The earth we abuse and the living things we kill will, in the end, take their revenge; for in exploiting their presence we are diminishing our future.
This year has been saturated in loss and grief, feeling like my heart is busted on the floor, evaporating like water. That the ground beneath no longer exists and the air has all but left the universe. Through pain and hurt, the medicine of wildness, again, has shown my heart, although busted, was also busted open. Morning rays of light from the range have started to illuminate the busted pieces, and a space that felt so dark and scared has started to fill with light again.
In losing my mare, my heart, I had lost my muse as well. Scared that nothing good would ever come from the work again, the year has been blanketed in a rage of fear like I haven’t known before. Fear not being a stranger, - so everything was overwhelmingly fragmented, claustrophobic and impossible to comprehend.
An experience on the range this last trip, changed that. My gratitude for mother nature is larger than I thought possible. Never to be measured with anything tangible. Hope is returned that through the work, the stories to share of wild horses, wild lands and experiences "the muse" won't be lost again. She never really was, I just needed to find my way back to both her wings and mine.
Photographing wild horses is not just about capturing their beauty, its about capturing the beauty in the way they live, breath and where they call home. Its one small way to show others what actually exists and is available to us. It pains my heart to hear that so many don’t even know these horses and these lands exist. These public lands are ours to enjoy - they are also ours to protect and preserve.
May you all have some hope in each and every day.
May wild things be free . . . F O R E V E R ~