The first time I was aware of "Dead Balloons" was on the Brooklyn Bridge, one night at dusk, walking to meet some friends who had never walked the Brooklyn Bridge.  They struck a deep chord in the part of me that is insatiably drawn to things in opposition, in this case fleeting moments of something that was clearly part of a celebration, not turning out as planned.  What was and now is.  Happiness and sadness all at once.  The impermanence of those moments, balloons bouncing around at a party, intended as memories forever emblazoned and etched in our history, only to have missed out completely.  Or some caring nostalgic soul was bringing them home to keep the spirit of the festivities alive.  The elation of being in transit to celebrate someone, the flurry of activity and then one turn the other way, grip lost and in an instant the universe steals the fleeting momenta.  Where were they headed, what was the celebration, did they make it and then get lost, or were they simply in transit never to arrive?  We will never ever know.  All that's barely left are the remains and they too will disintegrate.  Signs of both sadness and happiness.  The party went on with the balloons or without the balloons, they were maybe on their way to live out the aftermath of a celebration in a more intimate way.  The vibrations of the festivities taking on a new life, one forever changed because of an event, and settling back into life, as they slowly fade to their death. 

This is an ongoing project primarily shot with an iPhone.