I’ve always had vivid, all-consuming dreams.
I blame it on right-brained wiring that stokes the creative flames for an evening that burns through every emotion in my body.
In fact, one of my first childhood memories is a vision written from the desk of Winkin’, Blinkin’ and Nod.
A maniacal deer chased me around a huge shrub in the back yard and, just before it caught up to devour my arm, I took flight. This same sequence wove itself into my nights for years. The high of escape never got old.
I don’t fly as frequently anymore, but when I do, the release is brilliant. It feels soo real that I wake up and I have to remind myself that I can’t just float to work. A few years ago, I actually flapped my arms to check. I wish I were kidding. That kind of departure from reality is inspiring.
As I began to edit my photos from my ski trip to Vail, I saw an opportunity to release the subjects in my photographs from reality as well.
Why can’t they fly? Why can’t they explode into the sky like my dad did at Killington Mountain in 1992….just before he smacked into the reality that he was over 40 years old and his name wasn’t on an XGames roster? Thank God he only shattered his dignity landing that jump.
I decided to make all of my subjects Fly Boys. I decided to let everyone experience what it might look like to let go of gravity and sail the currents, untethered and uncontrolled.
Therein resulted a series of fantastical, dreamy images direct from my mind and the wide open skies of Colorado
The latter half of my photos from this trip are also based in fantasy – of the time-travel kind.
My friends and I dropped into Central City, Colorado on our adventure back to the airport, and the daily grind.
Central City lives firmly in the 1800s. I got the impression we might be driving two centuries to get there as we traversed endless, twisting, empty hills.
The only sign that humans existed up ahead was, in fact, a sign. At the base of the journey, a billboard painted in racetrack colors screams “CENTRAL CITY”. Ah, the the picture of irony.
Like many abandoned mining towns in Colorado, locals in Central City imported casinos as an economic prop.
The casinos felt just as sad as the passing of the town’s hay day. A few slot machines blinked in a room that looked more like a highway rest stop than a thoroughfare of fun.
The true beauty of this town lies in honoring that the future does not exist there. It is a place to reflect on what was, not on what will be. It is a place to pay respects to what will never exist again, no matter how many turns this earth does around the sun.
My friends and I inhabited that soul-filling moment in Central City and then promptly jumped back in the car for turkey sandwiches.
You can’t live in a dream forever. You have to fill your stomach too.