Parallax is a series of images made while traveling the eastern half of America working as a camera operator for an aerial survey company. 

Spending up to ten hours hours flying a day, one experiences a shifting of perspective. In flight, the landscape quickly becomes an object amending into division - seen from the ground in layers and detail, then from above, as flat and broad. We never see the images or how they're used, but we're told that the images' quality is so high that one pixel is equivalent to two centimeters on the ground. Printed at full quality, the image could cover the entire area photographed. The image is more real than we can fully comprehend. 

In addition to this directional shift in perspective is also a location shift as we land in small airports across the eastern half of the US. The rural, urban, and suburban areas start blend together, further confusing the subject-object relation as the familiarity with a town without context (sometimes forgetting what state you're in) seemingly floats in a void. This division, rather than creating a synthesis, or a more complete view of the world, further complicates it. Communicating our lack of ability to fully grasp the Real. 

“HERE’S WHAT I KNOW:

I’D RATHER BE IN THE GAME

THAN ON THE SIDELINES”

yells the man on the mounted tv,

facing four men in US army uniform,

one throwing popcorn into his mouth.

Driving, talking to the camera mounted

where the rear view mirror would be,

it’s the last chance to sign up for the seminar.

Free book “Millionaire Success Habits” by Dean Graziosi.

“Now if you see the Walmart, you done gone too far.”

The chain stores, gas stations, grocery stores, banks, restaurants, aren’t for the human.

The automobile, the smartphone, the credit card, are the new man.

Walking is for the hungry.

The aging man in a baggy neon blue shirt needs six dollars on his visa gift card.

We are naked next to the others, covered by their tinted windows, air conditioned interiors,

Unaware that for the first time in years, I am not hungry.

Running across the four lane road, no crosswalk, I only wish to get to cvs.

I wonder how many strip clubs are in dry counties.

“...history is unobservable…”