To Want and Wander

I want to wander this world through my lens, I want to write the stories of what I experience. I want to build a log cabin and make my own furniture. I want to observe the changing of the seasons from a position of hunger and want, of needing wood chopped and fish caught. I want to ride a motorcycle across the Arabian and walk from Mexico to Canada. I want to traverse the Brooks Mountain Range in Alaska and sleep amongst the bears. I want to sail to Hawaii, get scared and be afraid. I want to cross Iceland and dip in her warm pools, be sprayed by her cool waterfalls. I want to hear Bach played in Vienna, and read German. I want to make art, have it hung, collected and exhibited.  These I not only want, but need.
 

What do you ask of yourself?

Beautiful Desolation

The Great Basin Desert is just a bit interesting.  Until a shooting trip last Spring I've always treated Nevada as a necessary hindrance to transect on my way to the rich red walls of Southern Utah.  On our way back Westward after a particularly wondrous time adventuring, shooting and wandering Abbey's country we decided to cross the Nevada expanse on the least driven highway we could find.  Driving the barren stretches of the two lane back country highways I started to appreciate Nevada as more than a crossover, a gambling destination, a burning man gathering, I started to see it's landscapes for the first time.  As the road in front seemingly disappeared into the horizon, immense barren mountains rose out the expansive creosote plains to shape a shaved landscape where geology was as apparent as the forming weather.  Unlike the fiery red walls and canyons of the Colorado Plateau, The Great Basin Desert is subtle, it creeps up and slowly reveals its complex beauty.

 

After several hundred miles the desert slams up against the menacing walls of the Sierra Nevada Mountains that seem to rise straight up as if Nevada had suddenly at some ancient point been pressed down like a giant footprint.  At the base of this mountainous wall lies an alkaline lake with a mineral content far exceeding the briniest oceans where calcium deposits seeping out from underwater fresh water springs form large calcium formations that slowly creep out of the water. I've photographed here several times throughout the years, but this particular time we happened upon the most beautiful sunset mixed with an outrageous thunderstorm that had me running around frantically shooting all I could.

 

Thank you travel Buddy!

Northwest Autumn Revitalization

Crisp mornings, stormy afternoons, leaves raining, wood fire aroma, Autumn is wonderful and it's even more wonderful getting to spend a piece of it in the roots of my origin, Washington.  I traveled North to the small town of Bellingham to spend time with my folks and my brother.  Did more walking, chopping, coffee and laughing than I did shooting, but was able to squeeze in a few quick jaunts up to the North Cascades. After hiking for a little over an hour we came up to this amazing ridge line with expansive vistas of Mt Baker and Mt Shuksan.

We stayed up photographing past sunset and wandered back in the dark with the most brilliant dispay of stars I'd seen in a long time. A few days later I wandered back and photographed a beautiful waterfall in the same area.  Being buried in the wet, mossy forests makes me miss the Northwest, with its drizzle and slugs, coffee houses and evergreens it will always be home for me regardless of where I reside.

Editions editions everywhere...

As a practitioner of the fine art print the need to make editioning decisions has continually bugged me for years. I was never satisfied with the traditional method of limiting the number of prints to a specified number.  Either that or I just plain can't make up my mind.  The foundation of limited editions is rooted in the very real fact that a carved block, of any material, only has a set number of prints it can perform before it's worn down and unprintable.  With photography, especially digital photography, there is no physical pressure applied to the negative (or digital file) and thus the image can be re-printed indefinitely.  The only reasoning behind limiting an edition in photography is to artificially increase the value of each print.  There are far smarter people than I who have debated this very issue for years.  Now I'm not wholly against this, I like money as much as the next guy.  My problem lies in the fact that photography is an infinitely manipulatable and reproducible art form.  Anything within the image can be changed.  And traditionally, in a limited edition all prints are identical.  My vision of any particular image can (and often does) change over the years, and I'll adjust the image in future prints to reflect that change.  So if I decide one day that I want all prints to be 11 inches square and very dark, is that the start of an edition?  And equally confusing is when I change my mind and decide that I like all my images to be 15 inches square and on the lighter side, then what?  Perhaps this is all just language and applying definitions.  Maybe I should just concern myself with making images and not bother with the rest.  But I just can't seem to let it go, so recently I've decided on a system that seems to meet all my idiosyncrasies.   Open, sequentially numbered editions where there is no cap on the final number of prints and each image sold can independently unique.  By adjusting the price of the prints every 10 or 15th print sold the print run will eventually cap itself monetarily.  This is not a new idea and I by no means invented it, but I just wanted to share what has been streaming through my brain all week.

Want to Laugh...

This isn't exactly photo related, and being only my fifth post I'm probably fired, but I must share this little video I came across yesterday because it made me laugh all afternoon.  All about travel, dancing and having a good time...



I truly hope you enjoy!