Greg Bell
Artist Statement
What was real was now not. What was in movement was now in stasis. I remained home for longer than I ever have been. What was loud was now silent. What was planned was postponed. I slowed down. The landscape emptied. But the flowers were not told. The birds flew and nested. The trees grew leaves and then dropped them and then new again. We watched the transition before us. Life to death. And back. I grow hopeful.
