Abstraction
Between Seeing and Feeling: A Study
I’ve always been drawn to the spaces between what we see and what we feel. This series began as an instinct—an urge to let go of sharp edges and lean into something softer, more emotional. The forest, the grasslands, the shifting light—they all became raw material for something more internal.
These images aren’t meant to explain. They’re meant to evoke. A memory. A mood. A breath held or a fleeting dream. Working in abstraction has allowed me to explore a different kind of truth—one that isn’t bound by realism, but rooted in the way a moment can linger long after it's passed.
Alongside new work, I’ve also included select images from other series—photographs that, while originally part of different bodies of work, share this same instinct toward abstraction. Together, they form a kind of visual conversation: glimpses of nature distilled into gesture, light, and emotional residue.
"Interim"
This image is my interpretation of the quiet in-between—those fleeting days when summer hasn't quite let go, and autumn is just beginning to take hold. I used intentional camera movement to blur the scene into bands of green, gold, and rust, allowing color and motion to take the lead over form. Rather than photograph individual trees, I wanted to capture the sensation of walking through a forest in transition. Everything felt fluid, alive, and momentarily suspended. This image is about change—not just in the landscape, but in ourselves as we move through our own seasons.
"The Light Between"
This image an attempt to translate feeling into form. I used intentional camera movement to let the forest blur into something more abstract—less about the trees themselves and more about the sensation of being among them. The golden sugar maples were glowing at their peak, and as I moved the camera, the light stretched into vertical ribbons that reminded me of how fleeting and fluid autumn really is. What emerged feels like a memory more than a moment—like being wrapped in a curtain of light, suspended between what’s fading and what’s just out of reach.
"Silent Reckoning"
This image is my attempt to move beyond a literal representation of the forest and into something more felt than seen. These sugar maples were at their peak, glowing with golden light, but what stayed with me wasn’t just the color—it was the atmosphere. The way the trunks stood in near darkness while the leaves shimmered like echoes of something half-remembered. I used motion and selective focus to create a softer, more abstract impression. For me, this photograph became a meditation on change, memory, and the quiet reckoning that comes with the passing of seasons.
"Golden"
I was drawn to the way the golden maple leaves seemed to float in front of the dark trunks, like flecks of light suspended in shadow. This image is less about a specific place and more about the rhythm and repetition I saw in that moment—how the forest transformed into an abstract tapestry of color and contrast. It became more about form than forest, a composition where structure and pattern took precedence over location. I wanted to capture the feeling of being enveloped by autumn, where the boundary between the tangible and the poetic begins to blur.
"Aspen Dream"
Quaking aspens have always fascinated me—their leaves shimmer and dance with the lightest breeze, giving them their name. But what’s even more remarkable is that an entire grove can be a single living organism, connected by an underground root system. The Pando grove near Moab is one of the largest and oldest living things on Earth, and it's part of what first drew me to this landscape.
If you've spent any time with my work, you know how much I’m drawn to trees. There's a quiet poetry in their form, resilience, and rhythm—and aspens, with their luminous bark and fluttering golden leaves, are among my favorites. I made this image in the La Sal Mountains outside Moab, just as the trees reached their autumn peak. The light, the color, and the stillness of that morning came together in a way that felt like standing inside a living flame.
"The Gesture"
I came across this tree deep in the Smokies, glowing like a beacon in the understory. The twisted trunk, reaching into a canopy of yellow, felt almost like a gesture—expressive, weathered, full of character. I was drawn not just to the color, but to the shape, the way the branches moved through space like a line drawn with intention. I wanted to preserve that feeling—the vibrant chaos of fall held together by the quiet grace of structure. This image is less about the tree itself, and more about the moment it becomes something more: a mark, a memory, a flicker of movement in the woods.
"Becoming"
I made this image in a small area where the grasses were just beginning to shift with the wind. What drew me in were the colors—deep purples and luminous greens—and the way the seed heads caught the fading light. Rather than focus on sharp detail, I wanted to create something softer and more immersive, where the boundaries between foreground and background would begin to dissolve. This photograph isn’t about the field itself but about the experience of standing quietly within it. For me, it’s about transition and becoming—where nature feels like breath, gesture, and memory, all woven into a moment that’s already slipping away.