As a starting point, taking the literal definition of a landing, ‘something that returns to ground’. I began conceptualising the idea that we have two choices in life- after ‘take-off’, some of us choose to keep flying and stay in the clouds, choosing ignorance, with the thought that it’s safer not to confront certain pieces in our lives, to put ourselves above certain things- the idea that being up there, unwanted thoughts, voices- the ones that still lurk way down, that follow us from our past experiences and past lives, are soundproofed by the clouds. 
Alternativly, we can make the conscious decision to ‘return to ground’, knowing we can’t go back, knowing that there are the ugliest of confrontations to come, perhaps we locked those things away, so we don’t quite remember how bad it ever was, but this allows us to take this leap- a leap that ironically leads us to a less turbulent state. 

I wanted to explore what that journey looks like and to pinpoint some sort of peak or threshold we reach, in order to decide to make this journey.
I see the viewpoints as sky and ground. Looking from the ground, up, symbolises looking to the past. My initial visualisations were earth, soil, haze not blur, and gritty vision. Some sort of disruption, like a growing plant being pulled from the roots- disrupting its intended course. I see the journey as if you were hit in the face with talcum powder- the newborn smell is nostalgic, bringing you back to childhood, but its texture is uncomfortable, it makes you cringe. If you inhale it you choke, it’s distressing, yet soft, and strips you of impurities all at the same time.