i've been on quite an adventure this past week and a half — a fantastic road trip through Nevaada, Utah, Arizona, the American South West.
we visited one of the most stunning, natural things i’ve ever seen in my life yesterday — Lower Antelope Canyon in Page, Arizona.
it’s a surreal place where the sandstone canyon walls have become waves; they're like a signature piece of art from the earth itself, achieved only through patience and time.
imprints from the past, woven through millennia of wind and erosion, sandstorms and desert rain, sudden and violent flash floods.
we climbed 130 feet down and into a slender canyon, stepping though a slight fissure in the desert sand — a mere crack, one that would be incredibly easy to miss if you were to walk past it, unaware.
it’s almost impossible to describe the canyone without standing in its presence — it’s as if a mould was somehow taken of a deep, rushing wave of water and captured in the rock itself, and all of the wave’s have been features frozen; the twisting flow, the up and down, sinuous, cresting wave; fingerprints of muddy desert water as it weaved and carved its way through the earth.
once inside the canyon itself, the sight is almost overwhelming. sunlight from the surface shines down through the tiny crack and bounces in myriad directions, casting impossible shadows every which way possible throughout the twisting cavern. it’s almost like a house of mirrors, full of illusions; corners aren’t corners, and what appears as a wall might simply be a shadow.
the curving walls are painted with impressionist strokes of deep reds, bright yellows and vivid oranges, mixed with hints of pinks and purples as they effortlessly swoosh and dance through the sandstone.
at its widest, the canyon is perhaps no bigger than a tiny room; at its thinnest, it’s no bigger than shoulder wide.
it’s hard for the human mind to perceive such a thing it’s never-before seen; it’s beyond comprehension. but in it’s presence, the wonder and awe of such a natural and psychedelic experience leaves a faint memory that only photos and imagination can ever rekindle.
all photos by brian thompson