William Jordan Whitson
"Would you tell me please which way I ought to go from here?" asked Alice.
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't care much where," said Alice.
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"-So long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that." said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
-Carrol, 1916
I was born and raised in the DFW metroplex, where I spent a lot of time watching Lake Ray Hubbard from my backyard. I'd get to see blue herons fly across the lake, listen to the gentle waves crash against the seawall or watch the sunset over the lake with the Dallas skyline mysteriously rising from the horizon.
The summer before high school, my parents moved us to Riverton, Wyoming. As soon as I got my license, I started driving to Sinks Canyon outside of Lander. I spent a lot of time in that area and eventually took some college courses through the CWC, NOLS outreach program. That place carved a permanent space into my heart.
I've been taking photos since I had a flip phone, but things really shifted in 2017 at a TOOL concert in San Bernardino, CA. I caught a special moment during one of the opener's set. A guy in the crowd stood up, lit a cigarette, and stretched his arms upwards to the sky with closed eyes like he was meditating. The sun had just set and the heat that day had been intense. Most of us were wearing black shirts so we could all relate to this guy. It was a visual testament to the relief that the arrival of dusk provided. Simple and maybe a tad foolish but that photo I took always reminds me of the sacred in the unplanned and fleeting.
These days, I chase those moments with more intention. My work is rooted in landscapes, wildlife, graffiti artwork and the way people navigate through it all.
