Stories

In another week it will be November, and yet according to the thermometer in my vehicle, it is just shy of 90 degrees. The landscape is no longer saturated in green, a result of the summer rains, but the tall knee-high grass is evidence that the rains did occur. Now yellow and silver in color, the late afternoon sun sends golden rays through waves of grass that flow endlessly over the plain. It is a beautiful scene, one I never tire of, and yet, in this environment finding opportunities for photographs is rare. The terrain is flat, the sun harsh, and there isn’t a hint of water, much less a stream or river, anywhere in the county. Nevertheless, I drive on, watching the miles add up as the landscape remains unchanged.

I often view works from other photographers. Their work never fails to astound. Amazing compositions with spectacular mountains decorated with trees and flora while flowing rivers add a touch of the surreal. more often than not, these photographers use as a backdrop places like Utah, Oregon, Colorado or the Canadian Rockies. Zion National Park and Yosemite offer so much beauty you could accidentally drop your camera triggering the shutter in the process and still come out with an acceptable image. Even in New Mexico, the Organ Mountains near Las Cruces offer endless photo opportunities and several other portions of the state possess unbelievable beauty as well. Those areas of the state are well within reach, but for those of us who work full-time jobs and are just out for a Sunday afternoon drive across a portion of southeastern New Mexico looking for something to photograph, it just doesn’t seem fair. And yet, the search continues.

Up ahead, I see a lonely gravel road off the highway that twists and turns up a small hillside. There is a sign indicating that this is public land. That in itself is a small miracle. Most of the state seems to be private and fenced with signs warning of imprisonment for trespassers… or even worse. I’ve been yelled at, had the state police called out to ask me who I was and what I was doing, all while photographing from the shoulder of the highway. Once, a state police officer told me I could not photograph from the highway because there was an “expectation of privacy.” This was one of the rare times when my college Media Law course came in handy.

I followed the narrow, gravel road up the hill until it opened up into a wide valley peppered with cedar and juniper trees. Stopping the vehicle, I grabbed the camera bag and found the perfect tree. Sitting on an old tree stump, I rested as the temperature began to drop and the sun began casting long shadows as the golden light began to light up the field as only that low setting sun can. After a while, I started taking pictures. One after another after another. Finally, the sun fell behind the Capitan Mountains and yet I continued to sit there, watching that golden light turn blue, and finally, to darkness. As I made my way back to the road, the stillness captivated me, and then rejuvenated me. I didn’t know if the image I had just captured in my camera had any value whatsoever, but the experience itself was priceless.

As it turned out, the photograph did have value. It came out just as I viewed it from the fallen stump in that hidden valley. This is what photography, to me, is about. Seeking out an image that is not placed right in front of you. Making something out of nothing. Anyone can go to Zion National Park and capture a winning photograph. What skill is there in that?

I’m one of the lucky ones. I get to live in Southeastern New Mexico. This is where real photographers are born. And I promise you, the satisfaction I get from a photo like this on a Sunday afternoon is far greater than the satisfaction achieved from a photographer who put his camera on a tripod in front of a world-class scene, pushed the button and knew he had the image. What satisfaction is there in that?