If I were told that I could only concentrate on one genre of photography for the rest of my life, it would probably be landscape photography, as much for the process as the subject. Making landscape photographs transports me to a place of intense focus that usually takes me down one of two paths.
Often, its like composing a complex classical symphony for a full orchestra. One of the ways to strengthen a design is to limit the elements you include and in photography I can do that through the use of light and shadow as well as changing my point of view. Still, there can be dozens of elements that have to be arranged into a harmonious composition, and not all of them seem to fit at first. Making a single photograph can involve hours of work.
On the other hand, after 4o years of making photographs, there is often a kind of grand calculus going on in my head that I’m not always aware of on a conscious level, a kind of instinctual process where I compose and select camera settings in order to achieve my vision of the photograph I wish to make that is much more like playing smooth jazz than composing that symphony.
Both processes can lead to compelling photographs, and in the end, isn’t that all that matters?
Memories 1
I love how the colors and textures of this photograph almost feel painterly. On a cold, rainy October day I was driving the backroads on the west side of the Tetons when I found this stand of golden Aspens bordered by this disused fence. The location suggested that the fence once enclosed horses and cattle, but the fields had gone wild and obviously nothing had been grazing there for many years. But the remnants of the old log fence told the story. Cloudy, rainy days always reduce contrast and create beautiful, soft shades of color and light.
