The Natural State in Four Seasons

I'm happy to announce that an exhibition of my work, titled "The Natural State in Four Seasons," is now on display at Laman Library in North Little Rock. The show contains 33 photographs taken across the varied landscapes of Arkansas over the last fourteen years.  Locations in the show include the Buffalo National River, Blanchard Springs and Hot Springs National Park. But there are also pictures from less visited locations, like an oxbow lake in the Delta or a waterfall deep in the Ozark Mountains.



There are many things that Artificial Intelligence is hurting, and one of those is the art of photography. True photography requires skill and patience, and the ability to be at the exact right place, at the exact right time, with the exact right conditions (along with a fair amount of luck). It is much more than fake images attempting to be a lame facsimile of reality. It is my hope that this exhibition showcases photography for the art form that it is, one that is under assault from those who see it as nothing but “content” to post on social media for us to see between ads and scams.



One of the photographs in the show is of the setting sun hitting the summit of Pinnacle Mountain, which makes it look as if Pinnacle Mountain is erupting. This photo was taken from Two Rivers Park Bridge, and there is only a brief period every year where the sun and mountain are perfectly aligned for this to occur. In order to get this picture, the horizon also has to be clear. Clouds in the sky can obscure the sun, even clouds that are hundreds of miles away.



Other photographs represent similar moments - a swirl of fallen leaves caught in a current below a waterfall. Thick fog reflecting the bright lights on the Clinton Park Bridge, turning the night sky into a deep shade of purple. The explosions of fireworks over the State Capitol Building, captured by the camera during a 1.6 second exposure. These images could have probably been much easier achieved through some Photoshop edits, or some prompts on AI. But the photographs on display at Laman Library represent real and decisive moments. Ones that I hope serve as a reminder of how powerful and important photography can be.



To view the other photos in the exhibition, please visit HERE.



The exhibition is open now, and I'd like to kindly invite anyone reading this to please head on down to Laman Library to check out the show (2801 Orange Street in North Little Rock, gallery is on the second floor). There will be an opening reception on Friday, Oct. 18th, from 6-8 PM. The show will be on display until November 27th.



Here is the Artist's Statement I put together for the show:

It was almost what you’d imagine hiking through a rainforest would be like, except we were still in Arkansas. A storm earlier that day had saturated the woods, turning the leaves into a deep green too vibrant to be real. Water puddled on the trail, which at times looked more like a small creek flowing through the woods. The only sounds were raindrops hitting the trees and the wet squishy sound of our hiking boots in the mud.

The trail was heading towards a waterfall as unique as its name - Fuzzybutt Falls. It is a delicate 16-foot-tall waterfall, sitting at the end of a short and narrow box canyon deep in the Ozark Mountains. It started to storm again when we arrived. The sounds of heavy rain, combined with the splash of the waterfall, created a cacophony of sound that echoed off the rocky canyon walls. But those canyon walls also provided shelter from the rain, allowing us to freely move about without worrying about getting soaked. We spent a lot of time there taking pictures, from just about every conceivable angle, reluctant to leave. Eventually we set the cameras down and just watched as the raindrops rippled across the creek, and the waterfall slowly and steadily increased its flow.



I know it sounds cliche, but sitting under those rocky bluffs while a storm raged on was a peaceful and sublime moment; one of those rare moments when things seem to perfectly converge, when you are at the right place at the exact right time you need to be there. The photographs in this exhibition are more than just snapshots. Each one represents a unique moment that I was lucky enough to capture with a camera. I’m humbled and grateful that you are here to see them.



Increasingly, it seems that photography is being devalued in our ultra-modern and overly-online world. Photographs are being reduced to nothing more than content on social media feeds, squeezed unceremoniously between ads and spam. But photography is much more than just a way to get likes and engagement. At its best, photography is a way to showcase and document the world and our times. To paraphrase a quote: We don’t just take photographs, we ask quietly to borrow a fraction of time. To preserve that fleeting moment, which would have otherwise floated on like raindrops hitting a creek.



These photographs were taken with either a Canon 6D or an Olympus E-30, between 2010 and 2024. They are the culmination of countless trips spent driving or hiking across the state, from the Delta to the Ozarks. I would like to thank Richard Theilig and everyone at Laman Library for hosting this exhibition. Also I would like to thank Matt Kennedy and Zack Andrews, my hiking and photography buddies, who accompanied me on many of these trips (including the one to Fuzzybutt), and who helped make sure I didn’t get lost in the woods or fall off a cliff.



And I cannot thank enough my wife Caroline for her encouragement and infinite patience. And also my sons Jonah and Elliott for all the times they’ve indulged their father stopping to take a picture of an old barn. I would never have been able to take these photographs, or put on this show, without their support.

Star Search

I saw on the news that there was another solar storm, which meant that there would be another chance to maybe see the northern lights again. Most of the predictions didn't really go as far south as Arkansas, but I thought I might head out just in case.

I decided to drive out to an abandoned church north of Conway. Jonah wanted to tag along, which was surprising since I didn't think standing next to an abandoned church in the dark in the middle of the country was an exciting activity for eight year olds. But we drove out there, and there were no northern lights, of course. But there were lots and lots of stars.



And even just a little bit of the Milky Way too.



Apparently, there was a little bit of Northern Lights in the sky last night, just barely visible in northern Arkansas. We were off by two days in our attempt, oh well. Better luck next time?

Markham Street

It was a rainy night when I headed out to downtown Little Rock to try to take a few pictures. I parked the car and walked along Markham Street, passing by the Pulaski County Courthouse.



The courthouse was built in 1914.



Down the road, I stopped to get a picture of the Old State House reflected in a rain puddle. Luckily I didn't drop the camera in the water...

Tony Hawk

Went outside the other day and was greeted by this hawk hanging out in our front yard. Luckily he(she?) was kind enough to wait around a few minutes for me to go and grab my camera and zoom lens. The hawk had found a squirrel for dinner (I'm guessing its the one that had gotten plump this summer eating all the food from our bird feeder).

Burns Park

I drove through Burns Park the other day, the first time I've been there since the park reopened after last year's tornado. The damage there was immense. The little Funland amusement park was completely destroyed. Many of the park's pavilions were damaged, along with the RV Park and the soccer fields. But the most notable change is the trees - or the lack of them. The tornado took down over 20,000 trees in just Burns Park alone. You can easily trace the path of the tornado through the park, following the long gash where it looks like the forest was mercilessly clear-cut.

But the tornado just narrowly missed a few of the park's most notable landmarks. The old pioneer cabin, built in the 1850s, was just outside the tornado's path.





Luckily a lot of the park's forest remain undamaged:





And the Burns Park covered bridge was undamaged by the storm as well.



Which is good, since all residents of North Little Rock are contractually obligated to get at least one portrait taken at either the Old Mill or the Burns Park covered bridge (I say as a native of Dogtown).





It'll be interesting to see how the park changes, as new growth replaces the lost trees and a new Funland is built.

Star Search

Last week I got a message from a photographer on Instagram (Jason @dream.tones) who was wanting to meet up and get some Milky Way pictures while he was going to be around Little Rock. We decided to visit a few abandoned churches in the Delta area around Scott and Keo. It was a pleasant evening, the heat of the summer had finally broken and it felt like Fall was finally approaching. Plus it was mostly clear, just a few light clouds in the sky.

We eventually ended up at an abandoned church near Keo, one that I've taken lots of pictures at in the past. There were lots of stars overhead, and the Milky Way even made an appearance. There was just a little bit of distant light pollution (from Pine Bluff, I think).



Across the street from the church is a small cemetery, which had this really interesting tree growing in it. So we headed over and tried to get a few shots of the tree with all of the stars above. Luckily the light pollution here (from Little Rock, I think) was kinda helpful, since it helped to silhouette the tree against the dark night sky.

Branch

The small town of Branch sits in the very southern tip of Franklin County, in western Arkansas. Branch was founded back in the early 1900s along a rail line that connected several coal mines. That rail line and the coal mines aren't around anymore, but there are a few old buildings still in Branch.





North of town is this abandoned church, tucked away amongst some pine and oak trees. It's been so dry this summer that some of trees are already starting to show some fall colors.





The tall grass in front of the church was home to a large population of grasshoppers, who leapt and jumped out of my way as I walked around the building for pictures.

Lake Conway

If you've driven down I-40 past Lake Conway recently, you might have noticed that it's not really a lake anymore. The lake was emptied in order to start a five year project to clean the lakebed and to build a new dam on Palarm Creek. It's the first time that the lake has been emptied in 75 years.

I used to work in Conway (at AETN, many many years ago) and I used to head out on my lunch break to take pictures around Lake Conway. So I was interested to see what it looked like now, without water. It's been a hot and dry summer here, and in some places the lakebed has turned into a plain of dry and cracked mud.





Walking out onto the dry lakebed was a little eerie. It felt like the lake would have been the perfect setting for some sort of dystopian post-apocalyptic movie, with the cracked mud and old tree trunks jutting out of the ground like shards of broken glass.







Every once in a while you'd see a random piece of debris, which had probably been resting underwater for decades. There were several pieces of cinderblocks, along with some old beer cans and bottles. And also what looked like an old sunken boat.



The old lakebed wasn't completely devoid of life. There were a few plants trying to grow on top of the cracked mud. I'm definitely not a plant expert (as proven by our large collection of dead houseplants and our yard filled with weeds), but this almost looks like a pumpkin vine?





The formations in the cracked mud happen when "wet, muddy sediment dries up and contracts. A strain is developed because the top layer shrinks while the material below stays the same size. When this strain becomes large enough, channel cracks form in the dried-up surface to relieve the strain. Individual cracks spread and join up, forming a polygonal, interconnected network of forms called 'tesselations.'"



I walked around, trying to take pictures of the interesting patterns in the mudcracks...



At one point, I noticed that some of the mud was a slightly darker and different color. I got closer, thinking that the change in color might make for a good picture...



And it turns out that the mud is a different color because it's not completely dried out. The cracked layer on top isn't thick enough to support someone walking on it, which is bad news for anyone foolish enough to step on it.

So it was a bit of a surprise when I took a wrong step and sunk into the mud, down almost to my knees. There wasn't anyone else around, so luckily no one saw me struggling to extract my legs out from the murky depths of Lake Conway. The mud was a dark gray, and it smelled pretty bad. This was the view after I made it back to solid ground.



After that I learned my lesson and stuck to the drier areas.



There are lots of old tree stumps sticking out of the ground still, which I guess have been here since the lake was built in the 1940s?







After that I headed back to the car, leaving muddy footprints along the way...

Road Trip: Dallas

Luckily we didn't need to head home just yet. My wife's family has a reunion every year, where assorted aunts and uncles and cousins all gather together. This time, the cousins in Dallas were hosting. So from Glenrio, we cut across Texas and headed to the metroplex. It was a bit of an adjustment after being in the mountains of Colorado (with its cool temperatures and low humidity). In Dallas, it was about 100 degrees.

But we were able to attend a game of my beloved FC Dallas while we were there. It was a good game, despite us sitting outside in the heat. Dallas played Portland and actually won(!), and since it was the 4th of July there was a fireworks show afterwards. And during the game, there was also a pretty nifty sunset over the stadium.



We then headed home, and concluded our long road trip. Total miles driven were exactly 2,707. It was a great trip. We passed through five states, visited three National Parks, and saw some amazing scenery. And there was no car trouble or flat tires! Now it's time to start planning the next road trip. Where should we go next?

Road Trip: Glenrio

Glenrio sits on the border between Texas and New Mexico, and was founded in 1903 as a stop along the Rock Island Railroad. Route 66 was routed through the town in the 1930s, resulting in several hotels, gas stations and diners being built. But in the 1970s, Glenrio was bypassed by the interstate. It steadily declined, and turned into a ghost town.

I've made a few stops here over the years. Glenrio was an interesting, and forlorn, little town. I was eager to make another stop as we drove by, but I was incredibly disappointed when we exited the freeway and drove through. Most of the old buildings in Glenrio are gone, either collapsed or torn down. And almost all of the few remaining buildings here were covered with graffiti.

It was a great reminder of why we should take pictures of old buildings. These old places can be lost or destroyed so easily, or ruined by vandalism and graffiti. It was depressing to see how much Glenrio had changed.

One of the most prominent buildings in Glenrio was an old motel, built in the 1950s. Depending on which direction you were traveling, the sign would say it was either the "First Motel in Texas" or the "Last Motel in Texas." The building still stands, but it's a shell of its former self. The roof is gone, and the walls are covered in graffiti. I didn't even bother getting a picture of it this time, the damage was so severe. This is a photo of the motel from 2010:



The ruins of a gas station was just down the road from the motel. But it is gone now. Here it was in 2010:



And then again in 2015:



The gas station was next door to the old post office, which was one of the last places to close in Glenrio. This was the view in 2010 along the divided highway, which was built back in the time when there was traffic in Glenrio. Now both of these buildings are gone. Now a weed dispensary sits here.



There is, luckily, at least one old building that has somehow managed to survive being torn down or covered with spray paint. It is the Little Juarez Cafe, which was built in 1952.





My son Elliott, who just turned four, is obsessed with cars. And also with the movie Cars. We were watching it the other day, as we often do, and I had to quickly pause it. There in the background, in a scene where Lightning McQueen and Mater were talking, was a building that looked awfully familiar. It turns out that Pixar based one of the buildings in Radiator Springs on this old diner in Glenrio. It is actually shown a few times in the movie, originally as the "Glen Rio Motel." In the epilogue here, it turns into a racing museum: