I had been having a rough time, so I went looking for something that might make me happy for a little while.

That search brought me to the Suncook Valley Rotary Hot Air Balloon Rally in Pittsfield, New Hampshire. Surrounded by spectators waiting for enormous balloons to rise into the morning sky, I created this self-portrait: a solitary astronaut lifted above the crowd by a small collection of brightly colored balloons.

The figure appears weightless, but not entirely free. Below, life continues normally. People gather, watch and document the spectacle while a full-size balloon rises behind them. Above it all floats an anonymous traveler—separated from the crowd, suspended somewhere between escape and vulnerability.

The image began as a personal attempt to find a brief moment of wonder. Then something unexpected happened. It spread rapidly throughout New Hampshire, appeared on WMUR television and became an extended topic of conversation on Rock 101’s Greg & The Morning Buzz. Listeners debated what they were seeing, whether it was real and why an astronaut had appeared above a balloon festival.

For a short time, a private expression of loneliness became a shared mystery.

That transformation is central to the work. The astronaut has always represented isolation, grief, curiosity and survival—but here, loneliness becomes public. The figure is surrounded by hundreds of people and yet remains unreachable, drifting above them in plain sight.

Sometimes happiness does not arrive as a permanent state. Sometimes it is a strange, colorful thing that finds you for only a moment, lifts you slightly above the weight of your life and gives everyone below a reason to look up.