(a quiet note before your hooves go deeper)
not quite a gallery, not exactly a project, certainly not a movement: just a meadow.
sometimes trodden, sometimes quiet. sometimes full of visitors, sometimes just half a hoofprint in the dust.
a horse appears here from time to time (sometimes more than one) in black and white, not always anatomically correct, but always with a kind eye.
it speaks in short sentences, with a leaning toward curiosity, a brush of absurdity, and a soft edge of something that might be called science, or maybe just common horse sense.
this meadow keeps its laces untied. nothing is curated too much. nothing is explained all the way.
you might meet a whispering mare and get a signed prophecy from her as a postcard in the post, or wonder what kind of horse you are today. or simply pass through — unbitten, unbridled, and maybe a little more yourself.
this meadow isn’t here to grow: but if it does, may it be like moss — slow, soft, and never asking for more than light.
thank you for grazing and browsing here.
if you ever have a question, a thought, a wish to interview cooke the mare, or something hoof-shaped to share: you can reach out through the contact me page. i may take a little while, but i always try to answer.