Aerial / Yonder and Land Marks
Working with a microscope in my photography over the last few years has altered my perception of scale and distance. The vast and the tiny unify: when an airplane window replaces a microscope lens, a winding river’s tributaries viewed from 35,000 feet may be indistinguishable from a magnified view of veins and capillaries, roots, or the magnified hair follicles of a bee, or a tear. The continuity of nature’s patterning shows up as the result of a moment or a thousand years in the making.
Since the plane is in motion, the interplay between scale and time brings fractal patterns in one region to pure abstraction in another in a matter of seconds. Passing over curious and fluctuating compositions - fresh as a quick gestural sketch or a collage of surprising juxtapositions - these are moments of inspiration for me. I’m revitalized by unexpected beauty, especially the views that are visually disorienting, when my mind is at a loss for explanation. I take it all in with the awareness that I’m often not sure if what is so visually compelling is the outcome of nature, design, or indifference.
Meanwhile, the monitor attached to the backside of the seat in front of me recalculates “distance to destination” every few moments; perhaps we are indeed guided by direction and purpose. The distance to destination decreases until the destination itself seems unknowable or simply becomes a finer and finer point of view.
Santa Monica Daily Press
Artweek LA/Huffington Post