when i was younger - in middle school and high school, i used to play a game with my friends in class. you would create a grid of dots, lining up the dots in lines horizontally and vertically. each person would take a turn connecting to dots that weren’t previously connected. eventually, someone would be forced to connect the third side to a square, which allowed the other person to connect the final two dots to create a square. once all the combination of dots were connected, we would tally up who had the most squares and call that person a winner.

we’d walk around with papers filled with these dot games turned squares littering out notebooks. in moments of both boredom and curiosity i would begin connecting dots diagonally, then dots across multiple rows and columns. as more and more lines were drawn, some would intersect, creating new dots to be used to further create shapes.

it is, i believe this practice that proved my fascination with line and shape as a younger human, and i believe it was also that practice that furthered my instinct and desire to find new shapes. and i believe that’s a big reason that shapes and line so resonate with me when i’m in nature photographing.

i’d been on a relatively unproductive photograph-seeking hike on this day when i returned below tree line. i’d found a dead tree with some interesting cracks in it providing an interesting pattern and spent a few minutes photographing that. when i was feeling relatively unsatisfied with the experience, yet disgusted enough to know further photographic poking and prodding would produce nothing of significant interest, i stood up, backed away and noticed this fallen aspen whose bark was beginning to fall away. the perfection with which it fell away intrigued me as did the contrast of the colors of the inner core of the tree as compared to the falling and still intact bark.