Azure

Azure is for the person who is for the person who spends most of the day meeting everyone else's expectations before they get to their own.
 
I made this at the very end of a long client shoot, once every photograph the brief required had already been taken, with dark clouds gathering at the edges of a sky already sliding toward dusk. Rather than pack up, I turned away from the obvious sunset and looked instead at two gum trees leaning into each other beside a small spring, with the Tallarook Ranges and Mount Piper rising behind them. My drone was already in the air. I wanted to know whether the coming blue light would flatten the landscape the way difficult twilight often does, or whether the day's last warmth, still caught in the dry grass, would hold through the change.
 
What I didn't expect was how much that decision felt like getting something back. I'd spent hours composing to someone else's requirements, working precisely rather than curiously, and the moment I turned my attention to the sky on my own terms, it was as though my own eye had simply been waiting, unused but intact, for permission to look again.
 
Azure is for the hours you spend meeting everyone else's brief before you get to your own. Let it hang somewhere you see at the end of a long day, and it will keep asking the same small, permitted thing of you each time: look up, and follow whatever you were curious about before the day interrupted you, even for five minutes.