My Photography Journey: Light as Quiet Presence
My lens first opened in Colorado's high country—trails winding through aspen groves turning gold, mountain peaks standing silent like ancient watchers. In those days, camera close on long hikes, I sought not just vistas but the subtle connections: wildflowers bending in the breeze, elk grazing distant meadows, light shifting across stone and snow in timeless rhythm. Each frame is a moment of stillness—simply being with what is.
That pull toward high places led to Denali's summit in 2000. Breath thin at the top of North America, I stood where earth meets vast sky, camera holding the white silence and raw wonder of limits met and honored. No striving—just presence shared with the mountain.
Sweden's Leksand lakes came next, where soft northern light and midnight sun invited layered captures. Villages mirrored in still water, birch forests glowing gently, families gathered in quiet harmony—shots that held the hush of community, the flow of seasons without force.
Now Sibiu's pastel streets and shadowed cathedrals unfold in my newest series, "Sibiu in Color." Baroque organs bathed in gold, cobblestones curving like old tales, winter light framing families strolling Piata Mare—here the lens finds everyday grace in motion, elder stone holding stories, children's laughter echoing off walls.
Somartin's series stirs soon—quiet Saxon houses under rising woodsmoke, hills surrounding the village like gentle guardians, Carpathians looming distant on the horizon. Close views of soil and barn beams, Frida's wild play amid the fields—each click a breath: presence in the moment, wonder in the ordinary.