Many persons, places and things inspire me, but the constant in all is my need for solitude to process them. Notice and observe. Appreciate and learn. Aspire. As a girl, I physically removed myself in order to find solitude in awe-inspiring landscapes. I’d often disappear over the hill to perch on a boulder and write in my diary, an old soul at age seven. Once I got my license, I’d sneak off alone to Red Rocks Amphitheater—back then it was unfenced and open to the public 24/7—to ponder the expanse of Denver’s lights from the last row of benches. The enormity of possibility thrilled me then as it does now when I count the seven layers of mountains between me and Glacier National Park.
An ability to find solitude regardless of my surroundings came as a gift in adulthood. I now understand that the small has no less potential for inspiration than the huge. Lately, I’ve narrowed my focus, literally and figuratively, in photographing nature. I’m inspired by the complexity of simple things when I take the time to notice. In solitude.