The Aerial Horizon
Forget where your feet are and simply enjoy the view.
The Sound of Air
A rush, a whistle, a whisper, a roar…the changing character of air surrounds us and invades our perception. Silence comes to me as the absence of motion, the stillness of air…this is when the ringtones start, the brain’s craving for activity. The flat sound of a warm breeze as it laps perspiration from our skin, the roaring sound of speed as it meets with friction on an aluminum skin, the whistle of a cold wind that cuts through our layers of clothing…As we grow accustomed to the noise, we become one with the air. No longer perceiving the difference between noise and feel, we look to the telltales of clouds to understand the changing nature of the air through which we move.
Fields of Fire
When all the world is ablaze in glorious light, we lose all sense of what is…instead we live for a moment in elemental form, adrift on the breeze as we float through temporal fields of fire…electrifying our senses and elating our spirits…this moment is what matters.
Where You Find Your Horizon
Are you looking up or are you looking down to find your horizon. For some low fliers, this is a question of genetics and heredity. For some higher fliers, heredity has a role, but not the way one might think…dreams in the form of stories and a shared desire for adventure passed between parents and children. A thirst for adventure that transcends the generations…I was born to fly…I dreamed it until I could do it. Sometimes all we need are an example to follow and the encouragement to transform a dream into a possibility.
Watching all manner of birds is fodder for the imagination. While many of them spend their lives looking up toward the horizon, their innate ability, and sometimes incongruous physical forms, help us to recognize the potential in our own awkward forms…apply a wing and a desire and, suddenly, we are flying.
The Thrill of Riding…
The thrill of riding in the back of a plane is known to every child who ever sat, eyes affixed to the horizon, searching for their home from the sky. Such a little thing…the yearning to know our place on earth from a new perspective, initiates an electric chill of excitement, a fresh discovery…can set the course for a lifetime of aerial pursuit, travel, and discovery. Pick a window seat, raise the shade, and look out the window with the zeal of a child who wants to see their world from above and the skies will lift to brighten your perspective on your ordinary day as your horizons expand and an intangible sense of joy will engage your spirit.
Transitions
Out of the darkness, we find illumination, recognizing that one cannot exist without the other. In flight, the most invigorating moments happen around transitions…from static to kinetic, earth to heaven, day to night, and dark to light. Each transition folds onto the next, creating a tightly bound book of experience, illustrated with memories of light, color, and energy. We feast on change and our physical and emotional reactions to it define who we are, just as the night and day define the passage of time.
We Remember
We look upon the landscape, finding patterns drawn in shadows as if projected to trigger our private memories, and we remember the day our world changed forever…Our friends and coworkers died…our industry flailed…our national confidence was violated…we, so accustomed to feeling in control and possessing of power, felt helpless…and we wondered, “why not us.” We will remember this feeling every day for the rest of our lives, but today is a day of remembrance…it’s not about stirring up (though it does) emotions in our complicated minds…It’s about keeping the history alive so that younger generations might understand what has shaped their world and they might begin to understand our incomprehensible sense of loss. So, today, we stop. We reflect. We search our souls for peace. We honor our dead. We maintain a countenance of strength and resolve never again to be victims. We find space in our hearts for the understanding that the more we accept one another, the less we will allow to come between us. And, we remember that day which we may NEVER FORGET.
Look Up, It’s Labour Day
Look up…What do you see? I see an airplane following a great circle while appearing to fly a straight line…I see an object moving through space while appearing to fall from heaven…I see a sky that is not blue, but a deepening gradient of indigo as I look from our atmosphere into the space beyond…I see lines of contrails, gasses in a monetarily solid state before expanding and evaporating into the space of dreams…I see a luminous jet, a toy or plaything, wound up and let run for the joy of a child, but truly, a highly advanced technological craft, built by scientists, engineers, and the hands of man, the embodiment of dreams, for the purpose of conquering space and time…I see a pilot who loves his work and feels lucky to spend time in his ship, but never forgets his sacred duty to ensure the safety of that craft and all his charges riding blissfully in back as he labors to earn a better life for himself and his loved ones…Happy Labour Day.
The Surveyor and The Orbiter
The Surveyor’s Perspective
There are two types of aerial voyeurs, those who envision themselves flying over the surface of the earth and those who envision themselves flying around the earth…it may seem a minor distinction, but the difference may yield two very different perspectives…They are the perspectives of the orbiter and the surveyor. The surveyor studies the topography and the position of roads, paths, or valleys, constantly orienting himself and thinking about the relationship of spaces, envisioning the map…forever captivated by the landscape, the minute details providing intrigue and guiding his investigations. Meanwhile, the orbiter keeps his eye on the aerial horizon, sensing the motion of his craft in subtle contrast to the motion of the earth, breathing in the cold air that surrounds him, feeling a chill as sunlight peeks over the horizon, scintillating the particles of moisture and dust that drift in the troposphere, and finding solace in the deepening indigo that slowly fills the sky as he rounds the edges of twilight into night…two senses of wonder, two senses of awe, one glorious planet seen through different eyes and emotions.
The Orbiter’s Perspective
Abstract Landscape – Tension
A line of trees emerges from the stony edifice, mediating the nexus of earth and heaven. Indiscernible needles wave freely in the morning breeze, clutching at the sky while their supporting cambial structures hold fast to the ridge line. A constructive tension between elements and textures, light and dark, up and down.
Retracing Our Steps
Tiny rivulets of water trickle toward the Colorado River, joining its flow through the high desert, seeking the sea, carving pathways in the earth that shape the landscape for all time…Little things lead to big things. We wander along the way, leaving footprints, flotsam, and jetsam in our wake…we send ripples across the surface of calm waters, echoes into the night, and twisted vortices into the ether…every motion leaving a trace, whether seen or unseen. And with these big motions come little noises, our words stream from our mouths whether connected to our soulful intents or driveling the mindless nonsense of propaganda and slurs…all these little noises drift on the breeze and tell our stories. Stop. Listen. What emanations do we want to leave lingering after we are gone? For what do we wish to be remembered? Little words and acts of kindness or little words and acts of malice? Little things lead to big things.
Abstract Landscape – A Meandering Line
The paradox of a landscape is that we often can’t understand the landscape because of the overwhelming effect of the details and in turn we can’t comprehend the details due to the overwhelming visual effect of the landscape…but here at Bryce Canyon, a meandering line of hoodoos emerges, defining the contours of earth, drawing us into the details of the landscape…hoodoos, trees, ridges, valleys, dry creek beds, Navajo sandstone, and snow. The textures are articulated in such a way that we can perceive the power of each brushstroke while marveling at the beauty of the painted earthen canvas.
Wind in My Hair
I’ve always yearned for feel of wind in my hair… it is the single sensation of speed that leads, pulls, draws me toward flight and a physical feeling of a connection to the winds that lifts us into the air. As a child, I pursued it…now I dream of it, feeling the wind in my hair as it pounds the other side of the glass…speed, flight, and freedom.
Defined by Shadows
[A Retrospective] Tséyíkʼáán. The fate of stone is to be laid bare by wind and rain, each feature exaggerated by these effects in time. Its essence exposed by advancing light as the dark ragged edges of night draw slowly across its face…Rising from earth into the light, but forever defined by shadow.
Pitch me to the Sky
Pitch me to the sky and I will forever be a dreamer, filled with the elation that comes from being lifted on the breeze, moving through a world of light and color, touching the heavens without earthly tether. Introduce the dream of flight to a child and they will be forever free. Whether in their dreams or in their reality, a new way of imagining the world evolves and they will see the world differently…imagine floating above a field, flexing and stroking the air as bird on the wing, drifting and circling, moving ever faster…they are weightless, boundless, and free.
Stuck in a Moment
As we follow each other along the way, we are bound to fixate, to get stuck in a moment. The details and emotion of that moment filling our view with uncertainty, wonder, or concern and washing out all perception of the true world around us. Is it light or dark, good or bad, worry or elation?…We may not be able to discern without the tempering influence of peripheral vision and an awareness of where our anchors rest. But, surveying the scene, feeling our touchstones, finding our constants, we regain equilibrium and fly into a sky that is full of amazement…a sense of great elation filling the space in between small surprises…everything again flows and we move forward and out of the moment. That is when we realize the joy of filling our windshield with light and beauty and we cast only small glances behind us to inform our course with the lessons of our past.
Silent Intersection
[A Retrospective] We witness the intersection of the Paria and Colorado rivers…Imagining a clash of currents tumbling out of Paria Canyon and Glen Canyon, their combined energies carving Marble Canyon out of the plain…Yet there is silence…all the more deafening for its incongruity…The deep chasms before us are whispered echoes of a roaring past…a map of our youth…crows feet on the aging face of Earth.
Wanderers
We are wanderers in search of our place in a world that evolves at a rate out of step with that of our own accelerated existence. We find connections following the rippled edges of earth as though tracing the wrinkled corners of an aging loved one’s eyes. We can’t remember her youth, how she looked or how she laughed, but we cherish those smile lines and experience an existential sense of joy with each footstep along the trail.
The Hand of God
Having taken to the air, we live upon the breeze, our fates bound to the wind and weather…the effects of unseen radiation impacting earth, air, and sea. At times we feel propelled through space by incomprehensible forces as though set in motion by the hand of God, while other times, we see those forces at work but lack the ability to fully comprehend the animated scenes in front of our eyes.
Expanse
[A Retrospective] We travel along a narrow plane relative to the immensity of the space that surrounds us. In contrast to the perceived vastness of an ocean, where our journeys are bounded by land and limited by pressure, we cling to the atmosphere while the universe expands, seemingly without limit. Shadows of earth beneath us, darkness of space above us, the boundaries of our path are defined by visible layers of moisture and dust illuminated by the setting sun.
Pulsing
[A Retrospective] Following the line between night and day, the narrow path sometimes jitters like the pulsing of a high frequency wave…In and out of the light, seemingly repeating the transitory moments experienced along the way. At the nexus between the twilight and the equinox, the effect takes on a new dimension and we cross snow covered deserts under warm springtime skies. We take in these confusing signals as our hearts beat in sync with the rapid pulses of light and season.
The Aerial Horizon – Photography
The Aerial Horizon 