The Artist Beside Me
"Every trail has a story. Mine usually begins with
the woman walking beside me."
Almost every time I head down a trail or wander an old back
road, Nada is with me.
She's an award-winning photographer in her own right, and
while we often photograph the very same places, we almost never come home with
the same images.
That's because we don't really see the world the same way.
I'm the recorder. I photograph what I see, what I
experience, and what catches my curiosity. My photographs are often little
journal entries—proof that I was there, that I felt something worth
remembering.
Nada is the artist. She feels the photo long before she
raises her camera.
She sees light before she sees objects. She notices shape,
color, emotion, and movement. Where I might photograph a weathered barn because
of its history, she'll photograph the way late afternoon sunlight brushes
across one forgotten window.
I've always admired that.
Years ago, we held photography exhibitions called Two
Views. It was our way of celebrating the fact that two people could stand
shoulder to shoulder, looking in exactly the same direction, and come away with
completely different photographs.
Neither was right.
Neither was better.
They were simply two honest ways of seeing.
Our photography reflects our lives together.
People sometimes say ours is a love story for the ages, and
I suppose they're right.
We dated in high school—for all of six weeks. But we stayed
friends.
After graduation, I joined the Navy to see the world.
Life carried us in different directions, and for the next
thirty-two years we didn't speak or know what happened to the other.
Then life, in one of its quiet miracles, brought us back
together.
We've now been happily married for fifteen years, together
for almost 20 years, and I'm grateful every single day that our paths crossed
again.
These days, photography shares her time with her work which matters
far more.
When she isn't carrying a camera, she's walking beside
people during some of the hardest moments of their lives.
As a palliative care social worker, grief counselor, and
End-of-Life Doula, she offers comfort, guidance, and compassion to patients and
families when they need it most.
Around here, I sometimes call her the “Hawk Whisperer,”
because wildlife seems to notice her before it notices anyone else.
More than once she's quietly pointed out a hawk, owl, eagle,
or other creature that I would have walked right past.
She's taught me to slow down.
To look longer.
To notice more.
I like to think I've helped her find a few photographs over
the years, too.
If you've spent any time browsing these pages, you've
already seen some of her influence, whether you realized it or not.
Many of my favorite adventures began because she followed
her intuition and suggested we take one more trail, stop at one more overlook,
or wait just a little longer for the light to change.
Behind many of the photographs you'll find here is another
photographer standing just outside the frame.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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