“Imagine: Where the City Meets the Stars”

Reflections from the 60th Space Coast Art Festival

This past weekend at the 60th Space Coast Art Festival, I experienced one of those moments that fill your heart with gratitude and reaffirm why you create in the first place. My photograph “Imagine” — a Chicago cityscape crowned by the Milky Way — was selected by the jury for final judging, and on Sunday morning, I learned it had received an Award of Merit.

To say I was overjoyed would be an understatement. But beyond the recognition, what truly moved me was the reaction of people who stopped in front of the piece. Many stood in silence. Some whispered “Is that real?” Others smiled and said, “I’ve never seen stars like that.”

And that — right there — is why I created Imagine.

A Dialogue Between Earth and Sky

I have always believed that the night sky speaks a language of connection. Every star, every faint wisp of cosmic light, is a reminder of how small we are and how magnificent the universe is. It humbles us, inspires us, and invites us to look beyond the boundaries of our everyday lives.

Photographing the Milky Way over a city like Chicago is not an easy task — it’s both a technical challenge and a metaphorical one. Cities pulse with energy, noise, and light, while the Milky Way thrives in silence and darkness. To bring them together is to imagine balance — harmony between human creation and the timeless expanse of the cosmos.

That’s what Imagine represents to me: a bridge between the modern world and the eternal sky.

The Vanishing Darkness

Sadly, true darkness is disappearing. Over 80% of people in the world live under light-polluted skies. Many children grow up never seeing the Milky Way at all — never experiencing that quiet awe that has guided dreamers, artists, and explorers since the dawn of time.

Light pollution doesn’t just steal our stars. It disrupts ecosystems, confuses migratory birds, affects nocturnal animals, and even impacts our own circadian rhythms. The glow of artificial light has slowly dimmed one of the oldest forms of human connection — our relationship with the night sky.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. With awareness and simple changes — shielding outdoor lights, using warmer tones, turning off unnecessary illumination — we can preserve our right to starlight.

Why I Keep Looking Up

Every time I photograph the night, whether in Yellowstone, the Tetons, or along the shores of Lake Michigan, I feel the same childlike wonder I felt the first time I saw the Milky Way. It’s not just about the photograph — it’s about the experience. Standing in the dark, hearing the whisper of the wind, feeling the rhythm of the earth beneath your feet — it reminds you that you belong to something infinite.

That feeling is what I hope to share through my work. When someone looks at Imagine, I want them to feel that connection — to remember that we are all part of the same universe, stitched together by light that has traveled thousands of years to reach us.

Gratitude and Hope

I am deeply grateful to the Space Coast Art Festival jury for recognizing Imagine with an Award of Merit, and to every person who stopped to look up — both at my photograph and, hopefully, at the real night sky when they went home.

May we continue to protect the beauty of darkness, celebrate the light of the stars, and never stop imagining a world where both can coexist.

✨

— Zsuzsanna Luciano