On Seeing - 30 Days, 30 Moments
Every photograph begins long before the shutter is pressed.
The more I explore life through the lens, the more I realize that while photography appears to focus outward on a subject, the images we create are shaped by everything we have seen, felt, and quietly found comfort in. Photography may point outward, but the impulse behind it runs inward.
Our creative passions rise from deep within — so deep that it can take years to connect the dots — to recognize where our vision quietly aligns with past masters, movements, and moments. Ultimately, what we find is not emulation, but our own voice. Our style finds us.
What follows is a month of photographs and observations that trace the gradual discovery of a quieter way of seeing.
Journey Complete: July 19, 2026 - August 17, 2026
Day 30 - Order in Chaos
Without looking closely, Alentejo olive groves seem all the same. Orderly rows evenly spaced. However, within that order, an artful chaos is found. Maybe it's the way the trees seem to reach out to each other, or the tall grass that surrounds them. Nature changes them further each day. Fog-bound on October mornings.
As this 30-day exercise concludes, the subject differs, but what I have come to see is not unlike the 29 before it. Quiet spaces.
Day 29 - Lost
This series of images has often been about the fleeting nature of light and season. This is one of those moments, as late-day autumn light paints the tall grass. I have also photographed this scene with bare trees and falling snow.
No more. The wooden fence is now a construction barrier, the tall grass now gravel. The tree is gone. I keep this in mind on photo walks, when next time sounds like a plan.
Day 28 - Seasons End
Late October, and the growing season has finished. A winding path between the orderly rows of a Hudson Valley vineyard. The shadows are subtle but long. The sky is cold, but the sunlight is warm. A moment of transition, in a season of transition.
Day 27 - Hillside of Poppies
An Alentejo hillside in early May. Monet’s poppies come to life. The light shines through the trees and rolls down the hill. Some might see the fence posts as a distraction, but I find their structure calming. Red is a difficult color to tame. Let it be.
Day 26 - Solid Rock
Early Autumn. Green still dominates, but red and yellow are beginning to emerge. The trees form an arch over the dark water, pointing toward the white rock, steady in the pond. I have often returned to this scene and watched it change. Only the rock remains the same.
Day 25 - Backlit Leaves
While grand landscapes and vistas call out to us, a walk in the woods softens the noise. The intimate landscape is not simply a genre or composition. It is a moment we find rather than search for. We sense the small details. A few leaves caught by the light. I would be unable to find this exact location again. And that’s just fine. It would never be the same.
Day 24 - Lines, Shape, Sky
Finding a scene not driven by golden-hour light offers another way of seeing. Carving a relationship between lines, shapes, and sky becomes an exercise in abstraction. A sense of order and calm emerges. The windows and doorway create an implied triangle that subtly pulls the image together.
Day 23 - Summer Arrives
Each year, during the week of the summer solstice, the sun sets behind this Hudson Valley red barn. Each year, I would chase it. It was as much a celebration of the season as the hope for just the right light. With the sun behind the barn, the warmth of the season is revealed in soft light, both in the glow it creates and the shadows it softens. The chase was over.
Day 22 - Time
Soft light still touches and warms the random growth surrounding an abandoned home, seeming to point toward a window, where light reveals a roofless interior.
Time leaves its mark on everything. The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi suggests that beauty can be found in the marks of use, imperfection, and the passage of time.
Day 21 - Silent Sorrow
Artwork, books, music, and even song titles often simmer beneath our conscious thought. If we are paying attention, they occasionally rise to the surface, connecting a photograph to a lingering mood. "Silent Sorrow in Empty Boats", a haunting instrumental from Genesis' 1974 album The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, came to mind. Black and white seemed the only way to express it.
Day 20 - Weathered
I stop almost every time I pass this tree on a walk in Varche, Portugal. Many visits later, I'm struck by how much it changes. Here it seems to melt into its surroundings, while its weathered branches suggest strength and quiet presence. I've read that trees communicate with each other underground. This tree would not be shy.
Day 19 - Gone Fishing
Juneau, Alaska. Coming upon someone else's quiet moment. Pine trees disappear into the mist. The dog's stance suggests this is not their first time here. I notice a line across the water, but can't tell whether the fish is hooked or simply breaking the surface. Photography rarely tells the whole story. The moment remains a mystery.
Day 18 - Across the Seasons
Passing through Skaneateles, NY in the Finger Lakes, mid-winter. Light snow and misty skies. An impromptu stop where the conditions hide the not-so-distant shore across the lake.
Thankful for the clean background, but that isn't what drew me in. The empty Adirondack chairs suggest warm summer evenings and cool autumn nights. A juxtaposition in blue.
Day 17 - Scattered History
A study in contrast. Elvas, Portugal. Scattered leaves on a cloudy November day. A few delicate leaves still hang from the branches. Their softness contrasts with the hard stone walls and watchtower of a fort dating to 1641. The depth of time.
Day 16 - In Motion
Fourteen years ago, despite the sharpness made possible by the digital age, it was the Impressionists who inspired me to ask, "What if?" What if, during my daily train ride through the New Jersey Meadowlands, I used the train's motion to create a broader brush? It is very much hit-and-miss, but the uncertainty is part of the process. Sometimes softness offers another way of seeing.
Day 15 - Arrival
Another scene I have visited often. Sunset in early spring. Usually filled with activity, but on this evening uniquely quiet, with only a lone arrival gliding across the water. Its nearly invisible wake left the stillness undisturbed. Time to go.
Day 14 - Painted Pond
No need for speculation about the time of year. From day to day, each season changes. More color, fewer leaves. Soft light, deeper shadows. Color was everywhere that day, but here it seemed painted against the dark pond. It would not look the same tomorrow.
Day 13 - Last Wave
A surfer's last wave before sundown. It was neither the colorful sky nor the rolling surf that inspired the moment, but the suggestion of the quiet to follow. The surfer exits. The waves seem to soften. The day is done.
Day 12 - Autumn Stream
It is full-on autumn here. Light follows the stream, but my eye is drawn to the banks, where autumn's painterly colors glow against the gathering shade. The trees seem to emit light, not reflect it. The low shadows remind me that autumn's stay is brief.
Day 11 - Timeless
I hadn't intended to make a photograph that afternoon. As I turned to leave my wife's childhood home, the low November light warmed the room and gave a quiet glow to its muted palette. I couldn't help but feel its timelessness. Vermeer and Andrew Wyeth came quietly to mind.
Day 10 - Hanging On
Pathways invite the eye to stroll. The light is soft, the trees mostly bare. A few leaves still hang on but will soon join the others on the ground. Rather than emptiness, I find comfort. It feels as though nature is prompting us to slow down.
Day 9 - Fading Light
Late afternoon, mid-winter. Fading light in the timeless hilltop fortress of Marvão, Portugal. White walls slowly turn blue in the distance. As the light changes, the streets begin to feel the cold of winter.
Day 8 - Incoming
A park in Colorado where I often walked, camera in hand, usually pausing at this small ridge on the first and last stop. Often a blend of warm and cold sky. Often geese or ducks arriving for the night. Always a moment to pause and sense what was changing.
Day 7 - Late Winter
A moment of transition. Late winter, and I can feel a path toward spring. Still cold and muted, yet the last light lingers on the horizon. A day when blue and gray become difficult to distinguish, both in subject and in spirit.
Day 6 - Winding Road
An evening walk I´ve taken many times in Elvas, Portugal. If you show up often enough, the image that has long haunted your mind´s eye finally comes to pass. Soft light, a muted palette, and a final flare of sunlight usher a curving path into mystery.
Day 5 - Into Green
Sometimes images are inspired not by what we feel, but by what we carry. The books, paintings, and music that stay with us. Not to copy, but to reflect. Here, Monet's bridge over his water lilies came to mind. They look nothing alike. Yet the influence gently surfaces.
Paintings are always with me.
Day 4 - Evening Calm
A lone sandpiper strolls the shoreline, almost an apparition, away from the distant flock. Beneath the warmth of the evening sky, a trace of blue hints at night. Individually, an ocean at sunset. Collectively, nature settling for the night. I can't swim a stroke, but I always find calm at day's end near the ocean.
Day 3 - Day's Edge
A distant figure studies the vast ocean. So small within the frame, yet inevitably where the eye comes to rest. Even solitude can be shared. I was only a witness, yet I left feeling part of the moment.
Day 2 - Rest Stop
Seemingly unaware of my presence, a white pigeon paused within the stillness of dark water. There is a special moment when a photograph quietly transforms from of something to about something. While I focused on its face, a calm pleasure came to mine. If a pigeon could smile, it would look like this.
Day 1 - Silent Season
Mid-December, darkness settles over a partially frozen lake. Ducks gather on the last shelf of ice as the day's light fades. It feels like the moment autumn finally lets go. Not yet the solstice, but the season has already turned.
