Walk in the woods and consider the taking of photographs. Where--within this limitless scene--do you hang the frame? Imposing boundaries, you exclude in order to amplify. In a very real sense, you create order out of chaos. You edit.
I like to use the world I inhabit to consider the larger world, stopping to examine the familiar places and faces that most scurry past without notice. In the hope of remembering the awe and wonder that surround us, these local opportunities move me toward an understanding of beauty, of life, of myself.
Photography provides my process of analysis. I choose a subject, examine my response to it physically and emotionally, ultimately sharing my impressions about the subject with others. The photographic record becomes the medium of exploration. I step back to reconsider the result. Can I glean some further knowledge? When I observe the familiar, I challenge myself to look beneath the surface, beyond the conventional, to pictorially discover the fulcrum intersecting my emotional response with the physical subject.
The intriguing question is: how do we determine what is harmonious? What criteria establishes a successful composition--or a failure? Like any language, in the visual arts, we learn the basics, then cultivate fluency. We are influenced by what has come before us; we work to create our own voice. Only then, do we discover something personal, born of our own unique experience.
Since photography's invention in 1839, the land has been a constant subject. It has been photographed--and photographed well. So why do we persist? The test isn't to reinvent the art, but whether we can master the discipline in order to convey that which moves us. I continue to be exalted and inspired by the enormity, complexity, and sheer beauty of nature. The Big Wild.
I live and work on Vancouver's magnificent Northshore. I count myself lucky to call one of the most spectacular metropolitan environments in the world home. On the Northshore, we are surrounded by the sea, by mountains, by a cathedral of trees older than grandparents. A primal power runs like a current through these woods and mountains. Here, the code of life is written for any would-be linguist to decipher.
If we can recognize that which moves us--the light, the form, the symbolism--we can photograph it. But we must always go deep within ourselves if we hope to really connect.