But this particular scene breaks my typical vision of dunes, where I purposely look for compositions that keep the dunes “pure” in the sense of only showing sand—or with a minor bit of grass or tree for contrast. Instead, these two unusually steep mounds of dune grass completely turned the tables on my original photo quest, becoming the stars of the shoot.

I spent some time carefully circling the humps to locate the optimal viewpoint, walking far enough out to prevent my footsteps from inadvertently ruining the shot. Although I took several images from a few different positions, this perspective—achieved by lowering my tripod to its shortest height and placing it at the bottom of a dune slack—raised the top of the nearer mound up above the horizon, enhancing its resemblance to a volcano.

But the real treat was the scattered sprigs of individual grass plants in the foreground. In this volcano narrative, they took on an entirely different reality, where their blades transformed into ejecta: streaks of dirt blown up from the impact of an eruption… only this time, an eruption of life.

About this Artwork

Entitled, Dune Volcanoes, this photograph demonstrates the glorious sunsets I’m fortunate to capture right from my back yard overlooking Puget Sound.

The work is available as a limited-edition framed print. Its accompanying narrative is etched into a black acrylic plaque, designed to be hung next to the print, as shown in the following illustration.

Click the image below to visit this piece’s detail page where you can read its narrative, check availability and pricing, and more.

Click to visit this artwork’s detail page in my portfolio.

Here’s what I mean.

Photography, like any artistic endeavor, requires both practical and creative effort. For example, the practical aspect involves the development and application of skill—learning how to work with your art; and the creative effort is just that: making your art your own. Bringing a new voice—your voice—into the world, whether through words, paint, sculpture, photograph, or whatever medium you use.

Sometimes the challenge is finding the right balance between these two dynamics, and my own personal struggle has been to put enough practical effort into my planned photo trips to provide specific destinations along with a few conceived compositions without becoming so rigidly attached to a plan that I miss the forest for the trees (sometimes literally).

Let me provide additional specific examples: for any larger photo trip I want to take, I need to put a logistical framework in place that includes where ultimately I want to go, and why. Meaning, not only do I need to determine that I want to visit the Painted Hills found in John Day Fossil Beds National Monument, but why: I want to catch some almost abstract-looking shots of the hills both in the blue hour before sunrise as well as some warmer photos taken shortly after sunrise.

With that specific goal in mind, I start preparations by looking at a map to determine distance and optimal route to take. How long is the journey? If it’s more than a day’s drive, where will I stay en route? What other potential subjects or scenes might be of interest along the way? These additional questions help me tackle the fundamental requirements like where to get gas, park the trailer, obtain reservations or access passes, etc., which are all necessary to get the venture off the ground.

However, I achieve the best results during my trips when the creative eye is constantly engaged. In contrast to all the advance logistics planning that the practical aspect covers, the creative aspect comes alive during the adventure itself. For me, this means following my plan—my roadmap to my ultimate destination—while keeping an eye out along the way for other scenes.

That’s how this photograph of windmills came into being: driving along county roads in central Oregon as I made my way toward John Day, the landscape became an ocean of rolling wheat fields where windmills dotted the horizon like a fleet of ships’ masts on the high seas. My creative eye was intrigued—how to best capture a unique perspective of this scene? Finally, I found the right spot: parking the truck & trailer, I grabbed my gear and spent the next 20 minutes working with the angled afternoon sun and various Neutral Density filters to slow my shutter speed enough to achieve that motion effect in the moving blades.

Of course this image has nothing to do with the Painted Hills—and that’s the point. This was pure serendipity: a place I stumbled upon where scene, subject, and light beckoned me. This is what I mean by being in the moment: enjoying the journey itself, and being open to discovering unexpected opportunities. My best works come from finding that balance between the practical and the creative.

About this Artwork

Entitled, Windmills of the Wandering Eye, this photograph is a dramatic view of a windmill farm in eastern Washington state.

The work is available as a limited-edition framed print. Its accompanying narrative is etched into a black acrylic plaque, designed to be hung next to the print, as shown in the following illustration.

Click the image below to visit this piece’s detail page where you can read its narrative, check availability and pricing, and more.

Click to visit this artwork’s detail page in my portfolio.

I admit I’m spoiled with them, based on my location on a cliff overlooking the waters of Puget Sound in Washington State, USA. From this due-west observation point, nature spins a never-ending sequence of sunsets. Some are soft and dim, being filtered through thick clouds that offer a cold shimmer to the water. Other times the overhead sky blasts forth beams of fiery red and orange, turning the foothills of the Olympic Mountains into craggy silhouettes.

And then there are those jaw-dropping instances like the sunset I captured here. In this case, the smoke from a nearby forest fire converged into a thick sepia band that settled just above the horizon. I brought my camera gear out to the edge of the cliff, selecting my telephoto lens to enhance the size of the sun. 

As the sun dipped into the band of smoke, all indicators pointed to what should turn out to be an interesting show. But this is what’s so exciting about sunsets: you never know precisely what you’re going to get. In this case, the sun’s appearance dropping below the smoke layer revealed a mystical landscape, one where mountain peaks were saturated in blood-red light shafts. The intense glow also provided the perfect backdrop to separate the line of trees in the foreground from the more distant mountains.

While I can say this is one of my most unusual sunset photos, experience tells me there are so many more that await. I simply need to pay attention and head out to the back yard when nature beckons.

About this Artwork

Entitled, Gifts from the Sun, this photograph demonstrates the glorious sunsets I’m fortunate to capture right from my back yard overlooking Puget Sound.

The work is available as a limited-edition framed print. Its accompanying narrative is etched into a black acrylic plaque, designed to be hung next to the print, as shown in the following illustration.

Click the image below to visit this piece’s detail page where you can read its narrative, check availability and pricing, and more.

Click to visit this artwork’s detail page in my portfolio.

I was on the last leg of this photographic journey, having spent 2 weeks roaming Arizona and Utah’s iconic national parks and capturing photos I’d only dreamed of for decades. 

But the universe wasn’t done with me. Taking some byways through northeast Oregon on my way back to Washington, I drove over a hill and came across this scene of golden wheat blowing in the wind from an oncoming summer storm. 

Totally unexpected. Not at all on my agenda. And yet, here I was, on a dusty county road with farmland all around me, the scent of grain, a shockingly cold breeze heralding the rain… 

I stood there, transfixed. This, I realized, is what makes me happy: discovering the unexpected. Capturing singular landscapes that evoke deeper meanings.

That trip—and this photo—convinced me to let go of some of my worries, to leave the soul-killing job behind, and to follow my bliss. 

Best thing I’ve ever done.

About this Artwork

Entitled, Field of Life, this photograph of endless wheat fields under an oncoming storm outside Henderson, OR, USA, is a reflection of the cathartic moment when I realized that landscape photography was my calling.

The work is available as a limited-edition framed print. Its accompanying narrative is etched into a black acrylic plaque, designed to be hung next to the print, as shown in the following illustration.

Click the image below to visit this piece’s detail page where you can read its narrative, check availability and pricing, and more.

Click to visit this artwork’s detail page in my portfolio.

First, there’s something wistful I always find in an empty bench. Perhaps it’s interpreted from that emptiness which represents a missing loved one so well. Benches frequently are crafted in memory of someone, leaving behind a physicality of both seat and plaque to help remind the world of the person who once was.

Another factor is this scene of deterioration, where both stump and bench are crumbling as they slowly submit to the ravages of weather and time. 

I already had the bones of this photograph’s narrative in mind when I returned a few years later… only to discover that it was all gone: the bench had been removed, and nothing remained of the stump except a mound of bark. I can’t imagine anything more symbolic and relatable: our desperate need to keep things static, to prevent the changes that are so integral to life: aging, physical changes, and ultimately death. 

But my intent when creating this artwork wasn’t to focus solely on loss or futility. Take another look at the photograph. Isn’t the setting beautiful? There’s a quiet solemnity in the air, a diffuse light that lingers. It’s a place of power and beauty. 

That’s the message I want to convey: it’s a bittersweet experience that keeps alive the cherished moments of someone we’ve lost.

All we need to do is remember.

About this Artwork

Entitled, Sit and Abide, this photograph of a decaying bench and stump in Olympic National Park, USA, is a story about remembering a beloved family member who has passed.

The work is available as a limited-edition framed print. Its accompanying narrative is etched into a black acrylic plaque, designed to be hung next to the print, as shown in the following illustration.

Click the image below to visit this piece’s detail page where you can read its narrative, check availability and pricing, and more.

Click to visit this artwork’s detail page in my portfolio.