The Artistic Benefits of Full Time Travel
When most of us travel, we travel with family or friends in order to see a specific location. We are burdened with schedules, both self imposed as well as those of travel partners. As tourists, we shoot first and ask questions later, taking photos of the things we want to remember, or perhaps the things we want to avoid forgetting. We capture snapshots of buildings and landscapes as we pass by, struggling to adequately appreciate them as quickly as possible so as to not miss out on the next overlook and lose an opportunity to see something else worth seeing, while also remaining on schedule.
My professional career has been dedicated to working in different roles in the photo industry. These roles have brought me pleasure in varying degrees, some much more than others. Of all the ways I’ve been associated with photography, being outdoors and capturing the natural world has satisfied my soul the most. The excitement I get from being immersed in an incredible vista is intoxicating. Its that feeling you get when your heart is in your throat, not because you’re afraid or nervous, but because of pure excitement; though depending on the circumstances, maybe a little fear too.
The prospect of bottling the fleeting feeling of wide eyed awe, and the other emotional responses that come from almost not being able to contain one’s self and distilling those experiences into a single image is worth chasing.
Up to now, traveling has allowed me to make images in some spectacular locations, but only a few times has landscape photography been the singular purpose of a journey. The dedicated shooting trips I have taken have been amazing experiences, but there have been too few. More often, Tiffany and I travel to hike, explore, and experience a particular region.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a bad thing. Hiking and exploring with Tiffany and the pups is easily my favorite thing to do in the world, and photography is often a large part of these excursions. Tiffany knows that when we go on hikes, particularly in new areas, that we’ll be stopping often to examine a scene and maybe take some time make a photograph. She’ll probably want to stop a few times too in order to shoot some wildlife. And while I’ve been able to make images I truly enjoy and am sincerely proud of on trips like this, traveling to a location with the singular purpose of making great images is my end game. No time limit. No distractions. Nothing else to do.
The bus represents a lot of things for Tiffany and myself. It represents freedom, determination, and a relatively newfound awareness of our ability to overcome some serious doubt as well as some physical and mental obstacles. Perhaps overarching all of this is the bus acting as a manifestation of our willingness to make sacrifices to achieve what we truly value. To that point, the bus is allowing me to achieve something I’ve wanted for years: to spend extensive time in choice locations to make photographs, and to have the ability to bide time until the conditions are right for the image I want to create; all the while having the most important person in the world comfortably in tow.
Naturally, I want to to share the work that gives me so much excitement. I do that by exhibiting a portfolio of my work on my website, www.zachenderson.com. If you are so inclined as to want to own a piece of the journey, I’ve made it easy to acquire fine art prints for display in your home or office. Some of my favorite landscape images have already been made available, and more will be added as we travel. The pieces currently available represent my work in the landscape. If you’d like to purchase a print, don’t buy one without using the promo code rollingvistas for 15% off.
I have several other fine are projects currently in production that will be available in limited editions. If you have questions about a particular piece, or would like more information, I’d be happy to talk with you.
We’re nearly there. I can taste that freedom. I itch to make the work I’ve envisioned for years. I have a fever, and the cure is not more cowbell; it is to make photographs.