The Dry River is inaccessible, treacherous and covered with loose sharp granite and brambles and thorns. To work there I have to slow down and become completely aware of every breath and step. Listening this way creates space and allows the observation of all the other senses to become clear. If you listen very closely to the vibration of sound it makes you intensely aware of silence. Robert Adams said, “There is everywhere silence – a silence in thunder, in wind, in the call of doves, even a silence in the closing of a car door. If you are crossing the plains, leave the interstate and find a back road on which to walk; listen.” The project Dry River juxtaposes images of this natural space with pictures of the adjacent village where I live – where our senses are projected outwards – and prompts the question, can the paradoxical “beauty” within the photographic image reconcile the destruction of our natural habitat?