Stones Unturned

Cody Schultz

Although it was not until 2014 when I bought my first “professional” camera, I believe a part of me has always loved photography. I remember constantly taking pictures around the house, of my family, of our vacations, and especially of Jazmine, my family’s dog. At first, I had thought that landscape photography was boring, not understanding why someone would want to wait hours on end in a single location, just to end up going home empty-handed. Yet in 2016, I found myself doing exactly that. I found myself going on long hikes with my girlfriend, sweating and panting as we walked up steep hills to various waterfalls, often coming home only to realize that none of the photographs I took were portfolio-worthy. The memories shared, however, made it so much more worthwhile than any photograph ever could. And that, I truly believe, is why landscape photography is so special.

codyschultz.com

If I had 1,000 years to live on this rock there’d still be stones left unturned ~ Daniel White

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Washington, D.C., for the first time in a number of years. In fact, it was only my second time ever visiting the capitol: the first was back in 2018 and was part of a college trip for an art class taken at the time. Due to the focus being on a singular gallery, and that gallery being on the outskirts of the city rather than along the famous Pennsylvania Avenue, there was not much seen of the city itself and all it has to offer. So when I heard about a Robert Adams exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, thanks to Jeffery Saddoris on Deep Natter, I knew the time had to be made for a visit.

It had only been this year that I had heard of Robert Adams - through the reading of his Beauty in Photography - but I was intrigued by his work. He was not focused so much on a single genre of photography as he is an *explorer of light*. While he has done quite a bit of nature photography in the past (many of which are conservation efforts, revealing the ecological impact humanity has had on the world and the devastation we so love to cause), much of his work focuses upon everyday life, through the lens of architecture.

When I visited the eight-room showing of his work, American Silence (based upon the coffee table book of the same name), I was fascinated. Not only was the work beautifully crafted, but it also prompted me with numerous questions regarding my own art and philosophy.