Art of Seana McNamara

I stared up at the crescent moon that had tipped over and slid into a Cheshire cat’s smile. I helped Sharon carry the groceries to her house but refused the flashlight she offered me as I left. I preferred to walk home in the dark.

If I can walk in the dark, I know where I am. It is the ultimate test of belonging. I walked quickly down my neighbor’s uneven rammed earth steps, hitting each riser with my heel before I stepped, secure in the rhythm of my feet. But when I reached the road, the darkness ended. Floodlights trained on a neighbor’s front steps spilled over the orange clay of path, outlining each chipped, half-submerged stone. Anyone could walk safely. The path’s startling color flattened the dark into dense, unfriendly blackness. It pressed against the sharp edges of the light. There were no streetlights on Wirringulla Avenue — a one-lane dirt track — and as I walked, the darkness thinned, separating into shades of grey.

Soon the sky silhouetted the tall, closely spaced trees that edged the path. Through the twiggy branches above me, I could see a few stars. The dark frond of a cabbage tree palm slanted towards me. Tomorrow it would gleam like a green-rayed sun. I fixed the image in my memory. The world seemed large, uncluttered, and very beautiful. It was so quiet that my thoughts surrounded me in a bubble of sound. The bubble stretched, enveloping the distant eucalyptus trees.

Something thudded in front of me. I froze, my eyes fixed on impenetrable blackness. A wallaby — a skittish, ungraceful animal like a miniature kangaroo — must have landed. Wind brushed the left side of my face. I imagined it hurtling towards me, glimpsing me in midair in time to swing its heavy tail and change its flight-path to miss me. I heard a thud behind me and turned to face the sound. It crashed away through the dead ferns. Silence again. As I walked down the hill, the sound of my thoughts merged into the quiet. The sky was a dark grey slash in front of me, bracketed by trees. I could not see my feet.



	Home Series Flux Talk Echoes Mazes Painting Drawing Digital Images Photography Sculpture Design Jabberwock Statement	Walking in The Dark I stared up at the crescent moon that had tipped over and slid into a Cheshire cat’s smile. I helped Sharon carry the groceries to her house but refused the flashlight she offered me as I left. I preferred to walk home in the dark. If I can walk in the dark, I know where I am. It is the ultimate test of belonging. I walked quickly down my neighbor’s uneven rammed earth steps, hitting each riser with my heel before I stepped, secure in the rhythm of my feet. But when I reached the road, the darkness ended. Floodlights trained on a neighbor’s front steps spilled over the orange clay of path, outlining each chipped, half-submerged stone. Anyone could walk safely. The path’s startling color flattened the dark into dense, unfriendly blackness. It pressed against the sharp edges of the light. There were no streetlights on Wirringulla Avenue — a one-lane dirt track — and as I walked, the darkness thinned, separating into shades of grey. Soon the sky silhouetted the tall, closely spaced trees that edged the path. Through the twiggy branches above me, I could see a few stars. The dark frond of a cabbage tree palm slanted towards me. Tomorrow it would gleam like a green-rayed sun. I fixed the image in my memory. The world seemed large, uncluttered, and very beautiful. It was so quiet that my thoughts surrounded me in a bubble of sound. The bubble stretched, enveloping the distant eucalyptus trees. Something thudded in front of me. I froze, my eyes fixed on impenetrable blackness. A wallaby — a skittish, ungraceful animal like a miniature kangaroo — must have landed. Wind brushed the left side of my face. I imagined it hurtling towards me, glimpsing me in midair in time to swing its heavy tail and change its flight-path to miss me. I heard a thud behind me and turned to face the sound. It crashed away through the dead ferns. Silence again. As I walked down the hill, the sound of my thoughts merged into the quiet. The sky was a dark grey slash in front of me, bracketed by trees. I could not see my feet. From the sky, I guessed where the path lay. I trusted the dark.