Neahkahnie Mountain, Oregon 2004

Robert Adams made this photograph of Neahkahnie Mountain, Oregon with, I imagine, a camera and a lens, sometime in his life, he's still alive. The image is a soft dance of greys, close-up leaves and branches against a pale sky, a reminder that the world keeps happening, just outside of our frame of reference. The leaves, they are not perfect, they have holes, they are eaten. See how the light filters through those gaps, creating these small, bright spots on the darker leaves behind. It’s like a tiny, accidental constellation, a map of small disasters that, when looked at together, make a kind of vulnerable beauty. Adams, he's often dealing with the relationship between nature and humanity. I feel a connection with artists like Agnes Martin, whose quiet work also teaches us how to pay attention. His photographs don't shout, but if you listen closely, they whisper something about time, loss, and the stubborn, persistent beauty of the world, despite everything.