These are some photos of the ocean. They were taken somewhere between London and New York, 500 miles south of Greenland and two and a half miles above the ocean floor.

It looks like it goes on forever. I look out at it and think how I as a species do not belong here. It’s like being in space. If I got out of this tiny capsule, this boat, I would die. When I look into the big empty ocean I often have the impulse to throw things in. I had the same feeling when I went to the Grand Canyon. That impulse is more strongly heard in direct correlation to the value of what I’m holding at the time. The more valuable, the more I think about throwing it in and how awful it would be, how far it would sink. I shot a bunch of seascapes with the Hasselblad and the impulse to throw the camera over was just thrumming. I dread the thought of carrying a child along those edges.

Here, as a palate cleanser to those huge expanses of ocean, are some tiny channels. Water forced into lines. When I see them I often think of the not-so-savory things that the human species does in this world; the destruction of wetlands from draining canals, the hydropower dams that threaten the fish life of the rivers they block and chill, but after the Atlantic, there’s something cozy about them. You don’t scare me nature. The Army Corp of Engineers will keep you in line… most of the time.

Prints available here.