There’s been an online discussion lately about art and copying, the process of creating images that are not the photographer’s personal vision so much as an attempt to duplicate the work of others. In extreme cases some would argue this isn’t art at all, but rather a mechanized form of duplication. The unfortunate result is that many photographers are no longer willing to share information about specific locations, and those photographers involved are missing the opportunity to show the world their own unique vision.

This trend is ironic given that we’re a country born of rugged individualism, and photography above all is a form of personal expression. But it’s no surprise when we are surrounded by such a lack of creativity in society today - movie remakes of 70′s television shows; advertisements using surprisingly similar images; even politicians repeating the same words as if they are uniquely their own. Perhaps this lack of originality is due to tight deadlines and too little time in our fast-paced world, or simply a fear of the unknown.

Before I head off on a shoot (especially if it’s a location I’ve never been to before) I thoroughly research the area geographically and geologically and I’ll also review images of the area as a reference point to get a sense of place. But then after immersing myself in the details at home, I use the travel time to clear my head and fine tune my receptors to soak in whatever the location may offer.

Instead of previsualizing, I prefer to see a place through a child’s eye as if I’m the first ever to experience it. I’ll often avoid the obvious viewpoint whenever possible in favor of an angle that combines the key elements of the scene in a fresh, new way. When that’s a challenge, I’ll try a different lens or shutter speed or perhaps just wait for the light or weather to change.

So dare to be different and embrass the unknown. Find your own unique vision and enjoy the rewards of the path less travelled.

The transition from summer to fall can be a sudden explosion of color or a subtle change in hues depending on how quickly the temperature drops as the autumnal equinox approaches. Equally dramatic is the first snowfall signaling the coming of winter. It might be a light dusting on leaves and branches adding a new dimension to the autumn landscape, or a large storm that blankets the slopes at higher elevations in stark contrast to the bold colors below. This image from the San Juan Mountains in Colorado exemplifies the later and is a prime example of seasons competing for attention – and for the photographer’s eye.

The cliff dwellings of the American southwest are the most spectacular ruins north of Mexico. The Anasazi Indians (or ”ancient ones” as the modern Navajo call them) were the prehistoric pueblo culture that thrived in the Four Corners region between 900 and 1200 A.D. then mysteriously disappeared.

Many of their elaborate structures are well-preserved in national parks such as Mesa Verde in southwestern Colorado, Chaco Canyon in New Mexico, and Canyon de Chelly in Arizona. From three story citadels perched precariously on canyon ledges like Square Tower House above, to the 500 room Great Houses of Chaco Canyon, these skilled masons left a legacy to rival the ruins of ancient Greece.

Archaeologists and scholars still debate what caused their sudden demise toward the end of the 12th century, but the stone handywork of the Anasazi remains a fascinating testament to the vision and tenacity of these ancient people.

Autumn is one of my favorite times of year. Everything in the natural world is in a state of flux and the woods of both coasts are a patchwork of color. Mention fall color though and many people naturally think only of New England and its glowing maples, but the quaking aspen of the west are equally vibrant especially when back lit.

This image was made in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado shortly before an early snow fall blanketed the landscape. A 180mm lens compressed the scene across this narrow valley and emphasized the contrast of aspen and evergreens.