Textural Impressions

The artistic vision of the Native American artists we deal with at the trading post seems to continually capture my imagination. Unlike them, I am unable to recreate my visual adventures in canvas, textile or sumac splits. Through their tutelage, it seems that I am constantly drawn to nature's expressions of texture and form.

From the lowest elevations of this vast land to the high vaulted ceiling of the sky at the edge of space, and many grand formations inbetween, are textural surfaces and views that capture the imagination of my inner, less than artistic, soul. It is with this in mind that I have decided to shed my tunnel vision and open my conscience to the subtleties of the natural world. I recall scenes such as the yellow/orange glow of the setting sun resting briefly on a mesa top, smudged by thin wispy clouds, just before tumbling backwards into some unseen canyon depth at the edge of the world. I intend to spend more time contemplating events such as these and commit them to memory

The inspiration behind this revelation was a recent visit by my wife's twin sister and her family. During their stay it was decided that our group would travel to Bluff to enjoy the spring flowers and to picnic at the swinging bridge. It was a gorgeous day, not too desert hot yet, and the unpredictable sandy winds had decided to cease for a time. Steve had agreed to cover the store while I took some time with my in-laws to share with them impressions of my home town.

Laurie separated from the gathering at the bottom of Cow Canyon to pick me up at the trading post. At that point a slight miscommunication occurred regarding where the group was to meet. I am sure that I had nothing to do with the misunderstanding, and for once kept my mouth shut. I thereby avoided being tarnished by the mishap or being caught up in the web of frustration of further communication.

We scooted out to the bridge to avoid being late for supper. After scouring the area for any sign of our misplaced relatives, and finding no trace, it was decided that they must have misunderstood the directions. We guessed that they had traveled to Sand Island which is at the other end of the valley. So it was back on the road again, with me remaining silent. Sure enough we found them at the new location waiting patiently. After a brief discussion concerning who made a wrong turn and why, we settled into our meal and slowly forgot the mix-up. The close proximity of the red rock cliffs with their underlying structural patterns, and the murmur of the river buffered by the tangled green foliage of the tamarisk, soothed our minds and mellowed our emotions.

After lunch I noticed my young niece Kelsi drag out a camera and begin fidgeting with it. Being naturally curious, I wandered over and struck up a conversation. It seems that Kelsi had been given an assignment in her photography class to seek out and capture images of texture. I am sure that she asked for my assistance since I never intrude into other people's business without an invitation.

As we wandered about, we found a great many impressions of complex patterns provided by Mother Nature. There were highly exaggerated forms in the bark of twisted cottonwood trees. Closer to the river San Juan were white granules of alkali interspersed with tiny rounded stones which had been polished smooth by the action of river water. Bundles of twisted plant life had been spun together before being unceremoniously deposited on the sand as the river dropped in flow. Textural miracles were everywhere we looked. After a while it became clear that it would not be a problem finding extraordinary examples of natural texture; it would simply be a matter of picking those impressions that were most appealing to Kelsi. At that point I shared with her those profound words of advice once generously given me by my good friend Bruce, "The difference between a good and a great photographer is that a great photographer gets rid of their bad photographs."

I greatly enjoyed the time I spent with Kelsi, because it reaffirmed my belief that there is much to see and appreciate without the need to travel great distances. One need only focus on one's surroundings and relationships to find wonder and amazement. The secret is to take the time and make the effort to enjoy them when those opportunities present themselves.

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