I write this Substack on a laptop in my two bedroom apartment while sitting on a comfortable couch facing a large flat panel television listening to a record as I sip on a freshly ground single origin coffee I purchased from a trendy coffee roaster in the state of Washington after driving ninety minutes in a rental car on my way to the airport to fly home from a four day trip near Olympic National Park where I stayed in a house which sat on a bluff on a property overlooking the sea.
I acknowledge my privilege— as the world seemingly collapses around me.
Understandably lucky to be born a white male into a white family in America, which is essentially all that truly separates me from any human in any country, just a bit of chance, I am fully aware of the safety and freedoms I am able to take part in, including practicing photography.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F7330572d-8fad-47ff-be28-d55956d56248_1000x1000.jpeg)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F64364965-36b5-4d5b-8939-f96c747c16ba_1000x1000.jpeg)
In times such as these, while we drown in an endless stream of content, vitriol, hate, greed, and merchandise it’s often challenging to find the surface to catch a breath of air. And in just stating that I am afforded that opportunity to swim to the surface, is not lost on me. I participate in global events when possible but the desire to, no, the need to, create is exceedingly important to me. It is my personal liberation, my personal freedom (a philosophical debate in itself), my path to some kind of understanding.
There are moments to grasp; to hold on to while your surroundings collapse. I am given opportunities others do not have and I do my best to make the most of them. This process, of making a photograph, of collaborating and creating with others is how I choose to make sense of everything, and even make something, hopefully engaging to not only myself, but to others, in the light of the burning world.
The fourteen photographs in this series were made in collaboration with Rachel in two different regions of the Pacific Northwest over two sessions, each separated by one year, almost to the day. I am planning to release at least a print or two, with proceeds benefitting charity. Please continue scrolling to view the remainder of the series.
![In the Light of the Burning World - Ten and Twelve](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fec159abe-8a5c-44c7-9331-95b11d55550b_1000x1000.jpeg)
![In the Light of the Burning World - Ten and Twelve](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_720,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F5ee7b776-31d2-49cc-ba35-977f2c93910b_1000x1000.jpeg)
This series title, and premise, is partly inspired by a song with the same name, ‘In the Light of the Burning World’ from a recently released album titled ‘Desolation’s Flower’ by Ragana. Scattered through the next several photographs you’ll find the lyrics to the song:
That light from the mountains
Held us in the valley
Full of flowers, blown and blooming
Dust of wormwood on our skin
Autumn blew in like a spell
Roots sleeping while rain fell
Formless warmth enveloping
Lonely but in love with everything
(Nameless in my memory)
(Nameless in my memory)
(Nameless in my memory)
We live in the light of the burning world
We live in the light of the burning world
We live in the light of the burning world
This is the first time I’ve released a series in it’s entirety, to be viewed in one sitting. If you have a few seconds, I’d love to hear your thoughts on seeing it, for the first time, in this manner. And of course how you feel about the series. I truly appreciate your time!
Incredibly haunting and palpably emotional, an epitaph to said world.
4 is hauntingly beautiful. thanks for sharing.