Neahkahnie Mountain, Oregon 2004

Editor: This is Robert Adams’s “Neahkahnie Mountain, Oregon,” from 2004. It's a black and white photograph of foliage against what appears to be a bright sky. The high contrast and the close-up perspective give it a stark, almost abstract feel. I'm really drawn to the play of light and shadow... What do you see in this piece? Curator: Ah, yes. This image strikes me as a meditation on seeing, and perhaps, not seeing. I find that it makes me pause, asking questions of perception: What do we focus on? Is it the form, as in the jagged edges of the leaves? Or is it the negative space—that bleached-out sky hinting at something vast and unknown? Adams isn't just documenting; he is revealing a dialogue, and indeed, a quiet struggle between the delicate tracery of branches and that great nothingness beyond. Editor: That’s a cool read. A "struggle" is such a human term to apply to the natural world. I mean, sure, in my environmental studies class we're always talking about nature's struggle to survive, but does Adams intend such commentary, do you think? Curator: I would venture to guess it is certainly not didactic! Rather, Adams asks *us* to confront those struggles, ecological or existential, via formal questions that seem more urgent and personal than political. It's quiet activism through observation, if you will. Like looking up through branches while lying on your back, contemplating mortality and finding beauty there. What could be more moving? What seems less immediately *useful*? Editor: I hadn’t considered it in that light. It felt bleak at first glance, but now it seems… hopeful, somehow? Curator: Indeed! That bright space hints at transcendence. I think Robert Adams's gift is precisely that delicate dance between despair and that glimpse of what might be. Always implied. Always tentative. Editor: Well, I certainly learned a new way to "read" Adams today! It will change how I present him in class! Curator: That's lovely. It has prompted a good deal of thought for me as well!