The Window in Your Dreams
Sometimes I see better when my eyes are closed.
In the depth and darkness of a late night in a hotel room, the dream of a picture will bubble to the surface. You remember frames and travels, things you missed, photos never realized, and pictures that call you back for unfinished business. Things that must be returned to and seen again. The feel of failure that must be assuaged.
Years ago, at the very end of 1985, prior to Super Bowl XX in New Orleans, Sports Illustrated dispatched me there to create a mood piece, a visual poem, to that grand, beautiful mess of a city. In magazine parlance, it’s referred to as a “walk-up,” a set of pictures that establishes the mood and flavor of the place where the big game was to ...
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