There is a moment, just before waking, when the past and present blur—where dreams tangle with memory, and time folds in on itself. "The Summons" exists in that space, a world where flowers bloom eternally, just as they always have.
The flowers in this series could have been picked by my grandfather on a summer afternoon or gathered by my great-great-grandmother in a meadow long before I was born. They are a bridge between generations, unchanged by the years, their petals whispering stories of those who came before.
In 1917 my grandfather was recalled to the frontline. The flowers exploded in the dread and fear of battle and the shellshocked aftermath. They return in dreams. Finally they find a way of providing solace, if not peace.
The Summons is an exploration of time, war, and the quiet endurance of beauty. Even when history fractures, even when the world shatters, the flowers resurface. They endure. They remind us of what was, and what remains.
Perhaps this is a memory. Perhaps it is a dream. Or perhaps, it is both.
