Some photographs find you when you're not looking for them.
Tracey and I were wandering through the historic plaza in Santa Fe when I happened to glance down a covered passageway. Hanging quietly in the shadows was a traditional ristra of dried New Mexico chilis.
Most people photograph them for their rich red color.
I wanted to see something different.
Working in invisible light stripped away the color and revealed something I hadn't expected. Instead of food, I saw sculpture. Every wrinkle, fold, and curve became part of a quiet study of texture, time, and craftsmanship.
Sometimes removing color allows us to notice what was there all along.
Some photographs find you when you're not looking for them.
Tracey and I were wandering through the historic plaza in Santa Fe when I happened to glance down a covered passageway. Hanging quietly in the shadows was a traditional ristra of dried New Mexico chilis.
Most people photograph them for their rich red color.
I wanted to see something different.
Working in invisible light stripped away the color and revealed something I hadn't expected. Instead of food, I saw sculpture. Every wrinkle, fold, and curve became part of a quiet study of texture, time, and craftsmanship.
Sometimes removing color allows us to notice what was there all along.
