There are many things that inspire me, from a gorgeous sunrise, to an exchange with a friend, to a brilliant turn of phrase, to a burst of genuine laughter. But what inspires me the most are those moments of spontaneity that can’t possibly be rehearsed or constructed beforehand, those times that I know can’t possibly be repeated.
I try to live in those moments as much as possible because I know they can be so few and far between, and I know they won’t be back again, not in the same way. Sometimes those moments are captured just as spontaneously by a word, by a phrase, or by a few brushes of paint on paper.
In the moment above I see a dirigible flying northeast out over the water below, with enough fuel to reach the outer edges of the horizon. Or a dark bird contrasted against a blank sky, stretching its wings for the very first time, surprised that it hasn’t already fallen. Or a palm tree in profile, with burgeoning coconuts straining against the branches, threatening to fall. Or a broken halo of a distressed angel, praying for a salvation she used to take for granted.
I live this moment continuously, from every single angle, every time I gaze at this piece of art, and I realize that the explanations are endless, because the moment is endless when I can capture it inside of my lens. These brushstrokes keep breathing even though they are long dried on the page. I really ought to take more photographs, in the hopes that once in a while one of them might turn out like this one, taking the measure of an idea and turning it into a nostalgia worth knowing, and worth living all over again.