Opening one’s eyes to his or her everyday surroundings is a fantastic challenge for most photographers; as they become inured to the sights and sounds of the local environment, sight stops. I, too, have suffered these bouts, so I force myself to open my eyes. Monday morning, as I drove to my office, the early morning light and ducks milling about inspired me to make an impressionistic capture, and helped me renew my visual relationship with what’s just outside my front door.
A bumpy drive south of St. Elmo, Colorado, is the Alley Belle Mine, one of a very few remaining vestiges of the town of Romley. There sits a miner’s cabin, abandoned, with only the brief summer flowers and morning light to warm its decaying existence, and one late June morning at 7 a.m., I joined those companions in the cabin, celebrating the past and present through this photo.
On a cold, early morning in January, I found this dormant shrub in an alcove of the Carmelite Convent that is home to the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops. The morning light bouncing off the bush onto the adobe wall fascinated me, and gave me an opportunity to make this picture–a “quiet image,” as one of my photographer friends would call it.