Standing in the center of it all, eyes out of focus, every detail meanders by in turn, intricate and precious, then all at once undefined. Eyes into focus. Daisy grin.


Painting
Design
Personal

Backroads
Behance
Instagram


















































You’re either really lost, really lucky, or really curious.


































































































Hello?






















































































































We really must stop meeting like this.



























































































































Seriously. Go back.































































































































































Fine, I’ll help you. Click Me.

B. TAYLOR HARRISON



Standing in the center of it all, eyes out of focus, every detail meanders by in turn, intricate and precious, then all at once undefined. Eyes into focus. Daisy grin.


Observations


A familiar space – uncluttered, uncertain. The delicate moment at the koi pond’s surface, crumbs kissing its face, colors emerging, mouths gaping.



July 2023

What a perfectly dreary day. I wish I had savored it more. Running down for the mail in the rain was simply fantastic.

June 2023

Soft wrinkles and Southern roads, evidence of frequent travelers – meanders and belov’d expressions.

January 2023

The muddy pigment between expansive future and vivacious past, the streaking blaze in our ever-shifting memories. The yellows and greens and pinks and greys nestled between the setting sun and oncoming night – the twilight, the becoming.
Each moment, though seemingly static and still, is actively becoming the past even as we become our future selves. We know who we once were, the backroads we once haunted; but who we will be is rooted in the moment, the static, the still. That is the essence – the essence of becoming.

December 2022

The shadow blinked – once without thinking then twice with a smile. It stepped from its corner, a generous gesture, but still to be questioned considering the wily flick of its tail.

November 2022

I miss the days when we would sit on the swings, heads thrown back, falling into the sky.











B. Taylor Harrison | Creative
© Brookelyn Taylor Harrison 2020-2024

Thursday Dec 28 2023