This piece floats in the crystal-clear, turquoise water of Baja, where winter sunlight pours down in pale beams and breaks into shimmering patterns across the whales’ bodies. Interlaced ribbons of color—copper, indigo, pearl, and sand—follow the contour of the mother’s flank and the calf at her side, catching the light like moving mosaics.
Baja is their nursery and dance floor. From November to April, humpbacks gather off Los Cabos, Gordo Banks, and the calm coves of the Sea of Cortez to court, sing, and raise their young. Here the calf learns the ocean’s grammar—how to breathe, roll, and follow the slow, deliberate cadence of its mother—while males thread the blue with long winter songs.
The woven textures in the whales’ forms echo that living choreography: breaches and tail-slaps above, quiet nursing below, and the hush between notes when mother and calf drift through a shaft of light. In this moment of stillness, the sea becomes a lantern, and their bodies become the lantern’s script—turquoise water writing light onto skin as they hover in a world made of sound, motion, and glow.
