The Poetry of the Sky

Photographing the sky seems so simple, yet it is a fluid, moving body. Edward Weston, writing about his 1923 Cloud Series stated, “Next to the recording of a fugitive expression, or revealing the pathology of some human being, is there anything more elusive to capture than cloud forms! … so swift and ephemeral, one can hardly allow the thought, 'Is this worth doing?' or, 'ls this placed well?’—for an instant of delay and what was, is not! I share Weston’s fascination and formal approach. However, I am more preoccupied with the sky itself, the spaces between the clouds. Sometimes the color is painfully blue. Sometimes jet trails paint straight white lines that turn into soft dissipating cotton. I find these marks across the sky beautiful, but they are also a constant reminder of the prevalence of CO2 emissions from aviation fuel. The dire consequences of climate change are being written in the sky. It is a very real, contemporary human dilemma. The sky is an always present yet constantly changing space. It is the breath of the planet, a highway for fortunate travelers, and a place for the dreams of wingless humans.