It is said that the relics of saints can work miracles. Some are able to heal, some exude fine fragrance, and others, like the hand of Mary Magdalene, are reportedly still warm to the touch. From a materialist perspective, it’s hard to understand what’s happening, here. Whether you’re a Christian or not, one thing is for sure; the saints are revered not because of some singular intellectual belief or theological agreement, but for how they lived their lives. This is true of other historical figures. This is true of all of us.
Abraham Lincoln is famed for freeing the slaves, not just talking or writing about it. Imagine if Ansel Adams only talked about photos, and never actually went afield to take them. The late Sebastiao Salgado took eight years to complete his epic photography book, Genesis. The beloved photographer didn’t just discuss ideas of things to photograph, he went to the locations and spent years immersing himself in the ecology and culture. When he wasn’t shooting with his camera, he was living out an adjacent aspect of his project by restoring an old family farm in the South American rainforest. Genesis could not have happened without travel, time, and a tender heart for his subjects. Genesis came to be because it was more than just a thought or idea. It was the result of a particular way of living life.
There are other kinds of relics. Ancient relics give off an adventurous flavor of their own. An individual who lives a long forgotten lifestyle might be called a relic. Today, even ideas are referred to as relics. Ironically, the term is usually attached to something to belittle it, so maybe there are dark relics, things that exude a dangerous magic within. Given that pulling a camel through the eye of the needle is no easy task, it might be that most relics are of the darker variety, which makes the beautiful ones seem all the more bright.
Unlike the saints, my shutter finger will not be venerated any time soon, but like Salgado, I do know there are some things that can only be crafted through action. This action is what I see as my process in photography. It is why I’ve chosen the tactile feel of Fujifilm cameras and why I’ve worked to slow down my shooting, to encounter my subject before clicking the shutter. It is why my subject is not an object, but a relationship.
On a trip to Geyser, Montana, I was asked to photograph a group of upland bird hunters. In the early mornings and late evenings, I wandered over to a wooden gate at the edge of the host’s ranch. I had several sessions at this gate, which included different angles, different light, and alternating color schemes. The images I took were not theoretical, I wasn’t agreeing to some modern definition of what a photograph ought to look like. I was living the life, I was in the process.
And then the magenta clouds billowed out in front of me. The winding road swept outward toward an ancient plateau that reminded me of the giant tepuis in Salgado’s beloved rainforests. The table-top mountains in South America often stand alone, free from other high-rising formations. This unique ecological niche gives way to endemic species found only at specific locations, and then only on the highest levels draped in the humid fog of the jungle. In the indigenous language of the local Pemon people, the word tepui means “house of the gods”.
One of a kind. Standing out. Alone. Rising above. Housing God. These ideas crept through my heart and I saw the landform before me as a saint in its own right. There is a kind of soul out there within the solid rock of the plateau, maybe even hovering above the flattened top. In my more fantastical moments I imagine the plateau to be the relic of an ancient tree whose branches once swayed in the winds of heaven, of branches that once supported saints.
As the color faded from the skies and the night crept forward, I recognized that all of these realizations had come not because I talk write about being a photographer, or for that matter, a saint. The beauty captured in Ranch Relic formed through living the life, by being a photographer. It’s the reason I love what I do, it’s the reason I feel so edified upon my return home. These small glimpses of heaven, the farewell to long gone lifestyles and holy lives, requires something that everyone can do, not just photographers. To venerate a relic, to appreciate the interlaced material and spiritual aspects, we have to walk through the gate. down the winding road, and knock on the door to the house of the gods. If we are allowed to enter, we might yet leave a relic of our own; a hand, a wooden gate, or even a photograph.
Fine art images are fixed to a total of 44 limited editions, irrespective of size. To purchase your own edition, please reach out directly for a consultation on sizing and/or placement in your home or lodge. To view images in person, please visit Griffin Galleries in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, and/or schedule a private viewing.
Lovely and timely having recently returned from Medicine Lodge, Idaho. A bucket list adventure with my son. 🙌🏼