I've been broadcasting dead air here while I was in Texas shooting a large assignment for the Natural Resource Conservation Service (NRCS), an agency within the U.S. Department of Agriculture. These kind of jobs are the reason I am photographer—to see interesting places, people, and things, or as often is the case, to find the interesting aspect of seemingly mundane things. Agriculture is not overtly photogenic, there is a lot of soil and empty spaces, but this particular assignment was riveting. I saw every area of Texas from the Panhandle to the Rio Grande Valley, putting about 6500 miles on a rental car in five weeks.

Environmental photography is steeped in the John Muir school of preservation and remains relatively untouched by the more utilitarian concepts of conservation proffered by those like Gifford Pinchot, Teddy Roosevelt's forestry chief. Photographers like Ansel Adams or David Muench have always trafficked in the transcendent mysticism and wonder of nature. The efforts of these and a great many other photographers have been instrumental in preserving the remaining intact ecosystems in this country, but it is only half the story. Unlike preservation, conservation is not very romantic, nor does it provide the aesthetic values inherent in large wilderness areas. It's not as poetic. In fact, it eschews the poetic, preferring a prosaic, utilitarian view of nature. It does, however, have the compelling advantage of putting food on the table. A conservationist would probably chuckle at Muir's characterization of trees in a forest as "lordly monarchs proclaiming the gospel of beauty like apostles." Pinchot described forestry as 'tree farming.' Yawn. If you're trying to get a million signatures on your petition to set aside public land or a few bucks to cover operating expenses of your political action council, are you going with 'tree farming' on your publicity material when you could have 'lordly monarchs?" I didn't think so. As such we are constantly exposed to a specific aesthetic when we see images of nature, one that emphasizes grand, isolated areas either untouched be people or peopled with the intrepid souls who challenge mountain faces and race wild rivers (they generally wear gor-tex with well placed logos, too). I won't be very critical of this because my conception of nature isn't that far from Muir's, but from an artistic point of view when a certain look or technique has become so entrenched that it seems like it is the only way to view a subject, it is time to step back and make a critical examination. It is too easy to become complacent, accept an inherited aesthetic, and miss an opportunity to look at things with fresh eyes.

This is the one thing I enjoyed most about this job. We focused on subjects with which I have at least a passing familiarity: conservation, biology, science, the landscape, but in completely unfamiliar contexts. The NRCS promotes traditional conservation in the mold of Gifford Pinchot's wise use ethic: "wisely to use, protect, preserve, and renew the natural resources of the earth." Almost all of their work is on private land in cooperation with landowners—vitally important in a place like Texas where more than 90% of the ecosystem is in private hands. And while so much of our interaction with our government is painful (who wouldn't rather spend an hour in a dentist chair than a chair at their local DMV?) this is some of the least politically controversial conservation around. Everyone I met had stories of better yields, better soil, less water use, better land. It's a great story, but one that can't be told through Muir-colored glasses. And that is tremendously challenging from a photographic point of view. It's hard to go wrong with blue glaciers, rutting elk, mountain streams, Muir's "eternal youth of Nature," but try your hand at making a convincing photo of a syphon pipe or a soil profile and you'll understand the challenge. Finding the innate photographic value in the subject at hand even when it's not obvious is what separates a professional photographer from someone who can take a good photo of an obviously beautiful subject. It's what makes assignments like this such valuable opportunities for growth.

Also, Austin is a great town in which to drink a beer. Thanks Chase.