Ian Plant Dreamscapes

Some places haunt your dreams and stalk your living memories. I’ve spent a lot of time photographing the desert Southwest in the past few years, so much so that some people erroneously conclude that I live in Arizona (nope—Virginia). I’ve made hundreds of images, but truth be told I’m just beginning to scratch the surface. Every time I go I say to myself, “I’m sick of photographing the desert, this will be my last trip for awhile.” Yet for some reason I keep going back time and time again, lured by the siren call of sand and stone.   

When stuck in the home office, I often find myself “dumpster diving,” going back through my archived raw files to find images that I had overlooked before, diamonds in the rough just waiting for some polishing. On a first pass, often only the most dramatic images jump out at you, so I think it pays to go back to the source every now and then to see if any unprocessed raw files grow on you over time. Often, the most subtle images do just that—their power is increasingly revealed the more you look at them (whereas some compositions that initially seem powerful fail to hold interest over the long haul). While dreaming of the desert, I made a recent trip into the dumpster, uncovering three such nuggets that I’d like to share today.   

The first is actually a variation of an image that I currently have in one of the galleries on my website, titled Desert Driftwood. While exploring the South Coyote Buttes of the Vermillion Cliffs National Monument in Arizona, I came upon some sandstone glowing with light reflected off of one of the area’s “beehive” hoodoos. I saw a snag of bleached wood resting on one of the rocks, so I snatched it up and placed it in a number of images I made at this remarkable place. The first version was my favorite from that shoot for a long time, but the version I present here has been growing on me. Whereas I like the stronger opposing diagonal lines of the first version, this version reveals a more subtle range of colors and repeating shapes. During the next “spring cleaning” of my website, when I weed out some older, weaker images to make way for newer, more powerful ones, I’m not sure which version will survive.  

"Desert Driftwood II" - Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, Arizona

The second image, taken in Joshua Tree National Park, has been calling to me for over a year. It was made the same evening as two other images on my website, Night Glow and Desert Wave. I made a lot of images that evening, and you can probably tell why: the seemingly endless cirrus cloud that hung over the desert for hours. While the other two images are definitely keepers, this version has grown on me considerably. I like the way the rocks and the cloud force the eye to zigzag back and forth. Once again, it is not clear to me which of the three will survive spring cleaning. Perhaps all of them will. 

"Desert Dreams" - Joshua Tree National Park, California

The final image was taken during my recent trip to Antelope Canyon in Arizona. Antelope is one of the most photographed places on Earth, so I didn’t expect to go in and find anything that hadn’t already been shot a million times before. Nonetheless, I tried to at least find something personal, something that spoke to me, even if not truly unique. Although two other images from Antelope are currently displayed on my website—Phantasmagoria and Canopy of Light—I don’t feel that much of a personal connection with either of them, or at least whatever connection I felt at first has faded over time. The image below, on the other hand, feels increasingly personal the more I look at it. The composition is very simple, defined by a curve of glowing sandstone, although there is a layering of elements that seems more complex to me over time. I am increasingly attracted to the transition of tones from cool to warm, and from dark to light. Maybe I like it because it is different from much of my other work. Other viewers may not react to it the same way I do, but that’s what makes it personal, I guess—the image speaks to me, even if it is silent to others. 

"Inner Glow" - Antelope Canyon, Arizona

Spring cleaning is coming—soon—and not all of my images will survive. Some old favorites will fall, and new ones will take their place. In the process, I hope that I will strengthen my portfolio, retaining those images that not only stir an immediate reaction, but that stand the test of time as well. Of course, only time will tell.