One day that song comes on at random. You know, that song, the one that stirs your heart and you feel the currents of time coursing around you and you know, things are about to change again, as they always inevitably do. Ideas and dreams begin to surface; you feel your life shifting direction, or perhaps it is the wind changing, and you begin to adjust your sails.
(When I think about winds changing I always think of Andy at the Glacier Lodge exclaiming, “it’s ramping up out there!”, and there we would be in our little boat in 13-foot seas, walls of black ocean obscuring the horizon and washing over the deck in great explosions of water, and how being alive was so vivid, then.)
I’m not going to write any more until I know, but things may soon be changing very, very quickly.
A Gift (Beach Glass #1), Rockport, ME, 2013
One thing is certain. A plan has been in the works for some time that I would now like to unveil; a plan that will take me to the epicenter of where mythology and northern landscape intersect. You know. The dream pictures. Iceland.
In a few short weeks, I will be boarding a transatlantic flight to Reykjavik, embarking on a multi-week photographic expedition, mostly alone, through the vast northern landscapes my work has begun to revolve around. I’m taking very little with me, and the only real goals are the photographs. I’ve started dreaming of cold air again, and tundra, and the sound of wind whipping past the hood of my parka. I know what my element is, as much as I have loved the wondrous discoveries of a true, warm summer. It will always call me back.
But first, I’m going to the Alaskan Arctic, weather permitting. Stay tuned.