Edge of the World

When I drive across the Astoria-Megler bridge, I feel like I’m taking my life into my own hands.  Although the area can be calm and sleepy, this is not its constant state.  There is a feeling of the impending storm, which can materialize without warning. 

How many storms has the bridge weathered? Which structures along the river remain, and which of them show obvious wear and destruction?  It makes me consider permanence, and the things we cling to as anchors.  It makes me consider the storm, and if we should just give in to the unpredictability, the tumult… the anchor-less-ness of mortality.  Within this paradox, I find endless inspiration.

Laura Hamje