Perspective in a Real New World Order

I remember when I was younger, my grandparents would tell me stories describing what life in our country was like at the end of the war (WW II, that is). They told me stories of incredible jubilation and relief; stories of enormous crowds of folks gathering on Main Streets across America to celebrate victory and the end of war. I also seem to remember something about people banging pots and pans, but that may be the result of an impressed adolescent's imagination. No matter the details, the message was always the same: incredible community, togetherness, and unity. While I wondered what that felt like and, in some way, wished to experience the sensation, like most people I wasn't optimistic that I would.

I too remember another memorable moment, just six weeks ago. I was driving home one afternoon listening to National Public Radio's live news broadcast; not something I ordinarily do. I felt different that afternoon; hell, I was different. All of the chaotic events of that day kept unfolding before our eyes and my ears. As I arrived home, I had just heard Congress spontaneously begin to sing "God Bless America" on the steps of the Capitol Building in Washington. I had never heard anything like it in all my life. I'm not sure I will ever again either. This couldn't be my generation's "pots and pans"?

As our elected officials sang, I looked outside my car at the aspens, the house, and my garage. My God, that's all different too. Even now, I'm not completely sure why or how, but as I looked and listened, I just started crying. I sat in my car, listened to a suddenly unified Congress sing above the radio's static and cried like I hadn't in a long, long time. The world had been forever changed in a God-awful way and everything in it now looked profoundly different. In ways, I could not have imagined while my grandparents told me stories of American life in 1945, I had experienced the national unity I had wished for. Why did it have to happen this way?

That week was a tough week for all of us, although some of us, unfortunately, have not been able to leave that day behind. Like everyone else, I tried to move forward and resume my life. I tried to get back to work; whether it be market research, reading about the latest photographic techniques, preparing to teach a new class, or going out and creating something on film. Yes, all that looked different too.

I looked at some of the amazing work of my peers, as well as some of my own photographic creations, and was amazed that I could not connect. It seemed as though my ability to care about the images was gone. For so long, my photography has been a source of comfort and pride…something I could understand…something I could escape to. Standing over the camera and tripod in the field, I would get lost in the world within the viewfinder; nothing else mattered. I even forgot that anything else existed, let alone mattered at all. It was truly a wondrous thing. That week, even that was different too; it was gone.

However, change is constant and hope springs eternal. I kept picking up the camera and getting out there. Time had started to heal the wounds; I was beginning to feel it again. True, the world around me still looked different. The difference became obvious to me as each day passed; the landscape was more precious and valuable than ever before. I appreciate the Rockies' natural beauty in a more profound way after September 11. I see things that I hadn't seen previously. Just a few short weeks before; my work seemed irrelevant, unemotional, and unimportant. Now, it seems more important than I thought possible.

As our civilization "advances", as technology changes the face of certain sections of our planet, I believe it is still extremely important to remind ourselves where we are. I believe it's important to put our existence in perspective; what really matters. Landscape photography helps us accomplish this. It not only shows us the beautiful places in a grand way; it reminds us that we humans are just one part of Earth. While the beautiful landscapes around us remind me of our place, it also reminds me of what is inside of each one of us; if we allow it to thrive. It's the exact component we saw of Congressmen and women on September 11. It could be seen by our tears and by the valiant efforts of those who support and fight.

As our society deals with the shock, suffering, and anger of September 11, it is my hope that individually we will take the time to appreciate what we have. I hope that each of you will take the time to gaze upon a landscape photograph with a rejuvenated spirit. Whether it's on your computer screen or on a wall in your home, I hope that you will marvel at what has been captured: the world's beauty, in all its forms. Landscape photography, and those who strive to produce it, has not lost anything because of September 11. To the contrary, it has gained a new relevance and sense of importance. As you view my work, or anyone else's, I hope that you can escape, if just briefly, to see your own version of our new world. Maybe, just maybe, you'll see a little of what I see.