Straight as an arrow, or very nearly so, the road crests the mountain range, beginning its descent into the valley. After what feels like only a few minutes, it will start up the next rise, repeating this pattern again and again.
Basin and range. Ascent and descent. This topography–narrow, steep mountain ranges separated by deep valleys–very nearly defines the West. John Muir’s Sierra Nevada is the westernmost “range;” the province then extends eastward, one towering mountain range after another, and would reach all the way to eastern Colorado if the Colorado Plateau didn’t get in its way.
Four years ago, my Dad and I began the somewhat informal tradition of making a January photography trip somewhere together. I think it started mostly as an excuse to be outside and hike around together, hopefully making a few images along the way. Last week, I found myself in his truck with him cresting the Amargosa Range thus beginning the descent into Death Valley.
Death Valley National Park typifies the Basin and Range Province; the Inyo, Panamint, and Amargosa mountain ranges rise like the vertebral columns of colossal ancient dinosaurs, and the valleys between them (Death Valley included) cut through the earth separating them. The changes in elevation are dramatic and impressive, even to someone not well-versed in geology. As the park brochure will tell you, it is indeed a land of extremes.
We spent the next few days hiking around some places I had been to before, and some I had not. As one must sometimes do in a national park the size of Connecticut, we also drove a lot. The arrival of a winter storm gave a unique patina to the desert: landscapes we normally associate with hot lifelessness were transformed–beautifully–by clouds and fog.
I don’t normally get to photograph über-dramatic light, and honestly I am okay with that. My eye naturally tends to find compositions in subtle light and delicate form, which is exactly what this storm gave us. This year I celebrated my birthday on our trip, and the light was a perfect birthday gift. So, not only was it a time to enjoy being outside, it was also a time of celebration.
The last four Januarys with my Dad have given me milestones by which to watch him get older as well. He is not in failing health, but with each passing year I see him–both of my parents–getting older. My rational brain is accepting of that, but the little boy in me isn’t quite ready for the aging process to begin–in them, or in myself. Over the last couple of days, I’ve been thinking a lot about aging, mortality, our ability to experience a place, and the creative process; I think a common thread runs between all of these things.
As photographers, and particularly as landscape photographers, our ability to create art is rooted in how we perceive the world: our ability to see light and distinguish shapes, and to integrate that sensory experience with the smells and sounds around us is the cornerstone of our craft. The most evocative landscape photography I have seen is that which is sensed, not only with my eyes, but inside of the nucleus of every cell in my body.
Our senses are rooted in our biology, which changes as we age. If our senses are changing, it is no surprise that our artistic vision would change as well. Ideally, it would mature along with everything else! I wrote in my last blog post about my own journey back in time, exploring my favorite images from the last half decade. My artistic vision has changed, certainly. Matured, perhaps. Practice, study, and introspection have no doubt played a part in this, but perception–the way my senses tell me about the world–is a huge part of that.
Do we perceive the world with more clarity as we age? Do my aging parents somehow see things more clearly than I do? In some ways, I’d like to think they do. It is somewhat macabre, but looking all the way to the end may help answer that. Turning to my “other” field of comparative physiology for a moment, the great Canadian physiologist Peter Hochachka wrote only days before his own death in 2002, “I have noticed how the mind seems to clear when one’s time is up and current life is near an end…instead of anger, bitterness or even sadness, there can be interest and increased clarity.”
Basin and range. On my birthday this year, this landscape gave me not only light, but hope as well. Hope that in 30 years, I will see this landscape differently, and with more clarity, as perhaps my Dad did standing next to me on this trip. Hope that I will still be creating images then, images that are personal, unique, intimate.
Fantastic post and reflections on life! Awesome images as always Greg!! 🙂
Mortality looms larger as we age but the trade off, health permitting, is the freedom to explore, read, reflect and indeed photograph with a more mature mind. But the mature mind can still embrace a child’s curiosity. As the old saying goes, youth is wasted on the young. I hope you have many more road trips with dad. The photographs just get better.
What a great post, Greg. I dream of doing things like this with my son many years from now. Both of my parents passed away years ago and I never had the good fortune of spending this kind of quality time in the wilderness with them. I may have missed out on it with my parents but my son will (and does) not. Lovely thoughts and images, Greg.
Happy Birthday! You brought up memories of camping/photography trips with my dad from a few years ago. I agree that “our ability to create art is rooted in how we perceive the world.” As a man entering into retirement years I do perceive this world very differently than I did 30 years ago. It is more precious to me, more alive, more a part of me. I need the natural world and all that it offers. It is important for me enter into it more often. Great post!
Great post Greg. I’m still working on that clarity thing, but one thing I’ve noticed as I age is that I have little patience for wasting time with things that have little gut-level meaning to me. Maybe that is a degree of clarity.
So glad to be able to return the compliment, Greg. A beautifully written and moving narrative. Thank you for this glimpse into the person that you are.
Guy
Some very deep and meaningful words Greg. It seems too many people fear the thought of maturing and growing old, when really it’s these exact things that lead to new experiences and a better understanding of the world around us. As a photographer, I’m excited to see how I will perceive the world as I grow older.
As always, some beautiful images and a very moving post!
Well done, Greg. I got a lot out of this post. One thing I’ve always felt is that I am the same person now that I was xx years ago. 🙂 I’m hopefully wiser and more at peace, but that little redheaded girl is still in me and I was in her then.
Sharon
Beautiful images and heart-felt words Greg.
My father (a large format photographer) passed away a few years ago, but I was fortunate to have shared many trips with him wandering through the wilderness, camera in hand. Times I’ve come to appreciate more and more as I get older.
I learned much of my photographic technique from him, but I’d like to think that over the years, I’ve developed my own interpretation of the natural world.
Photography is such a wonderful medium for channeling our own unique vision and I do believe that the clarity with which we do this only enhances with age.
Appealing post, Greg. My dad was instrumental in my becoming an outdoors person. Enjoy your annual travels with him!
You are very fortunate to experience these places with your father at an age when you yourself have attained some maturity. Beautiful post and thoughts.
This is a really fine posting, Greg. Your thoughtfulness is always inspiring. I envy your relationship with your father as I have never been very close with mine. It is important to the fullness of life to have and maintain that connection. I hope the two of you are able to continue this tradition for many more years, even long enough for it to become a threesome.
Very nice words here Greg, and nice portrayal of the memories of this great trip with your father.
Wonderful images Greg. Your thoughts echo my own feelings – last year I was fortunate to take both of my parents to Moab and Jackson. We had some special times and surely, these are the experiences I will remember forever.
P.S.: Added you to my blogroll – it may be seen by clicking on any blog entry on my blog 🙂
NICE writing for sure. I’ve been trying to deal with the aging thing myself, and it’s NOT fun. i really enjoyed this piece.
Hi Greg,
You hit the nail on the head. Great photography is about feeling even more than seeing. It’s like the difference between having somebody show you that they love you versus simply telling you.
As for getting older, all I worry about is that at some point I won’t be able to climb up the mountains or down into the canyons anymore. I think that will be an emotional moment for me.