Joyce Zavorskas

"My muse is shifting sand and clay, slipping and sliding, enduring then uncertain.Random patterns and rhythms appear and disappear, earth without embellishment, elusive and uncertain. Cliffs, after storms, are scoured and blasted battlefields, canvases with nature’s wrath and fury etched on their facades. Restless and uprooted fragments of organic matter, like discarded trash, litter their slopes. Bearing witness to a changing world, the cliffs endure, our silent ocean sentinels."  Joyce Zavorskas
6 results
High Head
Hillside Trail
Outgoing Tide
Triple Wave