As far as we know, we live on the best planet in the universe. It is our own Garden of Eden, at just the right temperature, with good things to eat, and, it is the most beautiful place there is.

Humankind has accomplished some amazing things. We have created beautiful art, architecture, music and philosophy. We have come to understand much about the world we live in and how it works; we can fly around the world and into space; we have made some wonderful toys for ourselves. Yet, for all the beauty and ingenuity of our creations, we have not improved the beauty of our home.

When we are able to get away from that part of the landscape dominated by man-made projects and activities, one always finds spiritual peace and rejuvenation. I have spent much of my life living in the wilderness, and my photography is both homage to our home, and an attempt to share some of the beauty, and solace, that derives from wild places. We sometimes destroy that which nourishes us, and what we love–so we need to be more careful with our Garden.

For forty years I have made of images of the landscape, which is an endlessly delightful source of aesthetic pleasure and contemplative inspiration for me. My quest has been to make prints that speak as strongly to the viewer as the original experience was to me. I began making Ilfochrome prints, which were the most colorful, sharp and permanent print medium available. Recent advances in digital printing have given me a level of artistic control I only dreamed about. Now I can control my colors, values, composition, sharpness and content to a degree not possible in the darkroom. For me, photography is still the art of seeing, and now I can express my vision more clearly and strongly than ever. Artistically, this is terribly exciting. I still work from film.

I make my prints look as close to the original scene as I can remember it. My choices of light, composition, value and color palette often lead people to think my prints are paintings. The world is such an astounding place that I am always in awe. The longer I live, the more things I see. As a literalist, I don’t have much imagination to make things up, so my photography is quite literal.

Prints are two-dimensional, simple representations, using inks on paper, of a vastly complex world. They should be appreciated as prints on the wall, not confused with the real thing. We expect photography to represent “reality,” but with the advent of digital processes, we are distrustful photographs, and seek reassurance of their veracity. While color photography is closer to visual “reality” than any other medium, it may be time to reevaluate the usefulness of this expectation, and allow ourselves to experience the metaphorical and evocative qualities of photography.

It is also quite true to say that no, these prints are not “real” at all. Our physiological perception of color, value and contrast has a very non-linear relationship to the actual measurable, physical attributes of light reflecting off objects. Our brains shift and recalibrate our visual perceptions in many ways, making things look different to us than they measurably are. Individuals perceive the same things differently. Our expectations and projections dramatically change what we see. Visually, it is a world of shifting sands. There is no “true reality.” It all just depends….

---

AFTER THE FLOOD: PATH of DESTRUCTION and RENEWAL: CONVERSATIONS WITH THE EARTH in PHOTOGRAPHS & WORDS, 2014.

---

 RIVERS, THE SONG of LIFE, Foothills Art Center, Golden, Colorado, January 15 – March 12, 2000, Christopher Brown, Guest Curator.

---

BOULDER CREEK WATERSHED, Boulder Public Library, February, 2001

---