Experimenting – Actually, Mostly Playing – from an Airplane Window, Part I, At the Airport

Flying from Madison to NYC

Loading Luggage and Misc © 2014 Bo Mackison

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”
~ Terry Pratchett from A Hat Full of Sky

Typically, I am a slow photographer.

I sit and absorb the feel of a place. I connect with the space. I may wait for a certain cloud formation to float into a certain location, or a shadow to darken a rock. I take in the feel of the space, the mood of the landscape, the energy of the street scene.

Sometimes, I am a photographer who wants to play and just see what happens.

I grab my iPhone, shake the camera,  start shooting.

My favorite techniques for giving myself full permission to enjoy the process  – PLAY – I refer to as my “shake and take” technique.

I open the Hipstamatic app on my iPhone and take a photo.

Then I shake the phone. The app randomly changes lenses and film. During my recent flight from Madison Wisconsin to New York City, I took a photo, shook, took the next photo. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Sometimes I simply must put serious aside and just play. On this flight, that is exactly what I did, and I loved the crazy, sometimes totally great, sometimes totally crazy results.

Sharing. Because sharing is part of the fun and play!

Flying from Madison to NYC

Safety Check for Take Off © 2014 Bo Mackison

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson from Emerson’s Essays

Flying from Madison to NYC

We Depend on Wisconsin Aviation © 2014 Bo Mackison

“It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on earth has ever produced the expression, ‘As pretty as an airport.”
~ Douglas Adams from The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

Flying from Madison to NYC

Winging Away from Madison © 2014 Bo Mackison

“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.”
~ Anaïs Nin

I did something similar earlier this year, documented in the post A Series of Photographs – Exploring the Creative Process.

In that series I shot only one subject from the same perspective – a palo verde tree – using the “shake and take” method.

In this flight series, I explore a cross-country flight and then exploring bits of NYC using the same method.

Part one begins at the Madison airport, Part Two and Three are sky and (crazy) clouds and tiny landscapes, Part Four is rather amazing views of New York City on a clear day while descending into La Guardia. Parts Five, Six, and Seven include Long Island vineyards and wineries, the town of Greenport, and a funky restaurant in NYC. And then beyond…the return.

Enjoy. Then go play!

Popeye’s Louisiana Kitchen, Gate B13, Salt Lake City Airport – A Valentine Poem

Salt Lake City.

Salt Lake © 2014 Bo Mackison

Twelve faux wood tables greasy with biscuit crumbs.
Twenty four red metal chairs, unforgiving on the spine.

I choose a corner table, the walls at my side and back, protection with
a panoramic view of other diners, the terminal.
Wide windows frame the snow-capped mountains in the distance.

Rachael hustles in her wide-screen TV kitchen, preparing Valentine Specials:
blood orange champagne cocktails, bacon and egg spaghetti.
Tarragon and onions sizzle in the skillet. They glisten.

Diners huddle over their chicken and fries
as low clouds move in, delaying connections.
Colorado, Long Beach, Phoenix. Cancellations. Re-booked flights.
The fast food joint fills with tension from rushing,
and worse, boredom and waiting.

The TV audience explodes with enthusiastic applause.
Rachael exclaims, “Stunning.” She swirls pasta on her fork.
Toasts with her blood orange drink. “Happy life.”

The chicken and biscuit crowd ignore her.
Overweight, balding or baseball capped, ear buds dangling.
A man seated one table over, he taps his foot, wipes his fingers with a paper napkin.
And slides a fancy card from a paper sleeve that advertises Deseret News,
studies the basket of roses on the front, then reads the message.

You have a pen? he asks, shrugging. Red faced.
I mean, can I borrow your pen?

I pass my pen, he nods, studies the card again.
Sucks on the end of my pen, then writes slowly, with deliberation.

He lowers his gaze and returns my pen, motions to the card.
My first one, he says, shrugs again. Valentine, I mean. Never had no cause for one before.

I nod.

For my wife. Our first one. I’m on my way home. It’s a surprise.
He stuffs the card into his duffel, steadies the duffel upon his back.

Thunderstorms have moved in from the north. Rain obliterates the view at Gate B13.
Another delay. We wait.
He stares at the window, clears his throat, checks the time.

I check the departure board. I check the time, too.

Valentine’s Day at the airport.