It is strange how seeing a thing of beauty all the time numbs the senses over time. I live in one of the most beautiful places on the planet, Interior Alaska. Every day my jaded eyes are bludgeoned with majestic mountains, and scenic vistas filled with fascinating and photogenic animals. I checked the location tags in my photo archive, and of sixty thousand images, about 20 percent were taken in Alaska. This seems odd when I spend 90% of my time in Alaska. When I travel, I find there are so many things to see and to photograph that are new and amazing. I take hundreds of photos, trying to freeze each new sight, and spend many cold winter nights working with images of the tropics that surprise and delight.

Last week I had a friend come to visit. We did a large loop of the state, and I found myself both looking and seeing based on my friends enthusiasm. I came back with many wonderful photos, and many questions about how and why we stop seeing what is right in front of us sometimes. It seems sometimes like our brains screen out things that we see and know very well, leaving us blind to the expected but alert for the unfamiliar. I drive work early each morning and see the play of light across the Alaska range, a rugged mountain range that is snow capped year round. Most of the time these are just background, they are expected scenery. Occasionally though, these mountains sneak up on me and dazzle my eyes with their snowy brilliance. These are the days that I marvel at how beautiful Alaska is, and how lucky I am to live here.

I have learned a lot about seeing in photography. I can visualize what I want the photo to look like and use my camera gear to capture that vision. It feels like the next step on this journey is to look past the expected and actually see what is front of me. I have set a modest goal of taking 10 photos a day every day for the month of August of where I live and what I see every day. It will be interesting to view the resulting photos and if I am successful in seeing more clearly.