Traveling On February 27 2012, 0 Comments
The wide, vast lands of the west have been pulling me toward them for years. The images of the desert running for miles in front of me as I drive the western highways with the mountains rising behind, are too numerous to capture even with the frequent trips I take to New Mexico, Texas and Arizona. It is the quiet, the solitude, the simplicity of a not at all simple landscape that will not relent in its desire to pull me close and keep me there, if only for a time.
I have been living and working in the Low Country for the past seven years. Actually, this is my second rendezvous with the beautiful South Carolina coast. In the spring, there is no other place in the country that allows Mother Nature to show off all her fine glory, as the red, pink, lavender and white azaleas bloom. The jasmine scents the early morning air with its light, sweet aroma. It is truly an extraordinary event for the senses.
Yet, there comes a time, and it always comes, when a
yearning to move on sweeps over me and a call to see what I have not and to photograph
an unaltered landscape replaces the certainty of the home, and the life I have
built in the customary tradition of “normal.” Such a time is again upon me and
I grapple with the uncertainty of yet another move but am unable to dismiss the
realization that I have seen so very little. For the thousands upon thousands of
photographs I have taken, there are thousands more I have not. For the many
ways I have learned to live, there are many more I have yet to understand. And for the cultures of people I have been
blessed to know, the solitude of a speaking landscape summons me so
that I may know it. For some, roads lead them home. My roads lead me forward.
Farewell, sweet Charleston. You are steeped in an era gone by. But life must be more than about the past. Oh great west, I am in route. Your land open to me like loving outstretched arms which now hold my future.