365 HIKES: EP1 by chris miele

Nothing but a winter illusion.  Riverfront, Detroit.


What began as a solution to cure my need for mental and physical exercise has morphed, shape-shifted, and forged into a commitment.  Ever seeking the magic of an experiment, I want to study the results of adhering to something simple and attainable, such as a daily hike.  From there I want to see how the chaos processor known as daily life influences the endeavor.  As any scientist working in their lab knows, accurate results are found by defining metrics, creating evaluations, and implementing variables.  Therefore I've crafted a project with these metrics: 365 hikes, each encompassing as least 1 mile in distance or 60 minutes in duration.  Evaluations prompting further stories will be monthly, and daily variables known as life will remain a constant.  Schedules will be set and broken, focus will strengthened, and stamina will be tested.  Habits, rituals, and diligence will all be redefined.  Can I do it?

 Measuring winter's angles of light transmission.  Downtown Detroit.

Measuring winter's angles of light transmission.  Downtown Detroit.

Leave the light on for guests.  North Corktown, Detroit.

 Our new backyard.  Corktown, Detroit.

Our new backyard.  Corktown, Detroit.


My choice of utilizing photography to make my living is as freeing as it is challenging.  Rewards such as open air offices can't be wasted.  Enjoying a fresh new desk space for the price of a cappuccino and cookie, those are the dividends of this lifestyle and further reasons why I'm committing to this project.  To take advantage of all the pleasantries that are balanced by the uncertainty of creating for a living.  Benefits that if squandered, could suppress chances for experimentation and growth.  Choose to capitalize and you've harnessed a tool to further sculpt what professional life IS and CAN be. 

 Always a great bounce card.  Corktown, Detroit. 

Always a great bounce card.  Corktown, Detroit. 


I've chosen not to restrict where this project will take me.  Everyday becomes a study of human existence where the senses are sharpened and each page turn feels incredibly brand new.  Weather is redefined as daily acclimation teaches you more about your human bag of bones than previously thought possible.  Stories unfold and themes surface; prompting the chance to jump further down the rabbit hole, or to zoom and focus elsewhere.  Ideas that seem murky upon inception will pass through the mind's sub-conscious filter daily, allowing for crystal clear downloads to be realized weeks or even months on.  Primitive lessons of our earthly existence; the sun's seasonal stance or the the moon's current phase, are reinforced everyday.  A master class in understanding the consciousness of day to day life, this will be a year well spent. 

Better A?

 Better B?

Better B?

Nice fade.  Southwest, Detroit.

1.1.18   -   1.14.18

Fall's Love Letter by chris miele

Early season simmer.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

I'll forever be a student of the seasons.

Sure, the autumnal equinox will always have the spectacal of color, but it's more than just splattered paint impressions on digital canvases.  Fall has a way of forcing us to recognize change, insisting that we notice the minuscule and overshadowed.  Our senses are called into duty and administered daily tests of their sharpness and awareness of the acute.  Your latitude dictates the timing and intensity of change, and in addition, your resilience to the physical world.  Summer days that linger too long burn, only to turn into apparitions of fog and steam by morning.  Sporadic rains teeter between the confusion of a thunderstorm and the party-crashing attitude of winter.  Invigorated, confused, or aggravated, regardless the reaction, it reminds you that you're alive.   

Liquid, laid out.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

Eight dollar oil painting.  Ligonier, PA.

Fall is when the subconscious rises from its sun baked slumber.

Patterns and rituals fall from the safety of closely guarded change.  Animals sense it long before you even start reaching for that extra wool jacket.  Airborne patterns of your favorite bird neighbors start showing signs of altered flights.  Bees and their furious pace slows to that of animatronics with temperature sensors, reacting in-sync with the newfound chill in the air.  Each morning, fresher than the last.


Rock hopping in the AM.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.


Sloping mountains making wonderful projection screens for the sun's late day rays.  Ohiopyle State Park, PA.

Ignore change, end up surprised by the inevitable.

I feel that we're far more primitive in our psyche than the over-abundance of technology will allow us to believe.  Greeting us through the curtains, the daylight often affects our brains deeper than we we chose to accept.  For some, that means that sunrise comes easier, and while almost welcomed, it's in that moment that pattern change begins.  Fighting through the urge to stay in, surrender becomes reward.  As the frigid air snaps you from the stupor of dawn, the trophy is unveiled as layers of frosted ground morph the visible realm into rivers of vapor. 

Watching wandering waves.  June Lake, CA.

Maple, glass, and oak.  Porltand, OR.

An early encounter with The Gorge.  Columbia River Gorge, OR..


Must we never forget about the light.

Placement on the globe certainly steers the ship of change, thus continuing to visit different latitudes for Fall has become a key research ingredient.  Popular scenes only become possible from key selections in time, often a seasonal change.   For some, power moments such as the sun's exit over the Pacific only comes into view in the fall.  Rivers breath breaths of relief as summer days dive into the depths of near freezing temperatures.  Experiencing the change is an exercise in awareness and patience, hopefully resulting in a spike in ones vitalty.  Luckily we get four chances a year to better understand it all. 

High autumn, high drama.  Santa Monica, CA.

Sum of all the parts  Sabrina Lake, CA.


Made possible by only the driest of October air.  A fovever favorite.  Devils Post Pile, CA.


The Global Eclipse Gathering: A Dance Between The Sun and Moon by chris miele


Anticipation. Hype. Tall tales. LORE!  The feelings proceeding the total solar eclipse of 2017 were a dense potion of all the above, plus a dusting of mystery induced anxiety.  Was it going to be like what we read?  Or just like what others said?  Could we really see the sun's explosive, life-spawning nuclear energy with our naked eyes?  Would the animals really shift their behavior out of acute nocturnal confusion?  A celestial event like none of us had experienced before, the eclipse had blossomed into a legend before it had even happened.   

Sunrise send-offs.

After five consecutive years we decided to forego our pilgrimage to Black Rock City and the dust of Burning Man for a different adventure.  Something that is experienced oh so rarely, a total solar eclipse.  For the first time in nearly 100 years a total solar eclipse was to be visible across the entire US.  And while the whole US could see the eclipse, only a small percentage could actually EXPERIENCE the eclipse and witness totality.  A tiny band of land merely 70 miles wide known as the path of totality is the only place where you can view the "total" portion of the eclipse, the part where the moon blocks out the sun in ENTIRETY.  Thanks to a collaboration between dozens of international festival organizers, The Global Eclipse Gathering had been in planning for years and their mission was to create a monumental gathering, directly in the path of totality.  Tucked away deep in the remote high plains of Central Oregon, they had found a way to place us directly within the path of totality.  Oh how lucky we were for their efforts...

Treehouses and fairy-tales awaited.

Pros only, obviously.

The festival stew had been simmering and all the ingredients were just right. 

Remote location, ground rumbling stages, large interactive art, and hoards of people from all over the globe.  Australia, London, New Zealand, all converging to witness something that defied explanation and reality.  Together.  Estimates were in the 35k realm and yet the crowd still felt intimate.  Aiding to the potency of the week was no cell service.  No excuses or easy way outs from interacting with your fellow human, it was blissfully beautiful. 

Children of the light, children of the night. 

When the earth rumbles, follow your frequency. 

She saw bubbles...  Moth. To. A. Flame.  

In case you ever forget.

Camp meditations and messages.

Seven nights of the Moon Stage.  I could handle more. 


With the festival beginning on Wednesday and the eclipse happening Monday morning, pacing and preparation were vital.  Sunday night meant no sleep, I couldn't take the chance of a poorly timed nap ruining the main act.  With the cumulative festival energy buzzing at an 11 Sunday night, there was no excuse not to be wiggling and grooving away those late night hours anyway.  For the duration of the night I hauled my gear, packed food, and heckled friends about making camp runs.  We were committed to sunrise and rode the wave of anticipation into the eclipse. 

 The sun's greeting on eclipse morning. 

The sun's greeting on eclipse morning. 

The Sun Temple swollen with people ready to stare down the sun.  Don't forget your glasses kids!

As the eclipse approached, the migration began to the Sun Temple and the high hill top viewing zone.  In droves we marched to the area designated to view and experience the celestial dance together.  It was here that we experienced not just the eclipse, but were privileged to part of an indigenous ceremony.  Native tribes from all over the world were taking turns on the microphone sharing stories of what an eclipse meant to their people while offering prayers, songs, gifts, and blessings.  With chills of joy running down our spine and tears of gratitude caressing our face, it became crystal clear we were bearing witness to something so much larger than we could understand.   

The "purple shade" had begun to fall bringing a quality of light none of us had experienced before. 

Drinking the delightful tonic of anticipation and uncertainty.




Once the moon covers more than half of the sun, the temperature starts dropping, and keeps dropping.  Alien ambient light is accompanied by temperatures nearly 20 degrees less than just moments before.  There's no denying the mounting energy happening overhead.  In every direction the horizon deepens in unfamiliar pigments and hues.  With proper eye-wear you can see the moon swallowing the sun by the minute.

 Merely second away from transmission. 

Merely second away from transmission. 




Words for this ripple in time are still sparse as it was an experience of pure, raw emotion.  An hour of building anticipation finally climaxes as the sun is instantly reduced to a glowing ring.  The "snap" into totality is so abrupt that you're instantly rocketed out of the reality you knew.  Your naked eye is rewarded with a sensation that is nothing short of primal.  Gasps, tears, shouts, unabashed exhalations filled the air.  Pure magic that had taken over the earth.


In a quest to better understand what happened that week, I asked my dear friend Eliana Shapiro to help decode the messages unveiled in the shadows.  Here are her words -

"The Global Eclipse Gathering was medicine: pure, euphoric, medicine.

It was a pivotal offering of sacred divinity to unsheathe the shrouded, and transmute the infinite. A potent soufflé of tangible and intangible energies that gently permeated our monkey minds and corporeal hides: allowing for big momma magic to engage the spirit and transform the soul.  And we called it in: that cosmic, persuasive, power which transpired on those holy Oregon lands. It was alive in our commitments to ascend on the unknown, it was vibrant in our gatherings and preparation, and it was pulsating amid the collaboration of communal exhibition. We were in: all in, and our efforts produced value that monetary confinements could never contain.  We departed on a robustly energetic ricochet that fiercely propelled each of us onward, and we carried with us freshly uncovered tools and illuminated lessons to unravel on top of our own summits.  And while it is true that the dichotomy of the moon eclipsing the sun resulted in ecstatic bliss, it would be more accurate to illustrate the whole gathering as an all-inclusive retreat of integrated blessedness. Whilst the assertive solar flares were held with love by the lucid contemplation of our moon, we too felt the calling. We sensed the energetic summoning to embrace the healed divine masculine in all of us, as our divergent feminine tenderly snakes itself to center stage. What we felt in that moment was completeness, oneness. We were one with our universe, one with each other, and one with ourselves. Wholly aligned. Undoubtedly united. Certifiably eclipsed."

- Eliana Shapiro

The diamond ring and the final seconds as the moon completes is dance with the sun.


Perspectives: Not To Scale by chris miele

We see you Channel Islands.  Los Angeles, CA.

Feeling small can be the best feeling.

Grand views, infinite horizons, and specks of humanity speak to the soul, and I love seeking them out.  There's something about standing on the edge of a cliff or at the bottom of a canyon that shrinks even the most massive of thoughts.  Swimming in the vastness of reality, both physically and mentally, can have a profound effect on humans.  Understanding we are but a blip on the universal radar can be hard to grasp, but it's an ever evolving theme in my work. 

California in its most rare form: LUSH.  Topanga, CA.

Warm up wander.  Page, AZ.

Sunset send offs.  Venice, CA.

Emptiness means different things to different people.  For some the solitude speaks serenity, for others it incites irrational instability.  While the psychology differs, the visual experience remains paramount for me.  Watching people from a distance interacting with the world slows down the pace of a reality that's often on hyper speed.  Subtleties become the sublime, moments linger monumentally, and life gains longevity.   

Careful foot placement is key.  Rincon Beach, CA.

Off the top.  Rincon Beach, CA.

Classic Queen of the caost view.  Rincon Beach, CA.

Translating scale determines how you translate reality. 

Often I hear people talking about how their photos don't represent "how it looked."  While this is often a valid and common problem among shutter snappers both seasoned and amateur, I've learned it's about representing HOW IT FELT.  That's the challenge, conveying grandeur, expansiveness, and infinity.  Understanding the relationship between where we stand and what we view, that's what effects how we interpret reality.  Exploring these thoughts through a lens cements the scale and thus the message; no matter how big you may feel, we're all but miniature marching ants. 

A break in the ascension.  Topanga, CA. 

Family smiles among the cacti.  Tuscon Mountain Park, AZ.

I prefer when the horizon looks more like a portal and less like a boundary.  Los Angeles, CA.

Mini tanker.  Los Angeles, CA.

Hill climb just in time.  Tucson Mountain Park, AZ.

Please Do Touch: Meow Wolf by chris miele

It's OK, look directly at the light...  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

They all said "Don't miss Meow Wolf."

Maybe it was the brightly colored neon sign or the the perfectly styled letters, but from the first glance we knew something magical was hidden inside Meow Wolf's white adobe abode.  Throughout the years we've been spoiled with heaps of interactive art experiences from attending events like Burning Man and Symbiosis, but seldom seen are those types of works elsewhere .  That notion was shattered once we stepped foot into Meow Wolf's inaugural installation 'The House Of Eternal Return.'  From the moment they hand over your wristband it's clear that this experience is unique.  Admission is valid all day allowing for breaks, re-entry, and ample time to explore. 3-D glasses were available for a single dollar, a nice addition to amplify the colors and dimensions that await. Stepping through the doors and hearing haunting instructions via intercom is surreal and sets the sci-fi tone.  Over 100 artists collaborated to created the alien labyrinth that's overwhelmingly meticulous and mysterious. Every corner begs to be explored for secret passageways, hidden clues, and well placed interactions.  We hadn't even made it past the main room and we were already floored with excitement and intrigue.


Portal #09594.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

 Give it a good push.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Give it a good push.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

This is a place where you must touch, EVERYTHING.

It'd be easy to assume that the creators had envisioned a narrow, targeted audience, but that couldn't be further from the truth.  Children of all ages were wandering through the various rooms as their parents and even grandparents followed, all equally stimulated from exploring and discovering their surroundings.  Frankly I couldn't recall the last time I had seen such a variety of age brackets equally engaged in an experience.  It was an incredible achievement, art that created real inclusion.  Each turn made was a blastoff to another dimension, all stranger and deeper than the last.  Glowing mushrooms played musical notes when touched, opening refrigerator doors led to alien laboratories, and dark corridors rewarded you with interactive light installations.  No wonder re-entry is permitted and encouraged, the constant discovery was mentally exhausting. 


LASER HARP!!!  Yes a laser harp!  As if I needed anymore reasons to spend all my time under lasers.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.


Don't be afraid, certainly do activate and enter.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

 The Burning Man similarities were off the chart, but it was extra re-affirming to see this playa veteran holding down Meow Wolf's exterior picnic area.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

The Burning Man similarities were off the chart, but it was extra re-affirming to see this playa veteran holding down Meow Wolf's exterior picnic area.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

 Portal pod, who know where it'll take you.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Portal pod, who know where it'll take you.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Fish tank perspectives.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Heavy on the side eye.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Take a seat, stay awhile, and erase your mind.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Get lost, it'll serve you well.

Thankfully we had no expectations because an afternoon spent wandering this otherworldly place shattered anything we could have imagined.  The passion that's been poured into this project is overwhelmingly apparent, and perhaps that's what makes it truly so special.  The artists responsible for Meow Wolf have been creating spaces together for nearly a decade and witnessing their biggest accomplishment yet is beyond inspiring.  Meow Wolf allows your inner child to play while igniting your adult mind, a combination that's priceless.  

 When walls give you wings.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

When walls give you wings.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

 Magic markers.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.

Magic markers.  Meow Wolf. Santa Fe, NM.