‘When we think of an archetypal cloud, we think cumulus: the picture book clouds. The word ‘cumulus’ comes from the Latin for ‘heap’ or ‘pile’, and like a cloud slowly accumulating droplet by droplet, this collection of images is the product of many years labour. Framed by his camera and plucked from the sky, clouds become numinous artifacts; images filtered through the mind’s eye. Dazzling explosions of bulbous white. Pendulous udders beneath quilted beds. Fragile curlicues of fine-spun thread. To look at these works is to wonder why we aren’t cloudstruck, immobilized with awe, scanning the sky every moment we get.
Unlike the static world of architecture and interiors to which Trevor Mein devotes much of his professional life, the sky is an ever-changing arena, full of moment by moment drama in which the landscape of the human heart is writ large in the sky. As snapshots of never-to-be- repeated instants, his photographs remind us that all phenomena, all forms of life, are – in the end – like a cloud. Transient, and constantly eluding our grasp. This, as Mein puts it, is the ‘fabulous and sad’ knowledge gained in pursuing the clouds. And yet for all their turbulence, watching clouds is, for Mein, a time of stillness and reflection. A chance to be child again, lying on the grass, staring at the sky. A re-ignition of an early passion for castle in the air.’ Fiona Capp 2011