The slow disappearance of the Salton Sea has moved dramatic art pieces, like this tetrahedron that once rose mysteriously from the water, onto a broad expanse of beach where some of their magic evaporates with the sea.
HDR Photography
The slow disappearance of the Salton Sea has moved dramatic art pieces, like this tetrahedron that once rose mysteriously from the water, onto a broad expanse of beach where some of their magic evaporates with the sea.
When I added the “Ω” to the title of this image, I imagined endings across multiple dimensions of time: Certainly, a sunset is the end of a day, but I was also thinking on the longer scale of how the slow march of evaporation and desert climate are continuously shrinking the Salton Sea. In a more personal sense, this was likely to be my last visit to the Sea—at least in anything like its current state. All of those combined finalities made this one worthy of being the omega.
Hartford was thrown into an apocalyptic atmospheric condition this week, and while wildfire smoke is terrible for our community’s health, it makes for some bonkers pictures. At 1:00 PM, we were thrown into orange shade.
Even sheltering indoors, the seeping yellow light was inescapable through skylights and windows.
While my past approach to photography through aircraft windows was focused on avoiding distracting reflections, the realness of the Artemis II photos—specifically those with astronauts’ hands and faces reflected in spacecraft windows—made me appreciate how the nature of our relationship with Earth though technology can be conveyed. The drama of the American West is more impressive when it’s clear what altitude allowed us to visualize it.