Longmont, Colorado 1982 - 1992

Editor: This is Robert Adams' "Longmont, Colorado," a gelatin silver print made between 1982 and 1992. The black and white tones give it a very quiet, almost nostalgic feeling. What captures your attention when you look at it? Curator: Isn't it fascinating how such simple scenes can evoke complex emotions? I see a sort of pastoral melancholy. It reminds me of a time when subdivisions were slowly encroaching on the West's natural landscapes, blurring the lines between the wild and the tame, you know? A lone dog amongst fallen leaves, a gravestone almost, and then there’s the slightly menacing suggestion of a garden shed. It could almost be a tableau, don't you think? What sort of story is this little Westie telling us? Editor: A tableau, that’s an interesting way to put it! I was so focused on the composition - the contrast between the dog's fur and the darker leaves - that I didn’t consider any symbolism beyond the obvious signs of autumn. Curator: And it’s good to linger on that contrast. How he gets that crisp detail. Think about the way Adams printed this! Look at the blacks in the fence posts and the softer, almost cloud-like qualities of the shrubbery. There’s so much detail rendered in the print that seems almost antithetical to the melancholy it invokes. Editor: So, the photo isn't just about what's there, but *how* it's presented too? It makes me consider Adams' technique beyond just "landscape photography". Curator: Precisely! And sometimes, what’s left out speaks just as loudly. Did you also notice the suburban roofline looming between the trees in the background? What does that imply about time and progress in America, do you think? It all begs the question, what happens to "nature" when we "settle" it? Editor: That tension gives the image so much depth. It shows nature, but tamed. Curator: I think you got it! Makes one wonder, eh?