Moonrise over Turnagain Arm, Alaska

Alaska has an infinite abundance of beauty.

I know that I will never see it all….

So, I enjoy the moments as they are presented, knowing they will never return but recording them as best I can.

This photo was taken in May of 1986 along the Seward Highway just outside of Girdwood Alaska.  We were completing a 4-hour road trip from Anchorage to Seward and back.  Nothing occurred photography speaking during the prior 3.5 hours and then, serendipity shows up!  This photo reflects a lot of my views of landscape photography.  Oh, to be sure, the photographer must be prepared and anticipate what the light is going to do but must always be ready to respond to whatever is presented.

Location:  Bird Point, Turnagain Arm, Alaska

Date:  May 8th 1986

Time: 11:05 pm

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Vincent once said that art is to console those who are broken by life.

Broken by life, I arrived in Alaska in 1982, at the tender age of 20.
It was a desperate move of survival away from my native California homeland and marked a significant departure from the toxic relationship I had with my alcoholic father.
For it was just two months prior that my only brother died in a tragic car accident.
Thus one life ended caused another life to begin.

My only hope upon arriving to my northern land was to lead a life of quiet desperation.
And that is exactly what I did.
Physically, I retreated north.
Emotionally, I retreated inward to the perceived safety of my psyche, spending the bulk of my free time within the woods of Alaska.
Alone.
Always alone.

When one takes a retreat such as this, it often doesn’t end well.
For a solo journey into the psyche can turn into a permanent residency of the abyss.
I am happy to report that my sojourn ended quite well, thank you very much.
Oh, to be sure there were a few years of darkness and despair but by the light of art and the hope of creation, I persevered.

I didn’t choose to be an artist.
For one does not choose to be an artist
I mean why would one rationally choose to be misunderstood by a world that views beauty in the second of a soundbite?
And even if the world thinks they understand the artist, it is only an illusion of superficiality produced by the artist and often times, that illusion is in and of itself a work of art.
For the world is a misguided lot and can never fully understand the mind of an artist.
If they could, one would not be an artist.

In summary, my journey as an artist was birthed out of a broken life.
It has proven far more than a calling but a demand that life has placed upon me for my very survival.

I owe my very life to art.