# About Wesley

For those who don't know, creating art can be terrifying. Let me explain.

Generally, artists rake their innards for crucial bits of individuality, talent, and inspiration, and then work this matter into a medium consumed by appreciators of artsy things (e.g. you).

Getting to this moment when an artwork is complete takes tireless exploration and curiosity, and judgement won largely through failure. It takes a powerful dose of bravery, frankly, since the response to so much artwork is that nothing happens.

There is no response. This is a common experience for artists, including those with actual talent.

This begins to explain an abundance of overly-filtered, overly-processed, obvious images in venues like social media and online bazaars, where photographers chase the dopamine hits of "likes" and pretty! comments these images can produce.

It all starts to become clear...a flashy image, even when it's an epic cliché, acrues likes and pins and pinches or whatever pretty easily. Some photographers adapt this into a form of currency.

Smart? Annoying? You be the judge. The point is that I recognized this early in my practice of photography and concluded, like many before me, that photographing from trodden overlooks—Sunrise Point in Bryce Canyon or Zabriskie Point in Death Valley NP, for example—was a good thing.

Hence, I learned how to employ a camera kit while visiting some of landscape photography's most iconic spots. And for a while, this was great. I traveled, got my fair share of dopamine, and learned.

Yet as a whole, this experience ultimately revealed digital photography's potential for soulessness. That's when the actual work began.

Why I Photograph

I need the places I photograph, but for a time forgot this. When I considered popular photography as the thing, I went to places for photography, which jumbles up what's important about photography.

This became apparent when well-received images of mine began to feel bereft of anything meaningful and personal. I'd made image-getting the object of my practice and in so doing, abandoned a core reason for why I pursue anything, let alone photography.

I need the places I photograph, but allowed a desire for recognition as a photographer to supplant inspiration. More than this—I abandoned the matter, the artistic process. So I course-corrected.

In a time when many can choose how and where to spend their time, I've structured my life around wilderness adventure. It's in furry, unkempt places, where sometimes I'm scared and always vulnerable, that I find the purest fulfillment.

Armed with wisdom of earlier days, I pack a camera on these trips. If it stays in its bag, OK. When some confluence of what I see or think or feel presents, maybe I'll try for a photograph. This approach shares the virtues of being fun, not at all constrinaing, and highly probable to produce good work.

That's the point, I believe, and emblematic of what you will find in my collections.

About My Prints

If you know anything about photographic printing, you know it's a deep well of knowledge, experience and technology. I love it, and have make great effort to produce the finest prints possible.

Obviously, I work in a color-callibrated environment. I do this at home, in my studio (which has been painted a lovely 50% grey, in case you wondered).

I primarily use Canson's Baryta Photographique, a really superb paper specifically made for digital photography, on Epson printers with Epson's Ultrachrome K3 archival pigment inks. I also really enjoy Canson's Platine Fiber Rag for prints that are meant to be held.

My prints possess vibrant color, deep blacks and fine contrast that cannot be seen in digital images compressed for the web. You can purchase my photographs securely from this website, and I provide a warranty, something you can read about here.