Wings and Wheels

My father always said that his daughters were born with wings and wheels on their asses. It is true; I resemble that statement.

When I was little, my mother, my siblings and I would go on impromptu road trips. I so wanted to love the adventures of running away to my aunt and uncle’s in Minnesota in the middle of the night or to my other aunt’s apartment in the – always exciting – city of Sioux Falls. However, I knew that we were not running to an exotic destination but rather from the reality of our own home. Eventually my dad sobered up, my parents figured it out and we no longer took regular “time-out” trips. However, the need to change my scenery in order to fill my creative coffer or to straighten my spiritual path has remained a necessity.

I love to walk, run, drive and fly…alone. Life is so simple when I am driving on south on I29 to Haymarket Park in Lincoln or east on I90 to Chicago. Whether I am power walking around Ottertail Lake or on a run from Washington Heights to Chelsea Piers, I finish feeling refreshed and full.

I took this photo of a homeless man whose entire life is on four wheels . He is waiting to cross traffic on the corner of Bleeker and Bank in the West Village. What I love about the shot is the organization and patience that radiates from the shot. Here is a man who – seemingly – has nothing but it is All delicately afloat four small casters.

However, all I can see is the freedom of the wheels, the serenity of knowing where he came from, and the balance of his belongings.