Dreaming of window seats and the fate of frequent fliers

There is something about air travel that excites me no matter the crowds, delays and lack of civil conditions it can now entail. My parents first took me around the world when I was barely 2 years old, and for most of my upbringing we were crisscrossing terminals and tarmacs. I feel as though the window seat, at 32,000 feet, is my home. So, anticipating an upcoming itinerary, I am drawn to collage and paint works that express the idea of my fate being entwined with flying.

Plane daydreaming

Sharp right turn (Landing in Saigon 1964)

Escaping one Miami for Paris

Ladies and children first, oxygen later