It has been raining on and off all day, and will continue all week. Or year round for that matter. We find ourselves constantly camping in these conditions, and I’m slowly learning why. When water particles add up between camera and subject, the light diffuses into something soft and delicate. This is a contrast to the landscapes and people with whom I connect. The fog sits heavily, muting the colors into black, white, and greens like a watercolor painting from my grandparents’ house. These dreary, isolated elements of the Pacific Northwest are where I draw inspiration for my work.
On the drive to the beach we laughed about the size of our campfire we would have since we all had axes and a chainsaw. Rene bucked the driftwood while Will and I split the chunks and we all high fived over the smell of fresh cut cedar. It was a late rainy evening so we needed the water proof red cedar and we only had yellow. 45 minutes of fire building techniques and we still didn't have anything hot. So I poured some gas on the tiny flame to speed things up but the fire crawled up the fumes into the jerry can and I threw the blaze. With no threat of an explosion, I hung my head at the melodramatic scene of red plastic melting and laughed. That's when Will placed the logs around the flame and built the second largest fire ever.
Threw a stone and waited.