not need us, nor does the land need us. It was here millennia before we made our first faltering steps, and it will remain long after we have released our final breath into the open sky.

Who in that scenario truly holds dominion?

Stewardship and ownership are two very different concepts, and it is a distinction it would behoove us to learn.