Girl Who Travels

Travel Date: March 2025

In March 2025, we traveled to Chantilly, VA, to walk the hangars of the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center. Standing in the shadow of the Smithsonian’s most iconic giants, I was struck by a familiar, humbling juxtaposition: the infinite scale of the universe versus our own small place within it.

I’ve been captivated by space for decades, always chasing questions that have no easy answers. How vast is the “great beyond,” and what secrets will we uncover in our lifetime?

To me, these shots capture that exact tension—the awe of human achievement measured against the terrifying scale of the unknown. Looking at Discovery, I couldn’t help but reflect on the milestones we’ve witnessed, as well as the moments that broke our hearts, like the Mars rover’s final, lonely dispatch: “My battery is low, and it’s getting dark.” It leaves you wondering: in this vast expanse, what will we find next?

In the black-and-white close-up, I was struck by the “scars” on the fuselage. We often see the shuttle in polished NASA press photos, but up close, you see the scorching, the weathered tiles, and the grit of actual space travel. Stripping away the color forces you to focus on the geometry—the honeycomb of the ceiling and the massive, bell-shaped nozzles that pushed humans into orbit. It transforms a machine into a work of industrial art.

The second shot, looking down the nose of the shuttle, puts everything into perspective. You see the tiny silhouettes of visitors below, and you realize that this ship to the stars is both massive and fragile. Seeing it framed by the American flag and the satellite hanging above feels like a quiet tribute to the thousands of people who worked behind the scenes to ensure every launch was a success and every landing was a homecoming.