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Photography and our Public Lands

Friday, November 18th, 2016

Over the last several weeks, we have been reminded of very real threats–or at least dangerous precedents set–to the Western landscape, and to American public lands in general. First, all defendants in the 41-day standoff at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Oregon were found not guilty of charges of federal conspiracy and gun charges. Less than two weeks later, the United States presidential election resulted in a Republican-controlled presidency and congress, leaving federal public lands at greater risk for fossil fuel development, or even return to state control.

For anyone concerned with the preservation of wilderness, our cultural landscape, or simply the health of future generations, neither of these occurrences should set well. Together, they’ve been keeping me up at night. Reconciling all of this news is no small task.

“I want people to remember how photography works, the medium that depends on perfect darkness within the camera to capture the image, for an image of boundless light would be purely black, an exposure in perfect darkness would show just the white of unexposed paper. The visible world depends on both.” -Rebecca Solnit | Hugging the Shadows

Finding purple in a sea of blue and red

Last week, shortly after the election, I had a conversation on social media regarding the proposed Bears Ears National Monument (which I have written about before). Although I have some hesitation about the Bears Ears region being designated a National Monument, it really is the perfect candidate for protection under the Antiquities Act, although a longtime friend disagreed. While we had opposite opinions, our underlying concern for the region is the same: both of us would like to see it remain as pristine as possible. While our sedimentary layers may be different, we are standing on the same bedrock.

Looking at election maps from last week, there appears to be a deep divide in ideology between rural and urban areas, however I’d like to think we’re more purple than red vs. blue, and that the bedrock most of us are standing on is the same. Indeed, if you look at the role public lands played in western elections this season, it is clear we value our public lands.

Looking forward, I have questions. Is it possible to search for common ground, while at the same time not compromising core values? Can we find a common currency for the value we attribute to public lands? Perhaps, more importantly, what can photographers do now?

Working locally, reconnecting to place

There are a few resources out there for having the conversations that are sure to happen more frequently in coming months (this is a great one). One thing they all seem to mention is to talk about feelings, rather than facts, at least to start with. As a scientist, I think, “but the facts are all that matter!” but as an artist, I get it. Art, including landscape photography, has the power to change the way people look at their world. There’s been some debate about whether artists can or should be activists or whether art should exist independently, but my gut is telling me now is the time for us all to be activists. Share your work with as many people as possible. Create content, be heard.

I’ve lamented before that as a people we are woefully detached from place, so perhaps it is the job of artists to bring us back to that. Share your work locally. Every local in every town has stories to share about their “backyard”–tap into those stories and work to reconnect people with what may have been lost.

If anything, recent news is a reminder that our public lands–and the places we love to photograph–are in danger of becoming not-so-public, and should be a good reminder to us all to educate ourselves on local politics, and think of ways to use our photography to shift the tide towards a secure future.

Posted in environment, ethics, locations, rants | 2 Responses »
Tags: california, election year, national park, nevada, politics, western politics

Two rabbis

Saturday, February 21st, 2015

“The meaning and purpose of dancing is the dance. Like music, also, it is fulfilled in each moment of the course. You do not play a sonata in order to reach the final chord, and if the meaning of things were simply in ends, composers would write nothing but finales…” — Alan Watts

I once heard a joke about two Jewish rabbis who were having dinner together. They were close friends and felt they could tell each other anything. One night they stayed awake very late discussing the existence of God and concluded finally that God did not exist. A few hours before dawn, they then went off to bed. In the morning, one of the rabbis got up, looked for his friend all over the house, and not finding him, searched outside. He found his friend in the garden, absorbed in his ritual morning prayers.

Surprised, he says, “What are you doing?!?”

“You can see what I’m doing, I’m saying my morning prayers.”

“That’s what surprises me! We almost talked until dawn, decided that God does not exist, and now here you are saying your morning prayers?”

The other rabbi smiled wryly and replied quite simply, “What does God have to do with it?”

The punchline of the joke may not be immediately obvious, but what the second rabbi did not realize, perhaps, is that fidelity to and reverence for ritual was more important than belief in God to the rabbi who went on with his morning prayers.

I can remember one April day early in my photographic career, I saw a large-format photographer standing out at noon on top of the cab of his pickup truck with his camera in Death Valley making images. From a distance I watched him for a while, and finally concluded that he was crazy because what sort of image could be made at noon? It was, after all, the only reasonable explanation for his behavior, because it was at least 7 hours until it would be worth pulling the camera out of the bag.

Fast forward more than a decade, and I can see that photographer was not out of his mind. There are many great articles out there on ways to make images all day long. However, what’s more–and what I see now–is that it’s not always about only making images of a nuclear sky, but rather fidelity to and reverence for the process of image making. Like any relationship, knowing the landscape requires time, effort, and–at least in Southwest–a few cactus pricks, scrapes, and bruises. Repeated visits, and often several failed attempts are necessary to make “that” image, and finally–hopefully–success. Success, as it were, ultimately may never come, but when your photography is motivated by the place itself, it paradoxically doesn’t seem to matter all that much.

It seems that the most highly praised photography is that which has the most jaw-dropping colors, or the most dramatic light. It won’t be long and you’ll have an app on your smartphone that can tell you whether the sunset will be worth photographing tonight. In other words, why waste your time going outdoors unless the sunset is going to be “V+F” worthy? Don’t get me wrong, I still get very excited for colorful sunsets and dramatic light, but let’s not forget the sheer joy of being outside, making images. If this is forgotten, it will be a step in the wrong direction for those attempting to make a case for photography as art.

I often wonder if I had approached that photographer in Death Valley years ago to ask him why he was wasting his time in midday light if he would have turned to me, smiled wryly, and asked simply, “What does the sunset have to do with it?”

Posted in philosophy, rants | 10 Responses »
Tags: art, artistic vision, fine art, reverence

Happy Thanksgiving

Wednesday, November 26th, 2014

Another year has almost passed and it’s been a relatively quiet one for me on the blog. Life’s busy-ness has taken up a lot of my time over the last few months, and writing has taken a back seat to other things. Such is life–I’m sure 2015 will bring change to the natural ebb and flow of things.

Despite my quiet nature lately, I have been thinking much about the holiday season this year, Thanksgiving in particular. As a child, Thanksgiving was really just felt like a necessary stepping stone on my way to what I thought were much more important holidays: Christmas, and my birthday (which is in January). However, over the years Thanksgiving has become my favorite holiday; the notion of thankfulness has become very poignant as I’ve grown older.

This year, all I want for Thanksgiving is presence. Be present in the moment, with whoever you’re with. Practice the art of deep listening. Our society is rapidly becoming one in which viewpoints and opinions are so polarized that discussion, common ground, and mutual respect are disappearing. Not only is this true here in the United States in national news, I see it more and more on social media–just the other day I saw a discussion thread regarding personal preference for hiking boots vs. trail runners de-evolve into personal insults. Really?

I read an essay by Laura Simms recently that captured this notion perfectly. In an excerpt she wrote:

“Pulling opinions off of soapbox reactivity can be as agonizing as pulling a bandaid off an open wound. But without fresh air and time, the wound does not heal from within. We managed to listen to each other. Our dialogue became stunning and hard. We had to agree to consider each person’s reflection. With space, and with listening, and with a certain personal discipline, each of us began to melt. Our differences and our listening became our common ground.”

Sadly, Thanksgiving dinner is often the perfect venue for our opinions to clash. Start small by giving the gift of presence to whoever you’re with this holiday season, and resolve to work towards a common ground of understanding in the new year.

Posted in Introspection, New Mexico, Personal, philosophy, rants | 3 Responses »
Tags: bisti, holiday, Thanksgiving

The important lesson

Monday, September 23rd, 2013

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve read two blog posts that have made me think quite a bit about social media. First, Ron Coscorrosa’s incredibly perceptive and well-written, “Avoiding the Internet Popularity Trap,” is a humorous poke at the current state of photography and social media. The other post is, “7 Ways to be Insufferable on Facebook.” from a blog I’ve recently discovered called Wait but Why.

As I read both of these posts, I laughed at their cleverness, but my laugh quickly devolved to that awkward chuckle you get when you’re in a room full of people and realize you’re the butt of a joke. For both posts, I need more than one hand to count the number of “offenses,” I’ve made.

I imagine to some extent it was true before social media came along, but there’s no doubt now: Facebook (and its offspring) has made us a funny bunch of people indeed. The internet has increased the speed of our cultural evolution rapidly–too fast I’m afraid for our poor little brains to keep up with. This leaves us doing all sorts of weird things for attention, as if we’re that awkward kid in braces at the middle school dance, trying to get the attention of that girl or boy. You know who I’m talking about. And you were that awkward kid; we all were.

In response to ribbing critiques of our odd cultural behavior, we have two choices: laugh at ourselves, or get mad. If you follow the landscape photography circles on Facebook at all, you know about the fallout surrounding Ron’s post–there were some people who took it personally, and for no good reason in my opinion. We’re all guilty of these things. That’s why they’re funny, and if it causes us to take a step back for some positive reflection, then so much the better. Things are so serious in this world…if you can’t laugh at yourself, what can you laugh at?

So with that in mind, here’s my offering of silly Facebook antics that I’m guilty of. Will I do it again? Probably. But, I’m always mindful that it’s the body of work that does the talking, not the lip service. That’s the important lesson here.

Thanks to Ron and Why but Why for the great posts.

Posted in Introspection, philosophy, rants | 19 Responses »
Tags: Ron Coscorrosa, social media

The nature of loss

Tuesday, April 16th, 2013

I’ve often (somewhat seriously) joked that the only reason I’d want to be the President of the United States is because of the Antiquities Act. This law enables the President–with the swipe of a pen–to protect our nation’s “antiquities” by declaring a national monument. Theodore Roosevelt, who signed the bill into law, used the Antiquities Act to create Devils Postpile National Monument, as well as Grand Canyon National Monument, which would later become a national park. Most boys want to be an astronaut when they grow up; I wanted to create national monuments.

Today is the 105th birthday of Utah’s first national monument: Natural Bridges. The monument protects three large natural bridges, including the world’s second largest, all of which are carved out of beautiful, white, Cedar Mesa Sandstone. Two relatively untamed canyons come together in Natural Bridges, and between the large arcs of stone, Ancestral Puebloan ruins are also protected, standing sentinel over these canyons as they have for hundreds of years. Natural Bridges is out of the way and remote, located in one of the darkest nighttime areas of the United States, earning it the title of the world’s first International Dark Sky Park.

Perhaps it’s an ironic coincidence, but on the birthday of Utah’s first national monument, a group of congressmen–one of whom is from Utah–will begin a hearing in an attempt to undermine the framework of the Antiquities Act. If passed, this body of legislation would require an act of Congress to declare a national monument as well as remove restrictions on land use within national monuments. In Nevada, the Antiquities Act would become null and void (as it is in Wyoming currently). My fear is that in today’s hyperpartisan congress, these changes would make it virtually impossible to use this law as it was intended.

What strikes me even more deeply is the fact that I see the world changing. We are developing land and extracting natural resources at a rate which is simply unsustainable. As a nation, we are slowly but surely abandoning wild places, which is opposite of the notion on which we built our country. Wallace Stegner wrote in his now-famous wilderness letter, “We need wilderness preserved–as much of it as is still left, and as many kinds–because it was the challenge against which our character as a people was formed. The reminder and reassurance that it is still there is good for our spiritual health even if we never once in ten years set foot in it.”

Much has been written on the value inherent in preserving these places and I can’t begin to reiterate all of it here. You can read about clear cuts, pipelines, and mining all day. However, I can’t help but think there’s something deeper happening which we must examine. The material impact of our society on wilderness is obvious, but what about the impact of wilderness on us? Does it no longer move us? Are we no longer in awe of what’s “out there?” Are we simply missing the bigger picture?

What’s the connection to photography? Honestly, I’m still working on this. As landscape photographers, we have the ability to inspire people, to make them want to see places that they might not otherwise see. We have the ability to become an impassioned voice. It’s worth considering, and it beats the alternative. The loss of nature will eventually force us to examine the nature of loss one way or another.

If these mountains die, where will our imaginations wander? If the far mesas are leveled, what will sustain us in our quest to be larger than life? If the high valley is made mundane by self-seekers and careless users, where will we find another landscape so eager to nourish our love? And if the long-time people of this wonderful country are carelessly squandered by Progress, who will guide us to a better world? — John Nichols

When I was a boy I didn’t want to be an astronaut; I wanted to be in the wilderness. I still do.

Posted in environment, ethics, locations, national park, rants, utah | 5 Responses »
Tags: canyon, introspection, sense of place, utah, wilderness

Ethics, Photography, and Archaeology

Monday, June 4th, 2012

Almost two years ago, Kah Kit Yoong published two blog posts on, “Art Appreciation in the Digital Age,” and, “Photographing Art and Museums,” that have been poignant enough to stick in my mind all this time for a couple of reasons. First of all, he raises big picture questions in my mind like, “Why are we so drawn to art?” or “Why do photographers feel driven to make art from art?” However, I find it curious that even though a dusty canyon in the Southwest might feel like it’s a world away from the Louvre or the Met, in some ways it is closer than we think.

Photography of Native American rock art and architecture seems to be a niche that landscape photographers fill somewhat naturally. Perhaps it is because we are already in the field, and taking a photograph of a pictograph panel or ancient dwelling adds a nice element to the image. Or, maybe the reason is deeper. Maybe we can relate to the original artist’s feeling of connectedness to the landscape, allowing our imaginations to wander, trying to imagine what this canyon might have looked like 800 or 1,000 years ago.

House On Fire

I have written before about my early years in the outdoors, backpacking in the Cedar Mesa area, which is one of the most archaeologically-rich areas in the world. A Bureau of Land Management archaeologist once told me that there is an estimated 2,000 sites per square mile on Cedar Mesa and in the Grand Gulch drainage in southeastern Utah. Granted, my idea of a “site” is quite different from an archaeologist’s but there is no arguing that is an impressive number. When I was young I enjoyed pretending that I was the first person to discover these sites since the original tenants left. Today, I enjoy visiting because there is a peacefulness in these places; I feel humbled and placed when I visit them. My youthfulness still lives on, however, as I enjoy the “treasure hunt” involved with looking for a particular rock art panel or ruin.

Regardless of why they are photographed, there are some archaeological sites in the Southwest that are becoming part of the landscape photographer’s repertoire, such as the “House on Fire” ruin in southeastern Utah. If you don’t know it by name, you have surely seen an image of it (you have now, anyway). And for good reason–it’s very photogenic. Others are less well known, but with some research, can be found online or in guidebooks fairly easily. Still other sites are–quite honestly–damned hard to find.

Pictograph on the San Rafael Swell in southern Utah

Ghostly Figures

As the interest in these places continues to grow, it brings up some ethical questions, especially regarding those locations that are difficult to find. For instance, how much information should a photographer share about the location of a site (see here and here for great discussions on this subject)? Much unlike the Mona Lisa, these works of art do not have the protections that would keep vandals, or even an ignorant visitor capable of unintentional damage, out.

Would we want those protections in place?

Being able to photograph and experience these sites untethered is one of the joys of visiting them. Even if a simple cord or chain were to form an artificial boundary, there is no one preventing a breach of that line. In some ways, it seems that keeping quiet about specific locations of these sites is the best way to protect them.

In the former of the two blog posts mentioned at the beginning of this post, Kah Kit Yoong says, “Now I’m aware that tourists are just enjoying themselves and it’s not hurting anyone. Nevertheless it is annoying to see masterpieces relegated to props for snapshots.” I agree. While part of me feels it’s important to appreciate our cultural history, the rest of me hates to see a ruin go unappreciated, or be part of a photographer’s Southwestern image harvest, with no real knowledge of the site.

I hope this doesn’t read like an elitist rant about visiting archaeological sites; I am by no means pulling the ladder up behind me saying that no one else can “come play” in these places. What I am suggesting is that photographers think about the value of an archaeological site to themselves, to science, as well as to the descendants of the people who once lived there. On my website, I purposely don’t give much information on the sites I have images of, but am always happy to talk one-on-one with other interested people about these places.

Whether you’re in the Louvre, the Musee Rodin, or the Colorado Plateau, works of art surround you. Do you think they all deserve the same respect and protection? Why do you think we enjoy visiting these places so much?

Posted in ethics, locations, rants, utah | 12 Responses »
Tags: Anasazi, ancestral puebloan, archaeology, conservation, sense of place

Alpenglow Images

Landscape & Nature Photography by Greg Russell