Fire Rings

Over the past 13 or so years I’ve had a mild fixation on fire rings. I’ve always been drawn to the way humans interact with and alter their environment, be it for survival (benevolent, maybe necessary, and well-intentioned regardless of location, or heeding Leave No Trace principles), recreation (may or may not be benevolent, most likely unnecessary, may or may not adhere to Leave No Trace principles), or vandalism (malicious, and wholly unnecessary), and fire rings are features in the landscape that can fit any of the three categories. I’ve mainly gravitated to those fire rings that are on public lands in dispersed camping designated areas, as opposed to those in campgrounds run either by the State or a private campground, I think really because they highlight some inner, or perhaps ancient or primal need, desire, or instinct we have for fire.

Temple Fork Canyon, Utah

I don’t know if all of these photographs will end up as anything; sometimes it feels like it’s a bit of a one-trick pony: if you’ve seen one fire pit you’ve seen them all. But also, I’ve sometimes been surprised, and even a little dumfounded by where people have decided to make a fire. And, in the era of Covid, and having passed through two summers of increased use of our public lands, I’ve been disgusted and appalled by what and how much people have left behind in fire pits, either charred or even melted remnants of the fire there, or whole bags of unburned garbage. And in all of that, I feel like a whole body of work could materialize; I just need to spend some time looking at all the images I’ve made, and make even more. But for now, enjoy a few of my favorites I’ve made over the years.

Left Hand Fork Canyon, Utah

Illegal Fire Ring, Bear Lake, Utah

Franklin Basin, Utah

Willow Creek, Idaho

Along Laketown Road, Utah

Franklin Basin, Utah

Willard Peak Road, Utah

Franklin Basin, Utah

David Shannon-Lier

Clear back in October, Lenscratch had an article in their Art + Science series on the body of work by David Shannon-Lier titled Of Heaven and Earth. The first image in the article, Chalk Moonrise, Muley Point, Utah, pulled me in, since I love long exposures of the moon and sun, but also, there was more to the image than just the long white arc of the moon as it traveled across the sky: on the rocks in the foreground is a light line that matches the radius of the moon's path. 

Chalk Moonrise, Muley Point, Utah

Not only are these absolutely gorgeous photographs, but the concept behind them is so fun and interesting! 

In a LensCulture article, Lier says this about his work:

To produce each photograph, I leave open the shutter for a very long exposure. The result is an image of the moon or sun playing off of an altered landscape. In this way, the heavenly meets with the human, the immense with the intimate and one of the most constant forces in our world—the movement of the solar bodies—interacts with a line of rocks or grass: a mark that is small and completely fleeting in meaning and form.

Badlands Moonset, Badlands National Park, South Dakota

To see more of Lier's work, which I highly recommend, you can visit his website. Also, he's been featured on LensCulture, Fraction Magazine, and Hoctok.

Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge—One Year Later

A couple weeks ago, I went out to the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, accompanied by my father-in-law while Gina watched the LDS General Women's Conference broadcast.

As I mentioned in my last post, Gina and I went out there on our third date. It was my first time ever going there, and I knew that the place had a lot of potential for some really great photographs. The way the land has been altered, and the way the Bear River has been diverted and channelled really draws me in. Since around my time in college, I've been intrigued as to how we humans interact and change the land around us, for better or worse. And as I've been out photographing periodically over the last three or four weeks, I've ended up along the Bear River. Most of the time it's been intentional; I love to photograph water—I always have, ever since I first started learning how to really operate a camera and control exposure. There is a part of me that is concerned that that subject matter is low hanging fruit for me, creatively. It's pretty easy to make a good photograph of water. The land around Cache Valley still remains a challenge to me. Back in 2013, I discussed some of the challenges I faced in dealing with the landscape of Cache Valley, and I think I still struggle with it a little. At least when it comes to subjects of photographs that aren't rivers or streams or other bodies of water. One side of me says to not worry about it and to just stick with what I'm good at. And there's nothing really bad about that. I think it's a valid argument. But there's also part of me—a large part—that realizes that there's no growth in doing only what you're comfortable with.

But, I'll stop rambling for now, and get on with the photographs:

Bear River, East Pass, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Old River Channel, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Bear River, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016

Bear River Diverted Into Four Channels, Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge, Utah, 2016