Horizon in Rocks

In Östergötland, where I live, rocks aren't a feature of the landscape — they are the landscape. Massive formations rise into the sky and define the horizon itself, so that instead of the smooth, uninterrupted line we expect from a horizon, you get an unbroken chain of sharp ridges and faults, like an endless mountain range carved by time.

These are no ordinary stones. They're solidified lava, the original crust of the Earth, fractured when it cooled and then worn smooth over millennia by wind, rain, and season. Each one carries that long history in its shape.

And in the cracks between them, plants take hold — brave green softening the raw grey granite. That's what holds me: life threading itself through the unyielding stone. Resilience against permanence, the two in one frame.

This is my landscape theme at its most elemental. An original drawing. Signed.

Jolanta