Discovering Moments of Essential Happiness

While my photography is rooted in the specific geography of Lake Superior, these photographs are not intended to show what it looks like but rather to evoke what it feels like to be present within it—to experience the quiet transformation that wild landscapes can offer and to reconnect, even briefly, with the natural world.

All of us who have stood on Superior’s shores can recall stepping into the cool lake air, hearing waves swish upon pebbles, and feeling the mind and body quiet as they begin to match the rhythms of the lake. We yearn for this. We need this connection to nature in order to be whole, healthy, and centered. Now, more than ever, in this time of uncertainty and stress, it is important to temporarily unplug so that when we do plug ourselves back in, we can function effectively. When there is time to immerse yourself in nature in person, do so. When that is not possible, taking a few minutes to really look at an image of nature can be an effective substitute. I often visualize myself in such a place before getting my blood pressure taken by looking at a calendar image on the doctor’s wall—I sense a calming effect that may or may not lower my blood pressure, but that certainly makes me feel better!

Much of my work is created while traveling alone by kayak along remote stretches of shoreline for one to three weeks at a time. Along the Canadian shore, it is common for me to travel several days without encountering another person. This extended solitude with the lake quiets the distractions of everyday life and sharpens perception, allowing subtle patterns, atmospheres, and relationships within the landscape to emerge.

Many of my photographs reflect this heightened state of attention. Subjects such as those in Puddles, Vein, and Cloud Reflections might easily be overlooked in passing, yet within the frame of a photograph, they become a portal leading to a brief mindfulness meditation, as we ponder the sky within lenses of water held in bedrock crossed by a lightning-like vein.

Rather than presenting nature as spectacle, these images invite slower engagement, encouraging viewers to linger and reflect. Photographs made from the vantage point of peregrine falcons convey a Superior that includes the atmosphere and the depths beneath the surface. This broadens and enriches our connection to the lake and perhaps facilitates a greater understanding of one another and ourselves—encouraging perceptions from different perspectives, delving beyond the surface.

My Lake Superior imagery often approaches abstraction and resonates with aesthetic traditions found in East Asian landscape art. Fog becomes a form of visual silence—negative space allowing the mind to wander. Patterns in the bedrock echo the gestural qualities of ink brush calligraphy. Reflections dissolve boundaries between sky and water. In this way, the photographs move beyond literal description toward a more metaphorical experience of place.

We can all train ourselves to observe the natural world in this manner. When out for a walk, try going alone and leaving electronics at home. Make a point of savoring the natural world you are passing through with the same intention you might give the first sip of an expensive wine. Notice scents, how the air feels on your skin, the warmth of the sunshine, textures, patterns, and colors—stop and really listen. 

We often move through life so quickly, with our minds so full of distractions, that we fail to absorb the beauty that exists all around us—in nature and in each other. The key to truly great photographs is that they are free of distractions and full of invitations—inviting us to enter the images and the natural world imbued within them. When, in our lives, we make a point of focusing on natural beauty rather than being tripped up by clutter, we allow ourselves to discover moments of essential happiness.