Bearing Strait

A few years ago, I received a rather enigmatic statue of a polar bear from a friend of mine. I was struck by its linear geometry and I immediately, intuitively associated its form with the infamous moai seen on Easter Island as carved by the ancients that once lived there. I photographed and arranged pictures of the sculpture (which, in real life, only stands about 12 inches tall) in the fashion of equally notable depictions of the mystical stone heads on the island. To this end, the composition of the illustration evokes feelings of familiarity and plausibility by way of size, composition, and perspective among those familiar with Rapa Nui and its iconic landscape. Imagine then, walking into the valley of such gods who ruled—and continue to dominate—the north: a temple of nature, towering above all. To discover it is to succumb. Standing, perhaps, for thousands of years, these sentinels are the only thing remaining of the civilization that placed them here, as if to bath in some cosmic spa teeming with the plankton and possibilities of the universe that brought everything to this very moment.