I had the privilege of watching NASA's Space Shuttle Endeavour on its final flight before retirement. While I normally leave my narration and commentary out on this blog, I wanted to share my experience and talk about the images themselves just a little. Before landing at LAX, Endeavour was scheduled to do a fly-over at a number of Los Angeles locations, not the least of which being Griffith Observatory, near my house. Some friends and I hiked up, avoiding the traffic and parking issues many people dealt with. When we got up there, it was the most crowded I have ever seen the lawn. People of all ages were everywhere. As the moment of the fly-over drew near, you could feel the anticipation in everyone's faces. It was first spotted far over Culver City, but even that glimpse drew gasps and moved the crowd west. Then, it crossed to the east, still far away, and low. It did a fly-by that was barely visible to us, just tucked between the Observatory itself and the trees, then disappeared. There was a collective sigh that perhaps this was it. The moment was over. Then a man stood at one ledge of the roof with a megaphone. The first sound out of that megaphone left the crowd deathly quiet in a way that was quite staggering. A crowd that large, instantly silent. He announced that Endeavour had deviated from the original flight plan, and the staff had no idea where it was headed or if/when it might return. People were disappointed, but the man said he believed it would return. So everyone waited, some people scampering around to vie for better viewing spots. A friend and I went back down the trail a little bit to an area where the view would be better, more wide open. Just as we got below, the crowd cheered; the shuttle was coming back around from the west. I poised with my camera for what I thought was a better, and only, chance at a good image. I snapped a few as the modified Boeing, Shuttle, and two fighter jet escorts flew overhead. It was thrilling. But that wasn't it. The shuttle then flew over the Hollywood sign, and swooped around for another fly-over. In fact, it did a total of three passes, each time coming so close to us. There wasn't a single unsmiling face. It is rare that such a significant event occurs, and that it occurs to a sufficient degree that everyone experiencing it is satisfied by its length. Usually we are forced to reflect on moments, sometimes wishing they might have been different, or longer. But with three flights, we had plenty of time to enjoy the spectacle and drink it in with our eyes and cameras. Later, after I got home, I started to review the photos I'd taken. Many of them were more usable than I'd expected, and a few I was very excited about. But there was something not quite right about them - despite the clarity of the images, the size of the shuttle in them, they didn't seem to capture the feeling of awe, inspiration, pride and excitement I'd felt. And then I realized why. The most exciting images to have come from NASA, for me, are all antiquated. They were all shot on film, some of them in black-and-white. Attached to them for me is a feeling of nostalgia, of wishing I could have been there, of feeling like those moments were firmly planted in history. My photos, while they looked much better than snapshots, didn't have that feeling. And no amount of retouching seemed to be helping. But then I decided to see them with grain and in black-and-white. Traditionally, I make no effort to make my digital photos look like film and vice versa. But grainy black-and-white, with specific filter control, for me lends these images the austerity, timelessness, and gravity that match the experience and how I think that experience deserves to be conveyed and shared. The image I chose for the title image, which I shared again without text, makes me feel melancholy and proud all at once. I'm not a particularly patriotic person, but watching the shuttle fly off with those clouds behind it makes me proud to have been somehow a part of the program that gave it flight. It's not just about being an American. It's about being a human being who cares about exploration, about learning, and about transcending the boundaries laid out before us. I included the image of the moon in color to remind us that today we all stare up at the same night sky that our ancestors did, just as the first humans who ever dreamed of going there did. There are so many of us across borders that we feel divide us. Together, perhaps we could one day create a new program meant to take humans to the far reaches of time and space, and revive in humanity the drive to press onwards and upwards, outwards. Into the great beyond. (to see more images, please visit their Flickr set)