The airport:

A waiting zone of life.

A treasure trove for people watchers. ​

A concentrated collection of interactions and emotions, as humanity moves in globular masses –- fast ... slow ... and fast again - with gaps of empty space in between.

People of all ages, shapes and statures.. grabbing a bite, working, arguing, loving, hugging, fighting, swiping, scrolling and sleeping.  The oddity that is the human animal -- with places to be and people to see.  People like me... watching while waiting - at least for moments at a time.  On longer layovers I wonder about, eat, rest, or in this case, pull my camera out.  Most of what I see are faces glued to cell phones and other screens; one can't blame another for that.  Many, including myself, use the time to catch up on work... or doom scroll.  Taking out the camera, however, and focusing on specific instances, unravels another world within the confines of the airport.  I see a mother loving up on her baby, a woman in tears on the phone, a guy carrying his dog across the speed-walk, another man playing guitar for the people at gate 15.  

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An abundance.​  Exhilaration.  

For a photographer, the airport provides so many of these moments.  Maybe too many.  Or moments that are too personal.  Should I take a picture of the woman crying while on the phone?  I feel bad, but it's also intriguing... compelling.  I want to know why she's crying and there's a natural urge to comfort someone in distress.  What are the boundaries and when should they be implemented?  I always want to respect a person's space and will more often than not, ask permission, but street photography so often calls for snapping the photo at the exact moment it presents itself.  Shoot now, ask questions later doesn't always feel great, as it's inherently intrusive, but that's the nature of photography... a voyeuristic endeavor.  For me, this conversation, internally and externally, is perpetual.​

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​​Some of these faces I swear I've seen before.  Maybe I have... either in this life or another.  Or maybe I have seen one or some of them before and I just so happen to come across them again on this cosmic ferris wheel.  Sometimes I'll see a person that resembles someone I know or have known in my personal life.  In my head I'll say... "it's my own personal version of so-and-so."  It's an odd feeling because it's sorta nostalgic, but also unfamiliar and brings on whatever memories I have of whichever person they remind me of.  Weird stuff for sure, but I'm sure it's a universal occurrence.

 

 

 

 

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There are infinite stories within the bodies... the lives.. that roam these waiting zones; as is the case for any place where people gather.  The energy of an airport is unique, however.  We'll all be tens of thousands of feet in the air, moving at hundreds of miles per hour, mere moments after spending time in this liminal space.  The time waiting around and doing whatever it is we're doing seems simultaneously precious and meaningless, as we'll be just a few inches from the chaotic turbulence of a seemingly rapid, or not so rapid end.  But, what is it they say... you're more likely to die on the way to the airport than in a plane crash.  Hopefully this is true, cause I don't mind spending time there... sometimes sharing a few words with a fellow traveler or two.... learning about where they come from and what they're up to...

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7-13-26