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Hi Reader,
We hope your summer is treating you well, and that you’re finding ways to keep creating despite the intense heat settling over so many places.
We just returned from the Colorado mountains and our Crested Butte wildflowers workshop. We arrived to thick smoke from the wildfires burning across Colorado, but the winds shifted in our favor and cleared the skies just in time. What followed was a week of thoughtful photography with a wonderfully creative group, and we came home re-inspired.
From there, we stopped at our property in Ridgway, where the nearby Gold Mountain Fire had burned over 35,000 acres by the time we left. We could see the flames from our land. Ridgway was not under immediate threat while we were there, but the fire continued moving east into wilderness we’ve spent years photographing. It's a strange thing to watch country you know that well burn, and a reminder of why our time in these places matters.
We're now savoring a couple of quiet weeks before Jennifer's surgery in August. It will be a slower month than we're used to, and we're trying to treat that as a gift: time to catch up on photography projects we're excited to share with you.
In this issue: a reflection on photographing when there's almost too much to see, images and moments from our wildflower week, news about where you'll find us next summer, and the official announcement of the Moab Photography Symposium.
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When There's Too Much to Photograph
A wildflower meadow presents a strange kind of challenge. Everywhere you look, something is worth a photograph, and that abundance can leave you standing in the middle of it all, shutter untouched, quietly overwhelmed. Too much beauty turns out to be just as hard as too little.
What we practiced in Crested Butte was subtraction. Not “what can I fit in the frame,” but “what is the one thing I’m actually responding to?” A single flower catching the light. The rhythm of a hillside rather than the whole hillside. When the scene gives you everything, the work becomes choosing.
One of our participants, Beth Young, is especially good at this. She's often hard to spot in the field because she's usually down low, searching out perspectives the rest of us walk past. Here, she photographed through the surrounding flowers, drawing our attention to a single stalk of elephant’s head while allowing the meadow to remain as a soft wash of color.
A small invitation: the next time you're somewhere with more than you can hold, try photographing only what you'd notice if you had just one frame. Let the abundance narrow you rather than scatter you.
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Latest in Nature Photography |
Three reads that stayed with us this month, each pulling at the same thread.
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by Cole Thompson
Cole's writing is always refreshingly direct, and this piece is no exception. He argues that reclaiming your vision means unlearning the rules and expectations you've absorbed, and finding your way back to whatever made you pick up a camera in the first place. "It's like being 16 all over again," he writes, "and that's a feeling I wouldn't trade for a thousand likes." That line alone is worth the read.
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by Javier Delgado Mascareñas
This one comes from the community at Nature Photographers Network, and it's my favorite of the recent member essays. Javier makes a quiet case for improvised sessions and ordinary subjects rather than waiting for perfect conditions in celebrated places, even finishing his images in the field instead of at the desk. It left me wanting to grab a camera and walk out the door, which is the best thing an essay like this can do.
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by Guy Tal
We shared one of Guy's essays just last month, and this new one earned its place immediately. Borrowing Kierkegaard's idea that anxiety is "the dizziness of freedom," he suggests that when you can photograph anything, the sheer abundance of choice becomes the hard part. I've felt that paralysis more times than I can count, and I appreciated his reframe: the discomfort is not a sign you're failing, it's what creative freedom actually feels like.
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It's Official:
The Moab Photography Symposium |
Last month, we whispered about something taking shape in the red rock. It’s here. The Moab Photography Symposium is a four-day gathering for photographers who want to make more meaningful work, built around personal vision and creative process rather than technical instruction. Where our workshops go deep with a small group in the field, the Symposium brings a larger community of like-minded photographers together in one place, something we’ve wanted to help shape for a long time.
Jennifer and I are honored to be directing the Symposium together, and we'll each be presenting, alongside a lineup we deeply respect: founder Bruce Hucko, Colleen Miniuk, Michael E. Gordon, Chuck Kimmerle, Michael Frye, and Stephanie Johnson.
🗓️ April 26–29, 2027 · Moab, Utah
Four days of talks and creative discussions, two afternoons in the field, two evening PhotoJAM gatherings, and a closing session.
Limited to 72 photographers by design, not by venue, because the experience only works at this scale. We've been thrilled to watch registration move so quickly: 44 of those 72 places are already spoken for. Above all, the Symposium is about community, connection, and following your own creative vision. If you're looking for a quieter, more thoughtful kind of photography gathering, this one is built for you.
Early-bird registration: $1,795 through July 31
Standard registration: $1,995
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Where You'll Find Us Next Summer |
Here's something we've hinted at but never properly shared: in 2027, instead of running our own Crested Butte wildflower workshop, we were invited to teach two brand-new workshops as part of the Crested Butte Wildflower Festival. It's the same landscape we've loved and taught in for over 10 years, now set within a festival that has celebrated these wildflowers for decades. It also allows us to offer two very different ways to experience the blooms.
Creative Vision in Bloom
July 6–9, 2027 · $2,995
The slower, more reflective experience. We’ll photograph near town at peak bloom, exploring wildflowers, aspen groves, forest details, creeks, and mountain scenery. The emphasis will be on intimate landscapes, abstracts, color, and pattern. We'll also explore intentional camera movement and multiple exposure for more creative opportunities!
Field sessions will be paired with classroom time at The Depot, including a session on creativity and composition and a processing session where David shares the Rethink method. Best suited to photographers who know their camera and want to grow creatively. Activity is easy to moderate, with elevation as the primary consideration.
High Alpine Off-Road Adventure
July 10–13, 2027 · $3,295
The more adventurous experience. Professionally driven off-road vehicles will take us into remote high country beyond the familiar roadside locations, including alpine basins, wildflower meadows, lakes, and expansive views. We’ll still make time to notice the smaller scenes within them.
This will be a field-intensive workshop, responsive to mountain weather and changing light. Moderate fitness is required, and we will reach elevations above 11,000 feet while traveling on exposed mountain roads.
See Both Festival Workshops →
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Two more workshops have sold out since last month, and most of our remaining 2027 offerings are down to their final spaces. After these fill, our next new workshop release will be the 2029 calendar.
Workshops with Space Available
2027
2028
Join the Waitlist
These workshops are sold out, but spots occasionally open up:
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Whether it's a week in a wildflower meadow, a festival in the high country, or four days together in Moab, the thing we keep coming back to is this: our photography grows when we make it alongside others. We’re grateful you’re part of that, wherever you’re reading from.
We’ll be a little quieter this month as we look after each other, but we’re never far. If you have a question, a photograph on your mind, or simply want to say hello, just hit reply.
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