Small moments surprise on the South Platte, like this bird resting on a rock. The bird's poise in the middle of the river seems a simple architecture of natural balance in contrast to the big city behind.
The South Platte River snakes through metro Denver. Bike paths flow along side it and in the downtown area there are access points for play, like these children are. One imagines that the river goes by often unnoticed, as it streams along I-25 competing with traffic, then pass as it does through the industrial parts of the city. All the while it brings a greenish, faintly brackish water from far up the mountains into the city; really it brings something of the mountains and wild Colorado through Denver: it's refreshing, rushing at times, a recollection of the potency of nature as it tours the urban areas and moves northward out of town.
The civic landscape is organized, planned; there's housing, transportation, events; there's a kind of security in it all, maybe just from all the proximity a city brings. But the landscape is also a kind of organized chaos if you choose to view it that way, where shapes and forms, color and light constantly reshape and recast the environment into something abstract with its own drama, coincidence, humor, intimacy, loneliness and compression, too. This photograph for me plays with those themes and I especially like the inevitable reference to the great coliseums of history and the way the most massive structures here in black press upon this new coliseum.