With the new month comes a new postcard. Leaves always fascinate me. Not in their collective but in their individuality (a collection of portraits of leaves is in my recent 52/4 journal). This one caught my eye. Let me know if you want to get a postcard of it.
A warm fall deprived us the season’s flaming reds, oranges, and yellows. Most leaves just turned brown and fell to the ground. The frost this morning seemed to be mocking me.
I just sent the files of the latest issue of 52 to the local printer, Fireball Printing. This issue is a collection of photos of leaves, usually just a single leaf though a few pairs of leaves. They reflect quiet fall moments before a breeze or a car disturbs them.
The printed photograph encourages a different, lingering engagement with the image, and allows for sequencing and order that digital photos discourage. There is no scrolling, no share-on-social-media button (no buttons at all, in fact), no likes. Just a series of photographs. Perfect for a cup of coffee, a pastry, and enjoy.
If you would like me to send you a copy, let me know: darin@drhayton.com. You can also download pdf copies from 52.
I tend to spend the fall looking up at the trees to see the autumn colors. I particularly like the early fall as the leaves form a sort of autumnal spectrum of colors, ranging from deep burgundy in the upper most branches of a tree through flaming reds and oranges, to yellows, and on to greens in the lowest branches. The maples put on a particularly lovely display.
But I also look down for the remnants of those autumnal spectra. The other morning after a gentle drizzle, two leaves lay on some paving stones not far from the maple where they had until recently hung.
The arid forests of the Southwest are beautiful in the fall. Against backdrops of blue-gray junipers and piñons the vibrant yellows stand out. Cottonwoods are the iconic fall tree, and for good reason.
But look past the cottonwoods and you’ll see explosions of color everywhere.
Hikes and walks through these forests present chaotic scenes, often without a clear subject. In this way, they offer less popular photographic compositions—given the current vogue for dominate subjects—but call to mind the sometimes messy and busy compositions of people like Eliot Porter.
Even when a single subject dominates the frame, you can’t escape the chaos that surrounds it.
There’s a freedom to photographing the Southwest, a freedom that evokes the mythology of these wild and untamed lands, and the adventures they encourage.
(These photos were taken during a trip to the Southwest one November not long ago.)