In Parts

West Texas is just far — far from perfect — from over — from anywhere:

I think a 35mm lens asks us to select a subject in the scene, while a 50mm lens lets us point the camera anywhere, allowing the entire image to become the thing.

The 50mm feels closer to how my eye scans; it’s just there with me, not asking much — other than to be present.

The 50mm made me feel a part of something larger in vast places.

Regular equivalents in large format: 150mm (4×5), 300mm (8×10):

Large format taught me that I really needed to walk, scout, and sit with what’s there. Sometimes the image wouldn’t show up until I was almost done setting up, leaving me to wonder, what was that? How did that happen? And then, with the slower process, I had to live with each image through developing, printing, and scanning.

The view camera is a great tool because you spend most of your time beside it, fidgeting with it, assembling it, and unfolding it. You have to compose the frame without looking through the camera, merely using the ground glass to focus and fine tune, and then when you take the picture, you stand beside the camera, locking eyes with the landscape while pressing the shutter. It’s joy, nothing else comes close — maybe a rangefinder.

When you have a large camera, you have to stick to the essentials because the whole thing weighs a ton.

A 50mm lens on a modern mirrorless lightens the load while honoring all that I love about large format.

Digital noise, home development:

I never set out to be a monochrome photographer — just periodically found it as a workaround for a camera limitations.

“In Parts” — place studies met across time:

We’re each creative, you’ve just got to do the work — what’s there will reveal itself — sit and watch.