The Edge: There's often a bit of edginess involved in the undertaking. I head out alone most of the time in secluded landscapes and there is often an element of fear involved. Sometimes it's the obvious stupid human tricks, straddling cactus, mistaking a javelina for my dog, followed by wild cats, dodging snakes, survivalists living on the fringe, the black nights, the sound you hear outside the tent in the middle of the night, falling off ledges, falling in moving water. The unknown, that's the edge and I'm strangely drawn to it.
A transformative experience so perfect in its timing and condition. All the while being fully cognizant that I was in the middle of a moment in time that would render me changed. I would often stop and look behind me as though I knew I was leaving a part of me behind. It was almost as if I'd entered a different awareness. I'd experienced an extreme sense of clarity and understanding. A feeling that every single moment of my life had purpose and had lead me right to the place I was standing. A memory of myself as a child flipping through National Geographic and wanting to be where I was at this moment, then realizing, I was there. That child and I were one and the same, time seemed static. An absolutely powerful and euphoric experience. Photography compels this type of journey and beckons me to that edge.
The minuscule human in the landscape is me, metaphorically speaking. Photographing this became a way for me to understand my own significance. We are small, frail and limited. These magnificent landscapes will long outlive us. We are not unlike a firefly illuminating the night a flicker at a time. To us, that flicker is a lifetime of family and friends, love and laughter, legacy and memories.