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Something to Say

Observations from the Field by B.C. Walker

{#23} What Negative Space Reveals

{#23} What Negative Space Reveals

There’s a flowering crabapple outside my window that tells me something I can’t see—when the wind is up. No sound, just motion: spring petals and leaves shimmering all at once, an ivory-green murmur against the sky. The wind itself is invisible. But I know it’s there...

FEATURED FIELD NOTE

{#23} What Negative Space Reveals

There’s a flowering crabapple outside my window that tells me something I can’t see—when the wind is up. No sound, just motion: spring petals and leaves shimmering all at once, an ivory-green murmur against the sky.

The wind itself is invisible. But I know it’s there because I can see what it moves. So much of life is like that. We don’t see the force—we see the shift.

This is the gift of negative space. Not absence, but presence through invisibility. Like the silence between notes that makes music. The margin that makes words legible. The pause that gives a sentence shape. Whitespace. Horizon. Void. Shadow. Pause. Gap. Silence. Ambiguity. Waiting. Each a different name for what’s not there—but deeply felt.

Robert Frost once wrote, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Often misunderstood as a call to isolation, it’s really about clarity. A fence doesn’t keep people out—it shows where I end and you begin. Without it, there’s confusion. Drift. Collision.

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Recent Field Notes

{#22} When the Trail Narrows - I passed them one by one as I left home that morning. Dodging people in every form—on bikes, skateboards, pushing strollers—each of us negotiating the tight spaces of the Provo…
{#21} The Quiet Thunder of Awe - There are moments—quiet, sudden, unbidden—when the world opens. A canyon flickers in the last light of day. Snow hushes everything. A spring flower opens before your eyes. Blossoms, not there…
{#20} Measuring My Shadow - Shortly after the massive explosion of industrial growth following World War II, the German philosopher Martin Heidegger warned that modern life was beginning to treat the earth only in terms…
{#19} Endless Summer - Winter in Utah County hits hard and often overstays its welcome. The cold settles in, clinging to the valley floor, and the mountains—majestic in summer—become an impassable wall of snow…
{#18} Out of Season - Cold bites the air, frost grips the earth. Beneath the surface, something stirs—midwinter is not stillness, but a quiet revolution. Weeks have passed since the solstice, and weeks remain before…
{#17} Flow State - Big Springs is my favorite haunt, no matter the season. Winter transforms it into something entirely different—quiet, vast, and alive with its own rhythm. As I hike toward the springs,…

About Field Notes

 

I notice things. And writing about them has always been my passion project. Now painting them has helped me see the world in new and exciting ways.

I hope whatever you see here might serve you in some small way—to gain deeper insight, to think about the world differently, and to connect more profoundly with others. You will find published pieces interspersed with my own regular observations. Enjoy!

Book—The Meadowlark

Overview

In 1885, southeastern Idaho was the last part of the country to open for homesteading. Young Cassie Rapp arrives with her family to farm a country overrun by sagebrush and lacking water. With others they meet, they harness the mighty Snake River and turn 100,000 acres of barren earth into the rich farm community it is today.

Meanwhile, modern-day character Emma Rose, a notable speaker and business consultant, is trying to make sense of her recently deceased father’s request to be buried in a small Idaho town. Her journey of discovery begins from there.

News, Coverage, and Updates

1,000 copies sold!

Podcast: Interview on “Start Writing #134” (YouTube or all platforms)

Audible audio version now available here.

Read coverage in East Idaho Business Journal – “East Idaho Native captures the feeling of hometown Rigby”

LATEST PIECE

Fine Art

No one is born an artist, or at least that’s what I tell myself. I actually know a few natural-born artists who, of course, have honed their craft and created masterpieces. My self-taught, hack approach has produced nothing but delight (for me!) as I have learned to capture what I see rather than what I know—that pine trees aren’t always green and light does curious things to the eves of a building and elements off in the distance.

Heaven & Earth (16×20, floater frame, $1,250)

Additional Art