These images are not landscapes in the traditional sense but rather appropriations of the seasonal textures, colors and shapes from a unique locale — Emigrant Lake, Oregon. By squaring these elements within the camera frame, an order is highlighted which weds the local gestalt of a small niche of the landscape with the photographer’s search for a familiar compositional order or in rare instances his discovery of a previously unrecognized or unappreciated natural order.
I think of archetypal psychologist James Hillman’s book The Soul’s Code and his examination of the “innate image” or personal daemon as it informs our unique and individual callings in life.
As I was seeing and taking them, the photos were about design and composition, but from another perspective, were an unfolding theme, a very early chapter of which I remember from my childhood in Holley, New York. For several years, late into the winter season after unseasonably warm weather had melted the snow, I was six or seven and, wearing my grandfather’s fishing boots, would wade through the ankle deep water in an overgrown and untended orchard behind my grandparents’ house, fascinated with little scenarios of tangled branches, mounds of dead wood and sandstone boulders cleared and piled years ago. It is not too different from my experience, in many ways, of taking this series of images of this one particular location, an artificial lake which rises and falls seasonally, gradually, imperceptibly, flooding the riparian areas, creating equivalent (but necessarily different) gestalts to which I respond, when I can see them, by recording their image. Rather than viewing this particular manifestation of a creative process as sequentially related to childhood experience in a cause and effect way, it is personally and creatively more satisfying to consider both in relation to the currents and eddies of my own daemon which calls me to this task of exploration, looking and seeing over the course of a lifetime.
— Jeff Krolick, Ashland, Oregon, USA
My style hovers between documentary and a semi-dreamlike state. I’m constantly searching for what I like to call “clues.” These clues generally represent the initiation of questions that should be asked, rather than answers to pre-defined questions. I never have a set idea of what it is I’m looking for. I simply seek, occasionally finding exactly what it is I wasn’t seeking. For me, that’s the time I learn something new about life: when I discover a new path, a new way of seeing, a new reason for continuing my search.
— Jeff Alu, Los Angeles, California, USA
After Trinity is a photographic project I began in the spring of 1987 and resumed in 2009. As an artist I feel a need to do more than just create aesthetically-pleasing photographs. My hope is to make art that both educates and promotes discussion. Global issues have been part of my consciousness for many years. Nuclear weapons (and their proliferation) entered my awareness after I read about Hiroshima as a ninth-grader. Without a doubt the threat of nuclear conflagration and the on-going technological development of such weapons systems are still causing political turmoil worldwide.
With these ideas in mind I adopted a multi-faceted, anthropological approach for this project. I visually catalog the symbols and artifacts of the atomic era, the detritus of early nuclear testing, and the active (or decommissioned) weapons installations just beyond public view.
For the Proximity subset of the After Trinity series my intent was to photograph the dichotomy of typical rural landscapes that sat only a few miles away from active ICBM missile silos. As Mark Rawlinson puts it in his essay titled Out of Sight, Out of Mind, the Proximity triptychs “gather together the tick-tock of everyday life—the work of the grain elevator, the life of the corner convenience store—with the Minuteman ICBM silos. Abutted in this way, the disjunction between one and the other, long forgotten, becomes chillingly apparent: Out of sight is out of mind.”
— Jeff Brouws
A common misconception of a watershed is that it’s all about the water. While water does play a large part, the land plays an even larger role by directing the water to a common point, such as a river or ocean. Thus human impact on the land directly affects the water that runs over it.
With this project I highlight the relationship between the land, water and man, within the microcosm of the southeastern watersheds. The French Broad and the Tennessee watersheds make up the southeastern quarter of the Mississippi watershed, the largest river basin in North America.
— Jeff Rich