RIM WALKER

name:

RIM WALKER 

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+ member 

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notes:

As a child, I lived on a large farm in southwestern Virginia, where my father and I took long walks through the woods. We explored the creeks and the waterfalls and strolled around the pond tucked away in a wooded bottom. There were also several abandoned tobacco barns, houses, and everything else that an old Southern farm might contain. Those were the magical places in which the fairies, trolls, and monsters of my childhood dwelled. I went to these places and played, or sat for hours at a time contemplating their mysteries. I daydreamed about all the imaginary explorers, Indians, Pilgrims, soldiers who had been there before me and looked out over the same places that I had played. When I turned sixteen and earned my driver’s license, I began to explore the world around me and search for the magical places and beautiful things that lay beyond that old farm. I would drive around all day on backcountry roads looking for an old abandoned bridge, barn, farmhouse, or some small creek or waterfall. I looked for anything tucked away in some quiet corner where I knew the magical beings would still feel free to frolic about and call home. Today at thirty-one I still feel drawn to those same places. I try to capture them and the beauty that surrounds them with the same uninhibited freedom and perspective that I had as a child. There are still times when I am alone, far from civilizations loud droning cry, that I feel the same lump in my throat and chill down my spine that I did then. And, just as before, I feel the magical creatures of my childhood peering out at me from the shadows, just beyond the light. I hear the echoes of their silly little laughs and their voices calling to me from a distance. 

registration:

Wed 12 Mar 2003 

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