In the opening chapter of Greg Urbano’s photographic journey, “Burning Sands” stands as a profound meditation on the transient nature of creation itself. Captured in 2014 at the Sanding Ovations event in Treasure Island, Florida, this image transcends its origins as documentary photography to become something altogether more contemplative—a visual poem about the delicate threshold between existence and dissolution.
The photograph presents an intricate sand sculpture rendered in monochromatic tones, its draped forms suggesting both shelter and sorrow. A solitary figure crouches within an arched doorway, while skeletal remains sprawl at the sculpture’s base, creating a narrative that feels simultaneously ancient and immediate. What elevates this work beyond mere documentation is the atmospheric haze that envelops the scene—that distinctive quality the photographer describes as having a “Burning Man vibe.” The overcast morning has transformed the beach into an otherworldly playa, where the sun becomes a pale disk suspended in a beige firmament.
Urbano’s technical approach demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of environmental photography. Shot with a Nikon D7100 at 11.5mm, the ultra-wide angle encompasses not only the foreground sculpture but also the secondary forms receding into the atmospheric distance, creating layers of depth that pull the viewer’s eye through the composition. The aperture of f/6.3 maintains critical sharpness across the sculptural details while allowing the background to soften naturally into the haze. At 1/1600s, the shutter freezes what is essentially a meditation on impermanence—an irony not lost on the careful observer.
The positioning of this work within Chapter 1—Beginnings feels particularly apt. Sand sculptures exist in perhaps the most precarious state of any art form: they are born from the beach and inevitably return to it, whether through wind, tide, or the simple passage of time. There is something profoundly instructive about beginning a photographic journey with such ephemeral subject matter. It suggests an artist already attuned to photography’s essential purpose: to preserve the fleeting, to honor what cannot last.
The sculpture’s symbolic vocabulary—the draped archway, the protective figure, the bones suggesting mortality—reads as universal rather than specific. These are archetypal forms that resonate across cultures and epochs. Yet the photographer’s framing transforms these symbols into something fresh. The ropes cordoning the installation, visible in the foreground, serve as a subtle reminder of the boundary between art and observer, between preservation and inevitable decay.
What makes “Burning Sands” particularly compelling within Urbano’s broader body of work is its early demonstration of his eye for the liminal—those in-between spaces where conditions create unexpected beauty. The hazy atmosphere wasn’t planned or controlled; it was observed, recognized, and captured. This sensitivity to environmental gift-giving would become a hallmark of his photographic practice.
In the context of beginnings, this image offers a paradox: it documents creation while simultaneously evoking dissolution. The pale sun, the encompassing haze, the skeletal remains—all suggest endings as much as beginnings. Perhaps that’s the deeper wisdom captured here: that every beginning contains within it the seed of its own conclusion, and the artist’s task is simply to bear witness to both with equal reverence.
Greg Urbano 