I never knew his name, but I watched him for years; an unimpressive old pony in a nearby field. The sun would sparkle off his white coat or sometimes he would almost disappear in fog while patiently enduring all seasons and weather. At some point I started recording him with photographs and in paint.

He would glow with an atmosphere of colors reflecting off his back, sometimes from up close and sometimes far away. As the years flowed by, all around his field an insidious sprawl of car de...