Every photograph has a story. That's my experience and part of how I share my work. The photograph above, Sod Church at Hof, started with me killing time on the Ring Road waiting for my hotel room.

I pulled off at Hof, a tiny village on the east side of Iceland, that had a perfect little sod church. There were 5 or 6 wooden benches inside, room for 30 or so of the faithful. But the church was closed.

The spot had potential for being a cool shot. But I couldn't see it. Couldn't see how to turn this place into a visual story. I looped around the churchyard, working the location. Noticed the little graveyard just below the mountain. The weird little mounds behind the church. They seemed like where someone might be buried so I didn't walk there.

Then I saw the large Icelandic birch tree. Trees of that size are a rarity here. But this one touched my imagination, especially how it framed the church. It reminded me of the illustration style of NC Wyeth, like out of his Grimm's Fairy Tale work.

The branch was only at chest level. So I ended up laying on my side in the wet grass to get the frame to fit the composition. With landscape photography, you work with what you've got. And the image coalesced.

I've been to Iceland several times, taken thousands of shots, kept a couple hundred. But this image was the only one that's won an award, a First Place at the OC Photo Contest and a Spider Black and White Award.

Sacred Cave, Palos Verdes

This sea cave has a different story. It's located just below the Palos Verdes cliffs, 7 miles from where I live. The challenges here are logistical and technical. First, the cave only receives a couple weeks of direct light, around the Winter Solstice. Kind of like a watery Stonehenge. And humans can only enter the cave safely at low time. Even then, new waves come pounding in about every 10 seconds.

Artistically the first challenge is you're shooting directly into the sun. Compositionally I set it up so the half-submerged rocks on the left led the eye out towards the sun light.

Finally, I wanted to take the shot up another level -- with a long exposure. I've shot this location several times over the years. And with the constant waves and spray, the image can look chaotic, even scary. An 8 sec. exposure gave the location a simple, mythic quality.

The photograph was given a Gold Medal at the Muse Photography Contest and chosen for a couple of gallery shows.

Clouds in the Mountain, Switzerland

This image and Staubbach Waterfall are two of the images that were chosen for the Influences show at the Japanese Cultural Institute in Gardena. The shows guiding theme was for art works that reflected a Japanese influence of some sort. And several of my Swiss shots were strongly influenced by the old style landscape painting of Japan and China.

I've been drawn to those pen and ink paintings since college --paintings that use mountains and expansive vistas to evoke the vastness of nature. Like America's Hudson River School (another of my early influences), the paintings can engender a feeling of awe.

My images from this area in Switzerland (and many shots in my Mountain Portfolio) images use the compositional and layering techniques of traditional landscape painting.

Equus Dreaming, Dolomite Mountains

Landscape photography is generally an art form that can be explored at a fairly plodding pace. Sure, shooting a sunset requires some speed, you've got a hard stop. But generally you can take some time to explore. This image though was pure improve, created in real time.

Italy's Dolomite Mountains are famous for skiing in winter, hiking in summer. But the high alpine meadows are often used by local farmers for grazing.

And while I was hiking in the Alpi di Siusi section of the mountains, I found a herd of horses spread all along the hiking path. So I slowly, carefully made my way through the big animals. And I noticed something. One horse wasn't grazing. In fact, he/she (I'm not good at horse pronouns) was walking quite definitively across the path to the overlook.

Luckily I got the message. And quietly followed at a distance. I created a leading line, focused on the horse, and got in two shots. That was it. I didn't want to ruin a creature's communion with nature, so I quietly went on my way.

In post, I added a subtle bit of magic, keeping the horse and overlook photo realistic. But giving the distant vista a softer, painterly touch -- imagining how the alpine meadow would look through his eyes.

To me, the image suggests something scientists would be afraid to acknowledge, that animals can appreciate the beauty of nature. I had never considered the idea myself. But there it is.

The image won double platinum medals in the 2022 European Photo Contest and was chooses for the Orange County Fair Photography Contest.