“Fly the ocean in a silver plane…”

An old propeller plane seen from the ground in South Africa.“…see the jungle when it’s wet with rain…”

As I write this, I am somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean between Europe and the United States. I always request a window seat because you never know when you’re going to get that perfect shot of the sun rising over South America or see a distant thunderstorm illuminate the horizon on your descent into Singapore. I was just lost in thought gazing out the window and thinking about how flying’s magic is not lost on me. The fact that you can close your eyes in New York and wake up in a world you’ve only dreamed of in what seems like minutes still leaves me in childlike wonder.

I ponder sometimes if the pace of our distances allows us more or less? What would Darwin have accomplished in the era of air travel? Part of being a freelancer is never knowing which way the current will take you nor how hard the undertow will be but I feel so incredibly lucky to have seen so much of the world through my lens. I haven’t yet figured out what the ultimate influence will be on my life’s work of all the lands I’ve seen, and to be honest I am still exploring…it’s true what they say: “The more I travel, the less I know.”

A view of New York City from above the clouds.Cover image originally from HERE

Second image is flying out from New York

 

Why do we look at photographs?

Looking up at Franklin Street in Tribeca

A photograph is a moment of our time in life, a brief slice of happening. It’s the capturing of a memory, holding far more detail than we can ever comprehend…the way the light looked, the way it felt to be there. Sometimes, if the photograph is good enough, you can smell the air, feel it along your skin.

You can look at a good photograph and feel it come alive, the image dancing into a mirage of your memories – are they real? are they fact? – blurring the lines between what is my remembering and what is yours, what is a dream and what is your own reality.

I’ve been here before…or have I? I look at this photograph and I hear my heels click on the cobblestone walkway. I am sure I was here. In heels? Perhaps not…that’s something I’ve only dreamt about.