I should have known that any travel blog from me would be sporadic, disjointed and no where near what I had intended.
At least I am starting at the beginning. One of the defining moments of my evolution into a fine art photographer was viewing Murray Frederick’s Salt exhibition, and seeing the accompanying video. My love of abstract and my dreams of being a landscape photographer were fused in inspiration thanks to that unbelievably stunning series of works.
As I sat, staring out of the plane, waiting for the sun to rise over Hawaii and the next stage of my journey to begin, I saw the horizon line and I was reminded of Salt. Instead of the salt flats of Lake Eyre, I had the sky and sun over the Pacific Ocean. With only the iphone to play with, I set about fighting with it to make sure it didn’t focus. These images are meant to be abstract, unclear and dreamy. They are the beauty at the end of a 10 hour flight. The rise from darkness to light at 30000 feet. The coming to an end of what so often seems like an interminable journey. If only to be the start of another one.
They, as the rest of my travel narrative will be, are designed to be little. Small, insignificant photos that mark the passing of our time in America.
I am, as I realised in the Hoh Rainforest, Washington State on day one of our trip, the photographer of the little things: here they are –