Aerial Views and Bravery: How Travel Inspires My Abstract Art
The first time I flew on an airplane, I was 20 years old, heading to Rhode Island to visit a college boyfriend. Flying felt monumental—a mix of excitement and terror. Growing up, I was afraid of so many things: the dark, school buses, dogs, even substitute teachers. By the time I boarded that plane I’d outgrown most childhood fears, but flying was still daunting.
I didn’t snap any photos on that first flight. My focus was survival, not the view. But over the years, something shifted. Stepping outside my comfort zone—whether it was tasting unfamiliar foods, navigating a foreign subway system, or just gazing out a plane window—began to feel less terrifying and more empowering.
I wasn’t raised in a traveling family. My childhood wasn’t filled with faraway ski trips, coastal vacations, or European adventures. My early experiences with travel—like a road trip to New York City and Washington, D.C. with a friend’s family—were exciting but tinged with homesickness and anxiety. At the time, venturing far from home seemed daunting, not liberating.
But life has a way of changing us. As my appetite for adventure grew, anxiety loosened its grip. I can’t pinpoint the moment I fell in love with aerial views—the patterns of rivers, roads, and fields seen from above—or when my fear of flying disappeared. I just know that every time I embraced life’s experiences rather than hiding from them, another piece of bravery was woven into my story.
How Aerial Views Inspire My Art
Today, the lines, shapes, and patterns inspired by aerial perspectives often appear in my paintings. Sometimes, they’re intentional; other times, they emerge naturally. For me, these elements symbolize more than topography—they represent the courage it took to step outside my comfort zone, over and over again.
Desert No. 2 / Prints available through Perigold
The Luxury of Time / Prints available through The Lifestyled Co
When I discovered that one of my favorite artists, Richard Diebenkorn, also used aerial views as inspiration for his work, I was thrilled. I wasn’t yet a painter when I first started collecting snapshots from window seats, but learning that Diebenkorn was inspired by these views too felt like a serendipitous connection—a shared perspective with someone whose work I deeply admire.