Experiencing the glory of flight at first light, once again, we find ourselves relishing the warmth of the dawn, only to roll toward the horizon and, descending, plunge back into night.
In the sky above Texas, we run into a wall of virga hanging in space, both liquid and vapor in a swirl of activity, simultaneously falling and rising…a moment of balance between perception and belief…
Waves upon a sea of stone, lapping up on islands of umber…an abstraction painted in layers of eroding earth, creating the illusion of motion and the roar of surf in a still and silent canyon.
Visit my collection, “The Abstract Landscape”
Cruising in smooth air over southeastern Utah, the atmosphere, itself, conveys an almost tangible sense of serenity…looking down on the landscape we observe a different experience detached from our moment in space as the earth displays an epochal tension between elegance and chaos. The two are not mutually exclusive but the dominant emotion changes with each shift in perspective. The elegance of narrowly etched buttes, mesas, and hoodoos cast in chaotic swirls of their molten geologic past is reimagined with each glance as the light and shadows shift and create new abstract patterns in the desert.
As sunlight bleeds into the shadows and colors the landscape with warm purple hues of morning, we roll south toward Mazatzal Mountains…The early morning clouds fall into disarray as if startled by the sudden sense of light and stand in stark contrast to the steady, solid, rolling sensation of the wind beneath our wings.
Alone in the silence of the tropopause, we watch the light pry its way into the dark shadows of storms…then a traffic call, and out of the shadows our compatriot appears, winding his way through the weather beneath us…together and alone, we share the sky for a moment as we bask in the rays of the early morning light.
Think of it in any way that you wish, but it is beautifully metaphorical…This is the moment just before the light overcomes the dark. Enjoy the moment of anticipation and wait for it with the same faith that lets you believe that day will always follow night.
Cruising above the Cascades, we look into deep, tightly spaced, jagged crevices and find ocassional pools of deep blue water…free of ice, they rest as mirrors to reflect the the surrounding grandeur. One such mirror, Lake Chelan, winds into the distant northwest where it captures the spirit of the surrounding snow capped peaks.
A tap on your shoulder, a whisper in your ear, a tingling sensation on your neck…turn around…look at me…turn around… Steaming eastward toward Atlanta, into the gloaming as the sun sinks in the western sky behind us, something beckons me to look over my shoulder…call it a feeling…and I look into a brilliant sunset filtering through a low scattered cloud layer. The silent spectacle demanded to be seen, it called out to me, and I listened. This happens everyday, but often we fail to heed the signals and we miss the opportunity to witness the mysticism that surrounds us.