Working with a microscope over the last few years altered my perception of scale and distance, gave me a hint of the worlds within worlds that comprise our universe, and fostered a sense of place along the micro/macro continuum. With this series of aerial views I substitute a microscope lens with an airplane window. Looking out from an altitude of 35,000 feet, a winding river with tributaries could just as well be a microscopic view of veins and capillaries, roots, or the hair follicles of a bee. The images are printed small, 4.5 x 6 inches. Since the plane is moving so fast the view is constantly in flux - fractal patterns in one region yield to pure abstraction in another within a few seconds. I revel in the relativity of scale turned inside out as I pass a mountain smaller than my thumb. Compelled by the ongoing, exquisitely strange compositions down there, I’m aware that my untrained eye cannot always determine if what I’m looking at is the outcome of natural design, disaster, or desecration. As I ponder the myriad views between hither and yon, the monitor attached to the backside of the seat in front of me recalculates “distance to destination” every few moments. Destination takes on existential meaning. Directionality, light, purpose. Journey as liminal space. Journey as destination. The distance to destination will continue to decrease until the destination itself changes, or simply becomes a finer and finer point of view.