(Photography by Nancy Floyd)
Walking Through the Desert with My Eyes Closed Featuring Nancy Floyd
On View through December 31, 2022
I initially traveled to Death Valley National Park in California each year as a way to explore a beautiful, often inhospitable landscape. However, after a few years of annual sojourns to the desert, it became clear that I was drawn to barren landscapes. They were exquisitely designed environments where I could be utterly alone, with no human sounds to distract me. I had lost both my parents, and the land became a metaphor for my loss.
Today, the desert is my second home. While hiking, I ponder the marks humans make—those that are temporary (footsteps in the sand), those that are designed to be useful (trailhead signs), and those that destroy (graffiti on petroglyphs, vandalism). I feel vulnerable and insignificant with my backpack and water, yet cognizant that I can do much harm if I choose.
The desert is a place where loss is evident even while life continues to adapt and survive. Walking explores the fragility of life as I see it while making my way through barren landscapes. I’m thinking about the literal and metaphorical evidence that we leave behind.