In the fall of 2004, I was on a junior high school camping trip to Cypress Hills Provincial Park. The trip included a nature hike. The gym teacher took my class up to a precipice and told us to follow the road back to the campsite.
I reckoned that if I cut through a stand of trees it would save at least a twenty-minute walk around the dense bush. With that, I darted into the perimeter and moved swiftly between the conifers.
After 40 minutes of bushwhacking, I was wild with terror that I had not emerged from the other side of the stand. The rhythm of feet matched the beat of my heart. Just as I was about to give into panic, I caught sight of the road I was looking for. Walking out of the tree line carried a euphoric feeling.
How far? Is an installation to replicate this moment of euphoria, as I emerged from the dark forest with a humble appreciation and respect for a space that could have easily swallowed me whole.