There is an enchanted coordination within the details of the natural world.

I started taking violin lessons in third grade. I hated to practice, but my parents would insist that I play for at least half an hour each day. I took private lessons through the end of high school. Along the way, I had the privilege of playing in several orchestras. I never really appreciated playing in an orchestra. I wonder how I would feel about playing in one today.

In my pre-teen years, I was also part of a men and boys choir. I was among those boys, gathered in rows of robes, singing in crystal clear voices.

There is something really amazing about orchestras and choirs. Perhaps it's the large group of people, each with their own talents, textures, voices and parts. When they all move together, they create something wonderful, something larger and outside of themselves. For those few moments, the participants are together toward a common work. The process is invigorating. Everyone present is a participant, whether they are on the stage or in the audience.

This fascination has tumbled into an appropriation - at first subconscious and now intentional. I'm viewing nature and considering the orchestra. And, it feels appropriate. The little pieces are all working together.

These photographs explore a sense of rhythm and story in natural forms. The images are true to what was seen through the lens, but rather than represent a location, they are composed to reveal a level of interaction beyond the items themselves.

There are stories throughout history of people going into the desert to find God. The clutter of life is stripped away, leaving ourselves, the wilderness and the open beauty of a patiently carved landscape. These images are from two trips through Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon, which meander through Arizona and Utah.