Cynthia West says, "Clouds, shadows and branches drop clues, luring me to reach deeper than skin and bones, to touch the essence inside the appearance, the nothing that holds everything in its hands. Patience has years of seeking, one step after another in the dust, pathways that lead to water. My hand and eye never stop probing the changing shapes, now here, now gone, now flesh, now ghosts. Subtle hints flash in and out of form, quicker than loss or gain. Blown here and there, I coax the tree within to show its face. The view is turning, turning in and out of reach."