I cannot remember a time when the natural world has failed to hold me in awe. Whether it is the delicate reflection of a branch on water, or the towering granite monoliths of the Sierras, I cannot help but be enthralled by the creations of nature.

From the age of four to eighteen, I lived in the Northern California town of Mendocino. A small coastal community of a few thousand, it sits on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, surrounded by foggy redwoods. Complemented by numerous streams (for exploring), old fire roads and single-track trails (for mountain biking), sea caves and arches (for kayaking), windy bluffs (for slope soaring), and towering trees (for climbing and fort building), it was an amazing place to spend one’s formative years.

Throughout this time, I came to be increasingly attached to the untouched, (or minimally affected), natural environment. There were sections of single-track to which I was drawn not so much due to the rush of the ride, but rather by the way the trail so fluently moved through a stand of redwoods. There were sections of coast that, when the surf was stormy, yielded massive explosions of water. There was a skinny cypress that curved, in a perfect upside down U, completely over our meadow. I never let my parents cut down such a “dilapidated” tree. To me, it was the most interesting tree in our yard.

However, a fascination with such things can be difficult to relate to others. It was not until I discovered photography that I became able to translate my wonderment of nature into a tangible, visual vehicle of expression.

Although I started photographing in color, I quickly formed a powerful attachment to seeing the world without it. Black and white drew me in, and maintains its hold, for two reasons.

First, black and white is a departure from reality. The world becomes reduced to its physical, textural, and tonal fundamentals.

Second, and most importantly, the black and white photograph is an interpretation. The black and white photographer makes a conscious effort to alter the observed scene. Whether the decision is to draw attention to a white rock, or to print a dark forest very light, the black and white photograph departs from the scene as it was recorded, and becomes the photographer’s interpretation.