I've taken to visiting the desert in the dead of winter. The short days provide refuge from the mid day sun. Soft light bounces across canyon walls painting colors we can not perceive until we click the shutter. I'm hiking over cold Mojave sands in search of high walls or depressions in the sandstone cliffs that surround us. This is a landscape that is difficult to show in its true colossal scale on its own. But accompanied by Janice and Jasmine my job is easy.
I stand precariously high on cliffs, as they make sandstone bed, and canyons carves by wind and rain look like comfortable places to lay...they are not. We all feel the sting of the cold stone, the scrapes on our skin as it clutches rock against gravity. In the desert there is no soft embrace save for that they have for one another.
I am trying more and more to show that. We've had a over a century now of nudes that imitate Edward Weston: often faceless, tattooless, close up abstractions of subjects. I don't want to spend my whole life recreating classics born of standards created 120 years ago. Ultimately I want humanity and a human experience.
Charleston
2019-04-09 00:11:17 +0000 UTC