Fisher Towers, Utah - Something I really enjoy creating are large panoramic stitches. Usually, this involves getting into a position where you’re excited with the landscape in front of you, then shooting a huge plate, upwards of maybe 20 photos. I’m not sure if it’s totally necessary, but I overlap quite a bit, to give the program a lot of information to work with. If at all possible, i’ll photograph using a lens with a focal length of at least 50mm, in order to avoid distortion which can be a real pain in the ass to deal with. Once you’ve created the plate, then you wait for the action. In this case, I was filming climbing for an Australian television show. While we were waiting for the TV host to get into position, a random climber summited Ancient Art and rapped back down. I shot a series of photos that captured him/her climbing the last little portion and standing on top. I eventually chose this one over the summit shot, because I liked the idea of the anticipation right before reaching the summit of something. Once you’ve created the plate and picked your action shot, it’s just a simple matter of dropping him/her into the scene. I think what I love most about it is that often times you can create a pretty awesome sense of scale that you wouldn’t be able to create otherwise.
Standing Alone
Standing alone, reaching toward the sky, Devil’s Tower looms over the surrounding landscape.
Rolling Hills Through Farmland
A while back, I had the opportunity to drive across country, documenting a cycling race for the film Inspired to Ride. It was such an awesome experience getting to see parts of the United States that I otherwise would never have visited.
Before the race, I chatted with quite a few of the athletes and one of the things that constantly came up was the midwest. All the athletes were intrigued by the midwest. For the most part, they knew what to expect the rest of the route, but the midwest was a giant blank. Having never spent any significant time there, I was also intrigued. What I found far exceeded my expectations. The people were pleasant, the rolling hills through farmland made for a nice backdrop, and for the film crew, the weather turned out to be pretty good. Not everyone was as fortunate, but for me, it was great.
The Larger Picture
I love looking through old photos and noticing aspects that never caught my eye before, like how many layers of people there actually are. When I first looked at it, I was transfixed on the couple sunning themselves, but as I looked deeper, I started noticing little groups here and there. It took a while just to notice the two boys directly behind them. For some reason, they just never stood out to me. Even now, it takes me a bit to really notice them. For me, this is a reminder that just because you’re looking, doesn’t mean you see everything, and sometimes it’s the little things that end up making the larger picture worthwhile.
The Gentle Water
A few years ago, before I headed out on my adventure around Croatia, I spent a morning wandering around Geneva. It was early, and the city had yet to wake up. I drove a few miles over to Lac Léman, a large lake that dominates the surrounding landscape. Street lights were starting to flutter off while the hum of the city steadily rose. I walked along a pier, listening as the waves lapped steadily against concrete below me. Across the lake on the opposite side stood a small lighthouse. A couple fishermen stood beside it, casting their lines out into the gentle water. It was so quiet, occasionally, conversation would float over on the wind. I didn’t understand them, but It gave me an interesting perspective on their early morning adventure.
As I stood there, enjoying myself, I noticed a sailboat silently sliding through the water, gliding in between us, heading out toward the center of the lake. I closed my eyes, picturing what their view would be. Looking both ways, a lighthouse with a few fishermen on one side, and on the other, a lone figure, enjoying a quiet morning, standing on the end of a pier in the middle of a waking city.
Something Greater
What moves us to that moment of silence?
When we stop and listen to the world while it speaks to us.
When, instead of rushing through life,
We stand with the stillness of a mountain, breathing in the sunset,
Letting the evening light fill our lungs,
The warmth wash over our body.
Eyes closed, we feel the flowers sway side to side through ribbons of light.
Mountains fade over time, only to rise again.
Life and death interweave, recycling themselves over again.
Our awe for the immensity of the world around us and what it feels like to find love are reflections,
Identical emotions running parallel through the deepest reaches of our hearts.
An overwhelming sense of belonging to something greater.
Filled with an inescapable feeling that we are not hopeless.
A fear we confront when faced with the silence of the unknown.
A Well Traveled Ridge
A group of climbers makes their way along a well traveled ridge off the top of the Aiguille du Midi in Chamonix, France. I came here on a few trips when I used to work for Camp4 Collective, and It was definitely one of my favorite locations. Great food, great crew, beautiful landscapes, amazing access. It really is one of the most spectacular places I’ve ever been, and I look forward to getting back there in the future.
A Distant Land
I stood on the corner, listening to the silence. It wasn’t like the complete and absolute silence that one might find in outer space, nor was it like the silence experienced while adventuring far across the ocean in a distant land. It was the silence that can only be found in certain parts of the west.
Mr. Fannypack
Split, Croatia - A young man walks by a school, plastered with graffiti. The sound of children fluttering around classes echo down onto the streets below, filling the surrounding area with an unrecognizable hum. I had parked across the street earlier in the day before I set off wandering around town. After a couple hours, I returned to my car and started packing up, but noticed this giant blank canvas in front of me. I walked back a bit and sat on a knee high retaining wall, patiently waiting for the right person to walk by. Sometimes I would see someone walking, and I would get excited, but a car would pass in front of me just as they moved into position. It took a bit; maybe 30 minutes before Mr. Fannypack found his way into my frame.
An Endless Field
In an endless field, on top of a slight hill, tucked away off a backroad in Kentucky sits a small barn. Unmoving, it braves the elements. Facing torrential rain as storm clouds race overhead. As night falls, clouds disperse and the moon appears, a sliver among stars.
Years pass, colors fade, and owners come and go, yet the barn remains steadfast. A monument to those around it. It is a symbol of the forces that shaped this country and a stoic reminder of the hard work and sacrifice that it takes to keep it running.
Different Than Us
Split, Croatia - On a narrow road lined with tiny vehicles, two women's lives meet for a brief moment.
I like the little things that make up a photo; laundry hanging to dry, air conditioners, satellite dishes, rows of cars. It’s an opportunity to look into how other people live their lives. And when we look at this overall picture, we see that they’re really not that much different than us. They might live halfway around the world in an unpronounceable country, but their needs are the same as ours, and that’s pretty humbling.
Authenticity
I don’t shoot portraits very often. It’s something I enjoy, however I definitely struggle with it. What helps is having an interesting subject. My friend Chad is one such subject. Not only is he an incredibly talented wood worker, but he photographs well, although it could just be the beard.
I had another frame that was similar to this one, but without the scratch down the eye. Eventually I decided that I liked it more with the scratch than without. I think that in an age where perfection can be achieved with the click of a few buttons, there is something nice about authenticity. I’m not saying that touching up is wrong, but it’s a different form of art. Really, it just comes down to preference.
In Search of Sunlight
Beautiful eastern european architecture dots the shore of the Mediterranean near the town of Split, Croatia. Down by the waterfront the fisherman load their boats in the early morning light, while bells clang back and forth, making their presence known to all. The smell of fish was thick as I worked my way down the shoreline. After a while I ventured into a part of town that was less glamorous, a blight on the land. Large unfinished hotels lined the road. Their concrete pillars conflicting against the calming seascape behind them. The angles, sharp; The colors, drab. No life existed except for the few plants that had broken through the foundation on their quest for sunlight.
I crawled through a hole in the fence and wandered deeper into the structure. walking down dark hallways, passing dark rooms. Visions of me being stabbed flashed through my head. I picked my pace up a bit, while simultaneously rehearsed how I would choke out my attacker. As I exited the corridor, I entered a larger room, and all thoughts passed from my mind. It was amazing. Sunlight burst through small circular holes near the ceiling. The roof itself emanated light down toward me, cautiously lighting the surrounding area. I paused for a moment to take in the scene. After a while, the foreboding feeling returned and I left in search of sunlight.
The Black Sea
Despite all the political turmoil, Ukraine is an enchanting place to visit. Down on the coast of the Black Sea is a little resort town called Foros. Its cat-filled narrow alleys give way to sandy beaches, filled with people from all over the Eastern Bloc. The smell of borscht carries out from the eateries lining the coast, tempting people as they pass by. The water, a mixture of cold and warm, makes it pleasant on hot days, but chilly when the weather turns south. Early in the morning, it’s quiet, but as the day moves on, the beaches fill with children running around while their parents lay out, basking in the sun.
Ukraine was a lot of things, but this is how I choose to remember it.
Ground Down to Dust
I walked along a broken fence that led down to the coast, battered by the elements. A harsh cold wind whipped at my face as the clouds raced across the sky. I climbed around, exploring like a child, hopping from rock to rock, splashing in puddles, skipping stones. Sitting down, my back against a column, staring out across the tumultuous ocean in front of me, I take in the scene around me. The rocks that that surround me have been battling the elements for millions of years, slowly wearing down over time. Like us, someday, this rock will be gone, ground down to dust, its molecules mixing with the earth. The difference is that the rock has no control over its immediate future. It might be able to fight the storm far longer than any of us ever could, but what’s the point of fighting, if you're unsure as to why you're doing it.