What the Water Carries
Mountains enter lakes. Leaves gather on dark water. A river works its way through stone. Across these landscapes, I follow the small movements through which a place is continually remade.
A Small Measure of Red
A red canoe rests between the mountain and its reflection. Across this expanse of stone and water, its smallness becomes a measure of everything around it.
The Bend Continues
A pale trunk turns through a forest of upright, blackened trees. Across two adjoining frames, the movement changes register from monochrome to color. The work is read as one passage, with each frame continuing the other.
I
A pale trunk turns among the upright remnants of the forest. Read with the adjoining frame, its curve begins a movement that neither photograph contains alone.
II
The pale trunk carries the eye onward, through blackened wood and cold blue sky. Color enters the passage; the two frames remain one unfolding work.
The Last Warmth
Orange light rests on the glacier beneath a deepening blue sky. A small cloud catches it too, briefly joining snow and air in the same warmth.
What Water Does to a Line
Layers of rock meet a moving current; upright trees enter their green reflection. Across the two photographs, lines held by the land become less certain in water.
Stone Keeps the Hours
The cliff lays out its layers beside the river. Water passes across their edges, bringing the long duration of stone into the present tense.
The Forest Below
Burned trunks rise above golden grass and descend into green water. Along the shore, the forest finds another form, less certain of its footing.
From the Peaks, Downward
Morning touches the peaks above a lake. A gorge draws the view into stone, and white water passes a wooded island. The three photographs carry attention from distant height toward the force close at hand.
Morning Reaches the Water
The peaks catch the first warmth while stones and fallen wood remain in the cool foreground. Morning travels down the mountain by way of its reflection.
The Mountain Opens
A river cuts between layered walls of rock. Beyond the narrow passage, forest and distant peaks open into weather.
Where the Trees Remain
Water spills around a wooded island and over the dark ledges below. The trees gather in the middle of a movement that continues past them.
Two Measures of White
Cloud and glacier meet above the dark mountain. Their whites belong to different measures of time.
A Mountain in Three Passages
A small canoe moves through three views of mountain and lake. Each frame redistributes the weight of stone, forest, and reflection around that slight human presence.
I
The mountain rises from the lake; a small canoe gives the distance a human scale. This first passage opens the relation between shore, water, and height.
II
The mountain enters the water again. In this second passage, its reflection draws the eye below the shoreline.
III
Rock and reflected rock share the lake. The third passage returns to the mountain through the surface that carries it.
Eyes of the Current
Two pools look out from the dark rock while white water runs above them. For a moment, the river seems to have a face.
The River Finds a Way
Water enters the gorge as a pale line and gathers beneath an opening in the rock. These two views follow the current through places that narrow its passage.
A Light Between Walls
Pale turquoise water enters the shadow of the gorge. Branches lean across the opening, and the river carries the light farther in.
Under the Stone
Through an opening in the rock, the current gathers into white folds. The stone gives its force a narrow place to pass.
What Autumn Lets Go
Leaves loosen from the trees and gather with lily pads on dark water. Across two views, the season forms a new arrangement close to the surface.
Along the Evening Shore
Riders follow the lakeside path; a pavilion stands above the water. The two photographs hold a passing movement and a place to remain within the same evening landscape.
Along the Evening
Riders follow the narrow path between autumn foliage and the lake. Their passing gives the still shore a slow, measured rhythm.
A Place for the Evening
A pavilion stands beside the lake at twilight. The shore gathers around this small place from which to look outward.
Immersive
Autumn leaves dissolve in the ripples, color loosening into the water until the surface turns with them.
The Height of Autumn
A broad trunk rises from fallen leaves, with smaller trees gathered behind it. Autumn occupies the wood at every height.
Through the Near Branches
Bare branches cross the view of an island bright with autumn. Mist opens a distance between what is close enough to touch and what remains across the water.
Under a Season
Autumn spreads overhead. The canopy turns the act of looking up into a way of standing within the season.
Near Bank, Far Color
Boats rest at the bank, while a small tree stands before the colors across the lake. Water joins the near and far shores through their reflections.
The Boats Stay Here
Two rowboats rest below the autumn trees. Their reflections settle beside them, held close to the bank.
A Little Nearer
A small yellow tree leans before the lake and the far bank's autumn color. Its reflection brings that distant brightness a little nearer.
The Last Leaves Find a Line
A few leaves remain among ice and bare branches. Seen together, their scattered color becomes a path the eye can still follow through winter.
The Leaves That Remain
A few leaves keep their rust color among ice-covered branches. Winter has arrived around them.
A Thread Through Winter
Yellow leaves follow a slender line through the dark branches. The eye moves with them, finding a passage through the tangle.
The Wood Makes Room
A young tree holds its orange leaves in the dim forest. Around its slight branches, the larger wood recedes into mist.
A Room Across the Water
A small cabin stands on the far shore. The lake carries it closer as a reflection, keeping the distance intact.
What Winter Leaves Moving
Ice gathers into columns beside the falls. Through the frozen shapes, a thread of water continues downward.
Before Autumn Has Gone
Snow bends the branches above a path scattered with red leaves. The next season arrives while the last is still underfoot.
A Clearing Made of Water
Water descends through ledges covered in fallen leaves. Its pale course opens a passage through the colors of the forest floor.
Beneath the Soft Edges
Snow rounds the stones along a dark stream. Water moves between their softened edges, carrying winter's shapes in its surface.
The Tree Returns as Water
Fallen wood lies against its reflection. Beyond it, a narrow band of autumn crosses the lake, joining the near branches to the distant shore.
A Piece of Sky Held Open
Curving sandstone narrows around an opening of blue. A small cloud passes through the space the canyon leaves to the sky.
Holding the Edge
Exposed roots follow the rock at the canyon rim. Beyond their reach, the land falls into folds of pale red stone.
A Tree Before the Distance
Bare branches stand against the canyon. Their small divisions give the eye a place to begin before entering the distance.
The Wind Leaves a Shape
Dune, shadow, and footprint repeat a movement at different scales. Across three photographs, the wind's broad forms make room for a brief human passage.
I
Shadow follows the curve of a dune. Fine ripples cross the foreground, repeating its larger movement at the scale of a footstep.
II
Bright ridges fold into dark hollows beneath broken cloud. Across the dunes, the eye follows one crest into another.
III
Footprints climb toward a small figure on the ridge. A human passage briefly joins the longer work of the wind.
Beyond the First Ridge
Pale granite rises above dark forest. Each ridge opens onto another, carrying the eye beyond the first horizon.
A Road Through the Long View
A car follows the road past a rock tower. Telephone poles mark out the distance in small, repeated intervals.
Between Two Islands
Near rocks and distant sea stacks meet in the coastal mist. Water separates their forms while fog draws them toward resemblance.
Where Green Takes Hold
Green strands cling to a dark rock on the gray shore. Their color draws the eye close to the surface of a much larger coast.
The River Writes Downward
The falls and the winding river belong to one descent. Across two views, blue water gives the pale canyon a continuous line to follow.
Under a Small Moon
Bare trees rise from pale terraces of stone. Above their branches, a small moon gives the open sky a point of nearness.
The Sky Lowers
Dark cloud gathers over the Teton Range. The green valley remains open beneath it, holding the space before the weather arrives.
Branches of Another Life
Weathered antlers rise from the moss beneath bands of cloud. Their branching forms return the eye to the sky.