where wednesday [scott mansfield]

[The first 'Where Wednesday' post comes from an artist...my husband, the incomparable Scott Mansfield.  I've been to his place and it's pretty great. ♥sara]

I am honored to be the first ‘Where Wednesday’ guest blogger on Sagebrush Coast, a project that has been in the creative vault for quite some time.  It looks amazing, don’t you think!  This recurring Wednesday post is interesting because everyone has personal spaces they hold dear.  Following the suggestions given on her opening post, “work spaces, outdoor spaces, sleeping spaces, places we visit, places we live, places we drink coffee, etc” I’m going to talk about a place that fits all these for me.

Deep in the heart of the Colorado Plateau lies a crimson valley stripped with ancient geologic striations that ribbon across it in banded hues of red and blonde, marking the ancient epochs with geologic tidal bands.  It is in this hidden place I find myself one crisp early morning in Spring.  There are no trails here, no man markings, no signs only rock and wind, scattered hearty flora and animals adapted to the seemingly inhospitable environment.  I come as an observer, a recorder.  On this morning the slightest breath of wind dances about, lost in empty tranquility.  I feel the same.  With a compass in one hand and my tripod in the other I continue my walk South over broken Navajo Sandstone, toward a distant point on the horizon.  The East is awash with indigo  light.  The air is still again and a morning thrush sings its awakening call to all those who will listen.  Animals here hunt in the cool of night, but my quarry exists in the light; it is composition, trees and rock that I’m after.  I am a landscape artist, and this is my place.  It gets lighter in the East and my brain starts focusing on the play of shadow and low angled light.  There is no past or future while I’m here.  Timeless interaction is what I’m seeking.  To show the motif that exists between the nature before me and myself.  The weight of the tripod in my hand is comforting, an old trusted amigo, unflinching in its desire to accompany me anywhere.  The camera strapped to my back is loaded with rolls of film, and my eye searches on.  This is why I am alive, to feel nature flow through me.  Peaceful, content, happy I continue on as the light in the East grows.

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