The Why of My Photography

For as long as I can remember, my instinct in the world has been to understand how things came to be. When I look at a glacier, my mind naturally begins calculating the deep time locked in its ice—how many miles it spans, how many seasons of snowfall built its mass, and how slowly it carves the earth beneath it. When I travel, ancient ruins leave me quiet, but tasting a regional dish sparks an urgent curiosity about the land, the soil, and the cultural necessity that shaped it. Wonder, for me, has never been a passive state; it is an active inquiry fueled by lifelong learning and creativity.

For decades, my camera was simply a record keeper of these travels and family milestones. When I took it underwater while scuba diving, I discovered that the lens could reveal hidden micro-worlds my bare eyes missed. Yet the technical friction of the housing and effort to take each photograph competed with the very awe I sought, forcing me to leave the camera behind to prioritze presence.

In retirement, however, photography has transformed into something entirely new. Through deliberate practice and workshops with generous artists, the camera has evolved from a distracting barrier into an instrument of deeper observation. It has become the bridge between my intellectual curiosity and my emotional experience of the natural world.

Nowhere was this clearer than in the high meadows of Crested Butte. With a macro lens in hand, my curiosity was sparked to see and understand the intricate anatomy of a single bloom. But standing among the wildflowers in the early morning, something deeper took over. I found myself bathing in the golden light filtering through lavender lupines, marveling at dew glistening on varigated foliage, and shifting mere inches to reveal how the light transformed a monochromatic patch of ferns into a rich tapestry of tone and texture.

This is the heart of why I make photographs. My images exist at the crossroads of the naturalist and the impressionist. The camera forces me to slow down, to look beyond the surface of a grand vista, and to engage intimately with the living systems around me. I do not photograph simply to document what a place looks like, but to translate the visceral sense of awe, connection, and understanding I feel within it—capturing a fleeting moment of natural beauty and rendering it into a personal, enduring expression of wonder.

Reflections on My Why and My How Toward Black Lives Matter

I’ve been struggling to make sense of recent events that have impacted us all in profoundly meaningful ways - and disproportionately to black Americans.  These impacts start with the health and economic impacts of the COVID pandemic and are exacerbated by ongoing violence and oppression through our criminal justice system. 

• Black Americans are 3 - 3.5X more likely to die from COVID than white Americans

• Black Americans are 35% more likely (16.8% vs. 12.4%) to be unemployed at this moment

• George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Rayshard Brooks (and too many more!) have tragically been murdered at the hands of the police.

While the murder of George Floyd - and the casual behavior of the police officer that represented a total disregard for (a black) human life was horrifying, it was the casual behavior of Derek Chauvin as he was killing George Floyd that reminded us that Black Lives (need to) Matter - and mobilized millions in protest demanding change.  

But it was this video of the murder of Rayshard Brooks that shook me to the core.

We received a call from the police in the early morning hours after our son gathered friends at our lake house to celebrate his 18th birthday.  They were holding him at the police station - and asked me to come pick him up.  I was greeted at the station by a friendly officer who told me that he’d had trouble awakening our son who had passed out on the dock.  When he awoke, he thought his friends were trying to throw him in the water so he tried to defend himself with his wrestling skill, speed, and strength and nearly pinned the officer to the dock before he realized that he’d been awakened by a police officer.  He quickly backed off and surrendered to the police.

The parallels to the Rayshard Brooks situation were stunning.  Both were intoxicated, both were passed out - without risk to anyone’s safety, both were awakened by the police, and both cooperated with the police.  But the endings of these stories were markedly different.  Our son walked away from the incident without consequence while Rayshard Brooks was shot in the back by an officer who knew he was unarmed.

It’s difficult (impossible) to make sense of the fact that our son faced no consequences from his actions - while Rayshard Brooks faced the ultimate consequences … for essentially the same action. That was, until I saw this post by my friend, Lederick Horne on Facebook - that served as a jarring reminder that these statistics are not accidents - and represent the result of centuries of systemic oppression of black people in our country.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise because changing systems lies at the heart of my teaching about Social Entrepreneurship.  But I missed it … that is, until now.  My favorite article on the topic is The Water of Systems Change (FSG, 2018) which reminds us the design of the system is a reflection of mindsets and beliefs - so if we really want to make change, we need to work on belief systems.

And maybe, the sudden moves across the country to reign in militaristic policing and shifting funding from policing to social / community support represent evidence that mindsets may be shifting - as the result of many years of organizing by Black Lives Matter and other leadership around these ideas.  But more change is needed - as eloquently pointed out by Nikole Hannah-Jones in Is it Time for Reparations - that changing discriminatory laws is necessary but real justice, real progress can only happen when we address the economic impact of slavery and more than a century of oppressive policies have enforced a wealth gap for black Americans that can only begin to close with financial reparations.  

As I think of the work that we need to do as a country to adopt a mindset that’s ready to address reparations, I’m a bit overwhelmed … is the country ready?  Where do we start?  What can I do that can possibly make a difference? But then, I remember a story that is taught at City Year - that reminds our Corps members about the impact of their service:

I recently read America, This is Your Choice by Michelle Alexander in the NY Times that starts by reminding us that “Our democracy hangs in the balance.  This is not an overstatement.” She draws a parallel between fire hoses pointed at protesters in the Civil Rights Movement that awakened our moral conscience and prompted us to take a bold step forward, with the videos of black people being assaulted in plain site with wanton disregard for their humanity that have been a catalyst for demanding justice now. 

Her essay lays out a roadmap for our country to move forward - that resonated with me personally as first steps on my own journey to support whatever change we can accomplish in this moment:

• We must face our racial history and our racial present

• We must reimagine justice

• We must fight for economic justice

She ends the essay with a message that helps me hold on to hope - and also feels a bit like a call to action to get involved in this work:

“Our only hope for our collective liberation is a politics of deep solidarity rooted in love. In recent days, we’ve seen what it looks like when people of all races, ethnicities, genders and backgrounds rise up together, standing in solidarity for justice, protesting, marching and singing together, even as SWAT teams and tanks roll in. We’ve seen our faces in another American mirror — a reflection of the best of who we are and what we can become. These images may not have dominated the media coverage, but I’ve glimpsed in a foggy mirror scenes of a beautiful, courageous nation struggling to be born.”

So, what is my starfish?  What small actions can I offer toward the transformative changes that are needed?

The first step on this journey has been to educate myself about our racial history and racial present by exploring perspectives that can inform & shape my beliefs about “reimagining justice”. 

A brief comment on the importance of this step - before I made any commitments or decisions about where I might contribute my skills.  I believe it is vital to connect with our WHY before we take any HOW actions … because without this (deeply personal) connection, I feel that anything that any commitments or decisions would risk falling to the wayside like so many other New Years resolutions of the past.

And for me, this connection happened when I watched the video Rayshard Brook’s murder - and found myself wrestling with my white privilege and the connection to vastly different outcomes in his life and for my son’s.  And the realization that my white privilege did not (necessarily) offer me or my son any advantages - but rather that Rayshard Brooks’ outcome was VERY LIKELY determined by his lack of this same privilege.  It’s this distinction that helps me move forward in this moment with less feelings of guilt - and more understanding about the importance of supporting efforts to deconstruct these harmful constructs.

The other advice I want to offer is that this journey takes work - and the work is ours to do.  Through many conversations with friends of color over the past few years, I’ve come to understand a severe emotional burden they feel with the racism they experience in their everyday lives. So educating me and other white people about their racial history and the racial present they experience places additional undue burdens on them.  

So I’ve decided to share a few of the most impactful sources of my learning journey - with encouragement for you to explore other resources (many are available) to answer the questions you may be having.

• The Seeing White podcast, presented by Scene on Radio - provides a history of whiteness as a concept and illustrates how these beliefs have shaped the society we live in.

• The 1619 feature in the NY Times magazine offered a brilliant collection of essays and other pieces to reflect on the 400th anniversary of enslaved people arriving in America … before the Mayflower and Pilgrims.  The project was produced by Nikole Hanna Jones, who recently won a Pulitzer Prize for an essay she wrote as part of the project.  For me, the six-part podcast that was produced as part of the project made powerful connections between the historical origins of racism and contemporary stories of its impact and persistence that exist in plain sight … but had been previously invisible to me.

• In March 2019, Bari and I visited Selma, Alabama then to Montgomery for the Legacy Museum and the National Monument for Peace and Justice.  These experiences brought the legacy of American slavery and the Civil Rights Movement to life - and helped us to understand the need for our country to acknowledge and heal from its history of terror and violence that lynchings inflicted on African Americans.

• Dr. Martin Luther King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail was written in response to criticism from clergy about the illegal and impatient nature of civil rights protests.  What stood out for me was Dr. King’s worry about “moderate whites” who urged patience for a “more convenient time” to demand their freedom.  Reading these words that were written 60 years ago makes me wonder if we’ve been too patient to acknowledge that Black Lives Matter.  The time needs to be now.

• I felt like Lee Pelton, the President of Emerson College was speaking to me directly in America is on Fire when he wrote: “This is not a black problem, but a structural issue built on white supremacy and centuries of racism. It’s your problem. And until you understand that, we are doomed to relive this week’s tragic events over and over again. What changes will you make in your own life? Begin with answering that question and maybe, just maybe we will get somewhere.”

• I’ve already mentioned “It’s Time for Reparations” from Nikole Hannah-Jones - but don’t skip this one for a cogent and compelling argument about origins of and damaging effects of the wealth gap between Black Americans and the rest of the country that persists as a legacy of slavery and systemic racism.  And importantly, how reparations are needed to acknowledge this history - and begin to repair it.

• I’ll end this brief list with an essay by Diane Hessan, Its Past Time for White People to Step Up, that she published on Junteenth reminded us that racial justice is everyone’s problem and challenges us to make 2020 the year that “we all finally commit to ensuring that all Americans have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”

Several months ago, I began mentoring Kyle Quadros, the founder of Tilo Learning, as part of his participation in the Institute for Nonprofit Practice.  Tilo takes a radically different approach to education reform and community building that challenges us to move beyond symptoms of the problem and take a science guided, trauma-informed approach that addresses the root cause of the challenges facing our students and their schools.  Coaching Kyle has been transformative to me in so many ways.  I’ve learned so much about the linkage between racism and poverty and its effects on children that can cause permanent changes to their brains that reinforce many of the symptoms we observe in society.  This experience has helped me understand and reflect on the racial history and racial present - and provided insights into radically different ways to solve the problems we face in our communities. But the most important impact of my relationship with Kyle has been the opportunity to talk openly with Kyle about my own journey as a white man to understand my privileges, to explore many blind spots, and to offer greater clarity about my role in any change that needs to happen. Perhaps my greatest insight has been about the need to elevate the voices and perspectives of people with the lived experience and proximity to the problems we face in society - because they see the problems differently with clarity about the root causes and with hope and optimism that progress is possible.

So, what is my starfish?  What small actions can I offer toward the transformative changes that are needed?

As I reflect on what I might offer to the fight for economic justice, I believe my greatest asset is the deep well of expertise of social innovation and social entrepreneurship that I’ve developed - and my skills around strategy and leadership coaching. I know I need to find ways to contribute these to community leaders like Kyle whose work is committed to improve educational and health disparities, reimagining criminal justice, and working toward economic justice.  

I don’t yet know which leaders or which projects most need my support - but I am actively searching for opportunities to support them and hope that whatever I do will matter in some small way.

And a final thought about the power of the starfish story. 

Social movements happen when people and communities share a common vision for a world they want to live in - and work independently, in small ways until this vision is achieved.

I imagine a world where our combined “starfish” efforts work together toward a common vision for racial and economic justice. An insurmountable movement that will shift mindsets, result in new laws and policies, and a society that truly works for every person equitably.