Jets are meant to fly.

During the COVID pandemic, they were parked.

Five years ago today, I released They Will Fly Again, a photo essay about the parked planes of the pandemic.

Really, the idea for They Will Fly Again was no different than what so many were asking themselves during the early days of the pandemic: “how can I help?”

My yoga instructor friends were doing video sessions for free, famous chefs were cooking from home and delivering their dishes to customers, and bored people were fighting over toilet paper at supermarkets for some reason.

I wasn’t a yoga instructor, nor a chef, and I had plenty of toilet paper, so what could I do?

I had seen reports of American jets being parked at PIT.  I reached out to a connection I had there, trying to get on the ground to take photos of the jets.  Why photos of such a depressing event?  Looking back all these years later I’m still not sure, but I thought it was something worth documenting and that there was beauty to uncover from the symmetry and sheer scale of all those jets.  To try to find beauty in the dark moments of an industry that impacted so many people.  It’s a story I wanted to tell

One thing was certain, though: none of the airlines wanted photographers near their jets.  The airports they were parked at complied with their wishes, and I felt stuck…until I remembered that airlines don’t control the air above those airports.

I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to document something that will never happen again.  Not just to document it, but to use all of my talents and resources to try and make it beautiful when the world needed a little beauty.

For some of the photos it was the sheer number of the jets parked seemingly on top of each other.

For other photos it was the juxtaposition of a massive jet parked over the skidmarks left by its own tires when it landed there.

As I said at the time, it was also a tribute to the hard work of airline ground crews to find places to store and maintain these jets.  They found answers to questions that had never been asked before.

Still others explored the irony of American widebody jets grounded next to American 737 Max 8s, which were grounded for a completely different, yet equally tragic, reason in the aftermath of the 2018 and 2019 crashes.

I knew the photos were solid and was very proud of them, but I was still nervous to hit the Publish button.  Would the airlines feel like I was rubbing it in?  Would I be hurting my friends who worked in the industry by reminding them of the tumultuous times they were in?

I just didn’t know how the project would be received and if my vision would be understood.  Shortly after hitting Publish, I got a simple email, paraphrased below:

Andy,

I landed one of those JetBlue jets in your photos.  Crazy seeing so many that joined it.  Thank you for the photo project, it’s cathartic for me and gives me something to point at when friends and family ask me how bad this thing is.  Stay healthy!

It gave me immediate relief.  The vision came through.  Thousands of comments followed across social media, millions of views, and my first-ever feature in my local newspaper.

But there’s something I never wrote in the story, or any of the follow-up posts afterward: the project wasn’t finished.  I told myself that the project would end in five years on May 5, 2025.  I figured whatever this thing was would hopefully run its course by then and it would be interesting to take a look back, no matter where I was in the world.

Today is May 5, 2025.

It had to finish the way it started: boarding a Robinson R44 helicopter with the doors removed.  Boarding the helicopter felt normal and brought back wonderful memories of the friends and family members who came with me on the They Will Fly Again flights.

We took off and the feeling was familiar, but the scenery was not.  I was no longer flying over Dallas, Texas.  One of the first places we flew was to have a quick look at my apartment building on Manly Beach in my new hometown of Sydney, Australia.

I’m not sure the Andy sitting in those helicopters five years ago ever imagined he’d be living in Australia now.

But this wasn’t the grand finale.  Just a stop along the way.  How about stopping by one of the greatest harbours in the world on our way?

Now, it needs to be said that the original They Will Fly Again flights were relatively easy to plan and execute.  Since almost no jets were departing, we were welcomed with open arms at normally busy airports like DFW and IAH.

As we approached Sydney Airport, it was clear the grand finale would be a little different.  Oscar, our pilot, worked with an accommodating (thankfully) group at air traffic control to get us into the flow of traffic and where I wanted to go.

We arrived and it was time for the grand finale of They Will Fly Again.  The emotions came rushing back.

Just how I had planned, an Emirates A380 came in to land, and we were in the perfect position for it.

Air traffic control gave us a surprising instruction to pass over the A380 as we transitioned to the other side of the field, giving me a chance at an incredibly rare photo.

As an aviation geek I was incredibly happy to fly directly over an A380 with reverse thrusters still deployed, but then the emotions started to hit me.

I was looking at a jet just landing from a sixteen-hour flight instead of flying over jets that would be grounded for the next sixteen months.

As we made our orbits in the approved area set aside for us by air traffic control, Andy the Photographer was locked in, exploring composition, lighting, and using the incredible power of the Sony A1II in my hands.  I’ve done this enough that it was almost instinct, so I let my mind wander as I saw things which reminded me of They Will Fly Again.

I saw this Finnair jet at a maintenance stand and thought of how many jets would’ve been crammed alongside it five years ago.

As the Emirates jet taxied towards its gate, a Virgin Australia flight departed.  Five years ago, there seemed to be only landings.

I loved seeing just how much infrastructure surrounds an A380 compared to a 737.  Five years ago, these gates would have been empty and all of the ground crew vehicles stored away.

I saw a Qantas 737 taxiing for departure and saw how empty the runways and taxiways were.  Five years ago those might have been crammed full of jets like they were in Kansas City.

Our friend the Emirates jet arrived at its gate, next to Qantas 787s and another A380.  Five years ago these gates were empty.  People felt stuck where they were and didn’t know when they could see loved ones again.

In my original They Will Fly Again project, there were a lot of diagonal lines that ran from the bottom left to top right of the frame.  I was happy to get a similar composition of Virgin Australia jets at a terminal running from the bottom left to the top right of the frame.  These planes had either just arrived or were waiting to depart, unlike many of the jets on the ground in Marana, Arizona, on the right.

I had planned this heli flight to put us over the airport around sunset to take advantage of the beautiful warm golden hour light.  We passed over the Qantas 737 again and I noticed the long shadow it cast.  For many of us, the pandemic cast a long shadow, and some of us are still recovering from its impacts.

As the sun approached the horizon, a Virgin Australia A320 departed.  There was really nothing interesting or significant about that flight, thinking back to it.  The fact, though, that it was common and not unique in any way is what made it unique.  Lots of us didn’t know when or if things would ever return to normal.  This Virgin Australia jet was a simple testament to how society forged ahead and kept going.

This Qantas 737 taking off seemed to make the same point.  Look at the tunnel at the top and bottom of the frame.  A plane full of people departing from an airport with hundreds of cars transiting underneath.  We have all kept going, as best as we’ve known how.

I asked the pilot if we could go a little higher, up to 2000 feet above ground level.  We worked with air traffic control and our request was granted.  We ascended and I got a picture that so perfectly illustrated how much my life had changed in the past five years.

On the bottom left, Sydney’s international airport, the one that brings me to my family or them to me.  Center right, Sydney’s domestic airport, which I frequent often to head down to Melbourne for work.  In the top center of the frame, Sydney’s central business district, where my office is located.  And in the distance on the top right of the frame, my home, Manly Beach.  I don’t think I ever could have imagined that this single photo would describe so much of my new life abroad only five years after documenting the beginnings of such a devastating pandemic.

It was time to end They Will Fly Again.  I felt like one last sunset photo symbolized the end of this creative journey for me.

I have often said that I started this blog almost 13 years ago more for me than for my tens of readers.  When I started it I didn’t know it would lead me to professional photography 2 years later.  That photography skill I learned (I’m far from a natural, I promise you) led me to working with some world-renowned brands and airlines and seeing my name put in front of millions of people.

I never imagined that all of those lessons I learned in my early years as a photographer were preparing me for something as significant as They Will Fly Again, I just liked taking pictures and sharing them with my readers!  When the opportunity arose to tell this incredible story, I knew I had the skills and the capability to tell the story well.  It took an incredible amount of time and effort to drive to all those airports and take those pictures, and even more time to edit them with the limited time I gave myself to do it.

I was talking to my mom before They Will Fly Again went live and remember telling her “Even if nobody reads it, I’m still proud of this.”  That’s how I knew I was ready.  Maybe that’s why I gave myself five years to end the project.  By then, I hoped there would be a finale worth sharing with you.

I hope you enjoyed the pictures from Sydney.  And, if you have never read the original They Will Fly Again article, I hope you give it a read, it’s flat out the best writing that I’ve ever done (and a huge thanks to Meagan Thomas for helping me edit the narrative).  More importantly than the photos though, I hope you reflect on the past five years.  Yes, a pandemic occupied the first couple of those five years, but the remainder have been yours.  

I hope you’ve kept that spirit of doing whatever you could to take care of those around you.  If you haven’t, I hope you find it again soon.  

I hope you’ve kept going, even when shadows were long and it wasn’t clear where you’d be in a few years.

Some of the jets in They Will Fly Again never actually flew again, just like so many of us lost friends and family dear to us either during the pandemic or in the years since.  I hope you try to find the beautiful moments during tough times, I promise they are there.

I’ll end this grand project with one final question for each of you to answer in your own way: what if They Will Fly Again was never about the jets?

 

 

 

 

Which was your favorite photo?  Tell me in the comments below!

(for licensing inquiries contact andy@lutencreative.com)