Had a busy morning, working on several concepts and assignments.
When I was a kid in the fifties I remember looking over the dash of my father's car and seeing these weird, distorted shapes that floated in the air on the horizon. When we got closer these shapes turned into cars and came blasting past us. Whenever I see those highway heatwaves on a long stretch of two-lane blacktop, it takes me back to early Arizona when all the roads rippled and bent into crazy contortions.
Speaking of contortions, I am knee deep into Van Goghland again, working on images for the March issue. I'm working from a known photograph of Rene Secretan as an old man: