The Colorado River, seen from a helicopter above the Grand Canyon.

 

My mother saw the Grand Canyon while she and my father traveled from Boston to western Montana after World War II. It was a long-delayed honeymoon, and when she described the canyon afterward, she needed just one word: “Breathtaking.”

I understood what she meant when I first stood at the rim in 1973. The view seemed to go on forever, while the river that had shaped it was far below. I’ve returned to the canyon several times since, and that first feeling has never entirely left me.

On a more recent visit, my partner and I took a helicopter flight over the canyon. The aircraft had a glass front, so I could see ahead and down as we crossed the rim. From the air, the Colorado River became a winding line through broad layers of rock. It was a different way to grasp the scale of a place I thought I already knew.

Today’s photograph comes from that flight. I’m drawn to the river’s long curve and to the quieter colors of the rock around it. The canyon needs no added drama; its shapes tell the story.

I’ve recently revisited the photograph and prepared a new edition for my LightIntoArt shop. It is available as a photo paper print, canvas, three-panel canvas, metal, or acrylic, with the sizes shown in the listing.

See the Grand Canyon photograph on Etsy

Photograph and text by Bryan D. Spellman.