Parking Lot Psalms

The word psalms refers to the 150 biblical songs and poems of the Psalter — texts once woven into daily life, not as abstract theology but as a healing balm. They were prayed, sung through work, and spoken in grief and gratitude. In the Celtic tradition, especially, the psalms were embodied. They were tied to stone and wind, to mountains and trees. They were recited in rhythm with ordinary labor. They lived in the body.

This series draws from that lineage of lived devotion. It treats asphalt, cracks, painted lines, vines, and scattered color not as backdrop but as ground — contemporary terrain for prayerful seeing. Like the old Celtic psalters, where sacred text met intricate illumination, these photographs bring together the built world and an earthbound spirituality.

Pressing the shutter is how I cross a threshold into seeing. It is a small act of faith that I hope will open me to the beauty in the ordinary and surprise me with wonder. The parking lot becomes a place of wordless song: light illuminating concrete, turquoise salt scattered across asphalt, a vine climbing a cinderblock wall.

When I look this way, I am reminded that a living presence threads through everything — even here. And then quietly, I return home to myself.