Architecture of Cities: Below and Above

I was ten years old when I first thought to fly unencumbered by an airplane or other devices: I saw flight from from thousands of feet above: I measured the landing from my perch to the softness of the green grass: I measured the landing into a caldera that had not yet existed: I was ten.

From the day after and the rest of my time I have allowed my imagination to tippy-toe from above:

 The Wings of Desire’ angel Bruno Ganz could easily have embodied an imaginary muse for Wim Wenders or myself: When Ganz stood wondering and eyes wandering, I managed to see what I thought he saw: He dreamed: I dreamed: Like an angel in flight: My wings alit into newly discovered adventures: I discovered: The film Wings of Desire is one of many reminders; something more is there:

It is my nature to realize my captures are not merely a landing but an investigation: I land from towering heights: My eyes rise towards heights unknown: Light shifts: Images change: My mind shifts: The images shifts: My mind engages: My mind disseminates a catalog of the entire visual world: It is like a million floaters swimming in my eyes: I merely need to harness the truth in my captures, my dreams: How else can I engage vantages:

Desire is a powerful drug: I need to fly: I need to spread what wings I have left: My desires make frames that matter still: I inject a daily dose of flight desiring to make dreams in my eyes:

I have stood before the some of the tallest buildings on earth: I have stood atop some of the tallest building on earth: The measure of flight descending and ascending is dizzying: It is a manner of scoping out needs before I capture: I manner scoping: Then ask, what needs to be taken, if at all:

Why not pursue what my eyes may see as if I was back in time: The 1932 Skyscraper Soulscomes to mind: A story almost one hundred years before Megalopolis: Though different yet akin to the nature of birth and rebirth in cities: So much on the line: A treble of brilliance in the air: The entire built environment from the ancient to the moment rests before me: I see my voice: I hear my pictures:

The history my eyes have seen is slowly disappearing: Everyday I begin again: I search for new history and new encounters that feel like my “first”: Then I begin again. It is as if I am accompanying Marianne Faithfull through natures’ conveyor of pollinator gardens: Britain’s long winding Ridgeway trackway takes us away and returns us to a place to begin again: Marianne’s later rasp is whispered: A couple of  Beatles  whistle “ The Long and Winding Road”: Around we go: To and fro my camera lives in the past, present and willingly, futures: My youthful exuberances mastermind my visual life in photography.

So many movies, book titles and songs create a harmonious mind centered archive: It becomes a gateway to something better: The reminder of the pleasures recharged my electrolytes: My irises brighten: Songs are heard: Celluloid captures: Scribbling continues: Discovery for a few moments is ahead:

Sometimes secrets are not seen: We miss capturing secrets: We make up stories about the ones that got away: The capture not made: I have missed seasonal moons, chiaroscuro sunlight married into shadows: I have missed my cities covered in dappling light: I have not taken certain risks: I will never come to terms with what is in my rear view but should have been caught: Snippety-snap-snap must always be heard: A pause can be deadly, a capture should be celebrated:

If something is there to be photographed, there is a reason. There is majesty in every frame, unless you pause to consider: My mind often takes a walk with  the late great photographer August Sander: He saw a united family in almost every human life: I see the mere make up of a city: It is a unity of our planet built: It is a family of figures I dream to capture. The movie title Make Way for Tomorrow comes to mind: