I used to teach regularly at the Jackson Hole Workshop in Wyoming. One year I got a request from Anthony Polvere to teach a weeklong class at Northwest College in Powell, which is about 100 miles from Jackson, as the crow flies, but over 300 miles by car.
I thought it would be great to drive from Jackson Hole to Powell. I found out there was a route I could take that was the highest altitude road in the continental United States.
I was really excited at the prospects. It was a four to five hour drive through beautiful country. It was so beautiful that as each new vista presented itself, I would look at it and say, “Oh shit. It’s magnificent,” and didn’t take a single picture. It was so great and I was so overwhelmed—I was speechless. Except for the repeated “Oh shit” remark.
I expect many of you will understand what I’m talking about. I think those of you who are serious shooters will completely get it: Some things are there to experience for themselves. Photographing them is superfluous.
On the way to Powell, and for no explicable reason, I found myself shooting people and buildings in Montana. I wish I could tell you where I was, or how I got there, but as you know I usually don’t know where the hell I am.
