KATHLEEN MULCAHY

I am floating along on the West Branch of the Susquehanna. It is a slow, wide river and the riverbed is so close you can almost touch it from the edge of the canoe. My arm drops over the edge and I let my fingers open to the cool sluice of water through my fingers. Several things coalesce in my dreaming on water: the need to look deeply below the surface, below the skin, allowing the transparency and diffusion of the etching to obscure and reveal at the same time. This river or stretch of horizon that I am willing into being presents me with that perfect moment of a storm receding, the air clearing and the feeling that everything has become new.