The hare is often positioned where one space gives way to another. At the edge of the field, it stands between cover and openness, neither fully concealed nor entirely exposed. This threshold is not incidental. It is where the hare reads the land most clearly.
Edges carry information. Grass shifts before wind is felt. Sound travels differently. From this position, the hare can remain still while holding multiple directions at once. Safety is not found in retreat, but in awareness — in knowing when to move and when to stay.
In the work, the field is never enclosed. It opens outward, offering no clear boundary to settle into. The hare’s presence at its edge becomes a way of thinking about belonging without enclosure. Home is not a fixed interior, but a lived understanding of where one stands in relation to what surrounds them.
The edge of the field is also a place of decision. Movement is possible in any direction, yet restraint is chosen. The body remains poised, weight distributed, ready but uncommitted. This quiet readiness holds the image in balance.
Returning to this position again and again has made its significance clearer. The edge is not a point of hesitation, but of attentiveness. It allows the hare — and the work — to remain responsive, grounded, and open to what lies beyond the immediate frame.