Death Valley feels different from anywhere else I’ve been. The stillness is almost unnerving at first—no trees, no movement—just vast, open land stretching endlessly into the distance. It’s a place where silence sharpens your senses. Standing on the salt flats at Badwater Basin, I felt connected to something ancient. Holding the salt in my hands, it struck me that salt has always been a symbol of both survival and preservation. Here, in a place where life seems so fragile, it’s everywhere, etched into the earth like a memory.
But it wasn’t just the landscape that stayed with me. The desert drew me into its world—the nearby towns with their strange, quirky touches, like a giant cow statue or the weathered facade of an old motel. Everything about the area felt timeless, like it existed on the edge of reality.
Waking up early to photograph the dunes at sunrise was a moment I won’t forget. The way the light moved across the rippled sand, creating ever-changing patterns, made me feel small in the best way. The desert has always felt like a place outside of time, a place where beauty reveals itself quietly and without rush. Photographing it was about learning to wait, to watch, and to listen.
Death Valley
Death Valley feels different from anywhere else I’ve been. The stillness is almost unnerving at first—no trees, no movement—just vast, open land stretching endlessly into the distance. It’s a place where silence sharpens your senses. Standing on the salt flats at Badwater Basin, I felt connected to something ancient. Holding the salt in my hands, it struck me that salt has always been a symbol of both survival and preservation. Here, in a place where life seems so fragile, it’s everywhere, etched into the earth like a memory.
But it wasn’t just the landscape that stayed with me. The desert drew me into its world—the nearby towns with their strange, quirky touches, like a giant cow statue or the weathered facade of an old motel. Everything about the area felt timeless, like it existed on the edge of reality.
Waking up early to photograph the dunes at sunrise was a moment I won’t forget. The way the light moved across the rippled sand, creating ever-changing patterns, made me feel small in the best way. The desert has always felt like a place outside of time, a place where beauty reveals itself quietly and without rush. Photographing it was about learning to wait, to watch, and to listen.
