FORBIDDEN FRUIT
I'm in love with this aircraft. Not just the H-21, but this specific airframe. It's in a far corner of the restoration yard at the Pima Air and Space Museum, and it's the aircraft I find myself wanting to photograph more than any other bird they have on display there. Unfortunately, since it's in the restoration yard, it's off-limits to the public, and ESPECIALLY off-limits during the night photoshoots we're lucky enough to occasionally have out there.
I used to hate photographing derelict or stored aircraft. "Dead airplanes bum me out" was my rationale.
When you look at an in-service aircraft, you see a living, breathing machine. You see vitality and capability. You see fresh paint and even fresher oil stains underneath it. You smell all the smells of an aircraft in the prime of its life - oil, metal, rubber, and holy crap the jet fuel. At least for me, I'm too busy be awestruck by everything that a modern aircraft is right at this moment to think about what it has done or who has flown it.
With a 'dead' aircraft, there's nothing but memory. They're still impressive, especially considering some of the limitations designers and manufacturers faced in terms of contemporary design standards and material sciences and powerplant technology. Yes, they're impressive, but it's not immediate.
I don't know what it is about this H-21, but I look at it and I get contemplative. I think about whether any of the silver-haired Air Force veterans who flew or crewed this aircraft are still alive, and if they are, if they ever think about it. Like, when was the last time anyone asked them what they flew? Do they still have start-up and shut-down procedures committed to memory? Where did their careers go after the H-21 was retired? Did they stay in the Air Force? Did they fly professionally as civilians? Did they ever fly at all ever again? Whenever they hear a helicopter, do they close their eyes and imagine their days cruising over a beach or through a mountain pass in an H-21, wishing they could experience that feeling all over again?
I look at this old, broken, rusted hulk of a helicopter, and I want to know how it lived and about the men who gave it life.
And damn do I ever want to take its picture.
FORBIDDEN FRUIT
I'm in love with this aircraft. Not just the H-21, but this specific airframe. It's in a far corner of the restoration yard at the Pima Air and Space Museum, and it's the aircraft I find myself wanting to photograph more than any other bird they have on display there. Unfortunately, since it's in the restoration yard, it's off-limits to the public, and ESPECIALLY off-limits during the night photoshoots we're lucky enough to occasionally have out there.
I used to hate photographing derelict or stored aircraft. "Dead airplanes bum me out" was my rationale.
When you look at an in-service aircraft, you see a living, breathing machine. You see vitality and capability. You see fresh paint and even fresher oil stains underneath it. You smell all the smells of an aircraft in the prime of its life - oil, metal, rubber, and holy crap the jet fuel. At least for me, I'm too busy be awestruck by everything that a modern aircraft is right at this moment to think about what it has done or who has flown it.
With a 'dead' aircraft, there's nothing but memory. They're still impressive, especially considering some of the limitations designers and manufacturers faced in terms of contemporary design standards and material sciences and powerplant technology. Yes, they're impressive, but it's not immediate.
I don't know what it is about this H-21, but I look at it and I get contemplative. I think about whether any of the silver-haired Air Force veterans who flew or crewed this aircraft are still alive, and if they are, if they ever think about it. Like, when was the last time anyone asked them what they flew? Do they still have start-up and shut-down procedures committed to memory? Where did their careers go after the H-21 was retired? Did they stay in the Air Force? Did they fly professionally as civilians? Did they ever fly at all ever again? Whenever they hear a helicopter, do they close their eyes and imagine their days cruising over a beach or through a mountain pass in an H-21, wishing they could experience that feeling all over again?
I look at this old, broken, rusted hulk of a helicopter, and I want to know how it lived and about the men who gave it life.
And damn do I ever want to take its picture.