I spent a fall afternoon checking out the annual Kite Festival here in Las Vegas, not entirely sure what to expect but carrying high hopes. On paper, it had everything I look for when photographing events: a lively crowd full of interactions, lots of kids (which almost guarantees genuine moments), and kites—constant motion, color, and unpredictability.
I also made it a point to connect with a few photographers I’d met through Meetup. Those conversations are always valuable—trading perspectives, picking brains, and seeing how others approach the same scenes reminds me how many ways there are to see.
This outing also marked the very first field test for the Leica Q3. I wanted to see how the straight-out-of-camera JPEG settings would hold up and how well the autofocus performed in a busy, fast-moving environment.
As expected, the park was filled with motion and noise, the kind that can easily overwhelm the senses. In situations like that, I find it helps to almost defocus mentally—letting the chaos fade until smaller, meaningful scenes rise to the surface. The wind was light, which proved challenging for the organizers; the larger kites struggled to stay airborne for more than a few seconds. As a result, most of the real action shifted to the kids and families, running hard and laughing as they fought gravity to keep their kites aloft.
Patience became the guiding principle. I walked the grounds slowly, waiting for moments to reveal themselves rather than chasing them. Then golden hour arrived, and it felt like a soft, magical blanket settling over the park. The light transformed everything.
I never did get to see the kite dragon take flight, but that didn’t matter much in the end. The afternoon became a solid exercise in observation and responsiveness—skills I hadn’t fully tapped into for a while. And for a brief moment, I felt myself slip back into that familiar rhythm, that elusive zone. It felt good to be there again.
