In art, religious works glorify the Creator. Portraits convey personality and status. Still lifes showcase technique. But landscapes, up until relatively recently, were, well, just landscapes.
We now know landscapes can be just as expressive as any other form of art. That doesn’t mean that every picture of the environment is a creative masterpiece. Over the course of a year, a million people may take turns taking a quick picture of Half Dome at Yosemite’s famous Tunnel Overlook. Is every one of them a work of art? Probably not. But then not every snapshot selfie holding a wheel of cheese at a farmers’ market is a deep exploration of what it means to be alive.
As I developed as an artist, the vast majority of my landscapes have been about representing how I felt the moment I took the picture. Sometimes the image is about how I feel about a particular place. Sometimes it draws attention to something I found unusual or interesting. Other times, it’s a proxy for how I felt about something else.
I occasionally like to share the stories behind some of my images both to help people understand my process and to build appreciation for a form of art that has not always been appreciated. This time, I’d like to talk about a new image, Evening Surf, Ecola Creek at Pacific Ocean.
It’s from the northern Oregon coast at a location. The location is personally important to me, but that’s not important to this story. The reason I took the picture is because I was moved by the contrast between the rough ocean waves and everything else. It was during one of the winter king tides when the sun and moon line up in a way that produces an exceptionally large difference between high and low tide. The water was becoming progressively choppier as a layer of clouds advanced across what had been clear blue sky.
If I were to zoom in tight, I could fill the frame with drama, but that’s not what moved me. On my side of the waves, a long line of glaucous gulls casually foraged in the wet sand. Closer still, the sharp bend of Ecola Creek where it meets the ocean dulled the waves to a more gentle flow. And far out, beyond the reaches of the shoreline, the ocean also appeared relatively still.
This scene was so powerful to me that it caused me to race back to my car, several blocks away, to retrieve my camera and tripod. I then spent a half hour producing variations to try to capture the essence of what drew me to it. I tried various compositions with the birds. Small groups on the shore. Large flocks flying through. Then the golden evening light appeared.
I had an image I liked. Then the sun shone like a spotlight on the water near the horizon. That became my new favorite image until that spotlight began to reflect in the creek.
This is an image that you can interpret the image as you like. Maybe you see it as a metaphor for what’s going on in your life. Maybe you see it as an abstract parallel to Thomas Cole’s Voyage of Life series. Or maybe you just see some interesting waves.
There’s no correct answer. I just want you to see that landscapes can be expressive.
(Kevin’s book, Five Minutes in Nature, collects images and stories about his experiences in the wilderness, curated to help you have deeper encounters of your own. Preview and order it here. Prints of his images are available through LivingWilderness.com. Learn about new work by joining his mailing list.)
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