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?
Blue Hour, Yellowstone River,
During the COVID-19 epidemic of 202 I socially distanced from others by solo camping across Wyoming and Montana. The morning after my birthday I woke much too early, but could not fall back asleep, so I packed up and headed for the Hayden Valley to photograph the herds of mating bison. As I passed Otter Creek I noticed that there was a heavy fog lifting from the river. I parked at one of the riverside fishermen's pull-offs and walked down to the river. I was in the same location until past full sunrise revelling in a beautiful location I had all to myself in a nearly deserted Yellowstone. It was wonderful and eerie at the same time.
