Joe Dresner – prester john

 

Joe Dresner
prester john

We spend winter sitting at the mouth of our sandy tunnels scrutinizing the deserted harbour. Young families strike out in little wagons never to be seen again. But come tourist season it’s a struggle to keep stock on the shelves. One finds oneself painting on the unprimed side of the canvas and loving it. All of nature is agitated as if by a public secret, the great orchestra of the sea collects itself and approaches a dangerous harmony. The shaman and his apprentice decided it was a good omen, but also a warning.