Magical Skies, Albuquerque NM

I remember that day in Albuquerque like it was a dream painted in cobalt and coral. I found myself parked along a quiet stretch of track, the old brick tower of the former Glorieta Beer brewery rising beside me — its faded lettering still proclaiming “Home of Glorieta Beer” as if daring the desert winds to erase it. Above, the sky was an infinite canvas: deep, restless blue punctuated by great rolling clouds, their edges fraying into thin, wild strands that tore away like runaway threads in a tapestry.

Every click of the shutter echoed the paradox I felt: the solidity of man-made walls anchoring me, and the mercurial heavens pulling me outward.

Walking around that building, I felt the tension between permanence and flux. The brewery stood solid and silent, a testament to ambition long since distilled into memory, while the heavens overhead threatened to spill their secrets at any moment — those wispy offshoots of cloud dancing free from their massive brethren, scattering light and shadow in chaotic ripples. It was as though the sky itself refused boundaries, insisting on its own unruly poetry.

I struck up a conversation with a woman on her porch two blocks over — her name was Maria — and she told me how Albuquerque’s skies could shift in the span of a heartbeat, carrying monsoon promise or dust-laden thunder. As she spoke, I framed shot after shot, trying to bottle that wild serenity, that thrilling unpredictability. Every click of the shutter echoed the paradox I felt: the solidity of man-made walls anchoring me, and the mercurial heavens pulling me outward.

Later, gazing at the images, I realized what had drawn me so insistently to that old brewery under a frayed sky. It wasn’t just the contrast of brick and cloud, but the way both carried stories of endurance — one carved by human hands, the other shaped by unseen currents. Albuquerque showed me that permanence and chaos aren’t enemies but partners in a dance. In that interplay, I found a reminder: to seek stability in my work, yes, but never to fear the wild threads that break free. They’re what give every photograph, every moment, its breath and its boundless possibility.

Share the most memorable sky you’ve ever witnessed. Why did it move you so much?

— Lawrence

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