The Hudson resembles a slurpee more than a river these days

The color of snow deceives today, not a postcard white but a palate of dark clouds and roiling ocean

Leaves, countless in number, carpet the grass.  Alike in their multitude, each is unique

Contact sheets make for fascinating reading. There’s an honesty to them

Back in Big Timber, the crossing full of late day sun and haze from summer fires

I’m still looking at trees and thinking about perspective

Here in the middle of towering steel is another aperture

Winter light is fabulous for photography.

Today, the trees are dappled and colorful.

I’ve been looking at the trees. Almost everywhere around us, they are familiar, even common, and at the same time endlessly new and different

The Met’s Becher exhibit a couple years ago still has me thinking about the dependencies among technical aspects of photography and realized vision    

They run as far as my eye can see, these grasses in Sweet Grass County.

It's magnificent. A not-quite-straight pole of juniper

What carries down this hall, the din of distant past and trace of last night

It’s a no-no, turning the lens directly into the sun

It started, as it does every year, with the buds at the tips of low branches

A young woman was telling me recently about sound: recording it, editing it, using it to tell a story. While silent, photographs can evoke sound

Morning at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, today with torrents of water and the desert blooming

Back to the sea, with its open bound of water and far horizon

Another aperture, this oculus. It is as simple as a hole and as infinitely complex as the shapes and colors of day, night and weather that it projects inside