I remember the first time I spotted the sand dune driving into Palm Springs from Los Angeles, exiting the 10 onto Hwy 111. I glanced right, saw the mountains, and there it was: a massive dune, glowing like a mirage. I thought, How do I get there? Twenty minutes later, I was crawling under an overpass, ducking barbed wire, hiking toward it like a pilgrimage site.

The wind was already staging its own performance—fabric lifting, shadows stretching, the desert rehearsing something ancient and electric.

That’s where this series begins. Not just with wind, but with effort. With voltage. With the body as conductor.

In the Coachella Valley, wind is more than weather. It’s energy. It’s choreography. The turbines spin like ritual guardians—not just generating power, but creating dreams.
Each figure is a live wire—sometimes grounded, sometimes surging.

This is not a study of wind.
It’s a page of elemental transmission.

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