Prada Marfa
The story behind my fine art photographs of the Prada Marfa art installation.
The sun was starting its descent over the West Texas desert when I arrived at the iconic art installation outside Marfa. I'd been waiting for this moment for months—finally seeing this surreal storefront in the middle of nowhere, standing against the vast expanse of dry earth, brush, and the wide-open Texas sky. It’s the type of scene that feels almost like a mirage.
Prada Marfa - Valentine, Texas
But getting the shot wasn’t easy. The spot was bustling with visitors, as if everyone had the same idea to catch the place under the evening light. Each time one person walked out of the frame, two more seemed to wander in, admiring the shelves of carefully arranged handbags and shoes as if they’d stumbled upon a boutique on 5th Avenue instead of the dusty plains near Marfa.
I set up my camera, adjusting the composition as the sun cast long shadows across the ground. The air was warm, carrying a faint scent of dry earth and sage. There was a gentle breeze, just enough to keep the desert heat from being overwhelming. People chatted, laughed, and snapped their own photos, their voices mingling with the occasional rumble of cars on the highway.
Prada Marfa - Wide Version
Minutes ticked by, and the crowd barely thinned. The soft glow of the setting sun was slipping away, and I was running out of time to capture the golden light I’d envisioned. I took a deep breath and waited, watching the storefront and the people who kept wandering in and out of my shot. Patience was key, I reminded myself. Eventually, my chance came. The crowd drifted off to the side, giving me a rare, brief window of stillness. I framed the scene quickly and hit the shutter, capturing the storefront in all its isolated beauty.
Prada Marfa - Portrait Version
Standing there in the quiet that followed, I felt the allure of this place. It was more than just an art installation; it was a blend of high fashion and desolation, a strange juxtaposition that seemed to make a statement about luxury and wilderness, about something transient in a place that felt timeless.
As I packed up my camera, I took one last look at the surreal structure glowing under the soft hues of the desert sunset. This moment, like the setting sun, was fleeting, but I was grateful to have captured a piece of it.
The Blue Swallow Motel
The story behind this iconic image of The Blue Swallow Motel on Route 66 in Tucumcari, New Mexico.
After a long day of driving along the winding stretches of Route 66 from Albuquerque, photographing everything along the Mother Road, I arrived in Tucumcari, New Mexico, utterly exhausted. My destination: the iconic Blue Swallow Motel, its neon sign a beacon of nostalgia glowing in the desert night. Despite the fatigue pulling at every muscle, I had one goal in mind—capture this historic motel in a way no one had before.
The Blue Swallow Motel - Tucumcari, New Mexico
The night air was cool and dry, carrying the faint scent of sagebrush and asphalt. Route 66 stretched out like an old ribbon of memories, and the sounds of the Glenn Miller Orchestra played from a distant speaker. The neon lights of the motel flickered vibrantly, bathing the classic cars in the lot with a dreamy blue and pink glow.
Setting up my camera and tripod on the sidewalk, I framed the shot. The iconic sign, the vintage motel office, the dark sky stretching endlessly above—it all came together perfectly. But just as I leaned in to adjust the focus, headlights washed over the scene. My heart skipped. Someone was pulling into the lot, and toward me and my camera, quickly.
Thankfully, they saw me, and stopped in time. It turned out to be some fellow photographers, stopping to do the same thing I was.
I wasn’t about to let exhaustion or near misses stop me. With a few final adjustments, I snapped the shot. The neon lights glowed against the deep desert night, the colors vivid and surreal. I had captured it—the Blue Swallow in all its timeless beauty, glowing against the vast New Mexico sky. It was a dream realized, a piece of Route 66 history, forever frozen in time.
I packed up, had a nice chat with the proprietor, and checked into room #1 for the night. I got the best night's sleep I've had in a motel in many years.