Introduction

Photography often begins with a subject: a tree, an old barn, a mountain ridge catching the first light of morning. For many years, that was how I approached photography. I searched for interesting subjects and beautiful light, hoping the combination would produce meaningful photographs.

Over time, however, something began to change. My attention slowly shifted away from asking, “What am I photographing?” Instead, I found myself asking a different question:

“What relationships am I witnessing?”

That single question has transformed not only the photographs I make but also the way I move through the world.

One idea that helped open this door for me is the Lakota expression Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ, often translated as “All My Relations.” I offer it here with gratitude and humility, recognizing it as part of a living Lakota tradition rather than a concept that belongs to me. My purpose is not to explain that tradition, but to reflect on how encountering it has influenced my own practice of observation and my journey as a photographic artist.

Beyond the Subject

Photography naturally encourages us to isolate. We choose a focal length, frame a composition, and crop away everything that falls outside the edges of the image. These choices are essential to the craft because they help us communicate clearly.

Yet while the camera isolates, life does not.

The weathered fence exists because of decades of wind, rain, and changing seasons. The lone oak stands because generations of roots have reached through unseen soil. Morning fog depends upon temperature, moisture, terrain, and light arriving together for only a brief moment.

Nothing simply exists by itself.

Everything belongs to a larger conversation.

The more I observe, the more difficult it becomes to see anything as truly isolated. Every landscape is shaped by countless relationships unfolding over time, and every photograph captures only a small glimpse of that larger story.

Creative Vision Begins with Relationship

Creative vision is often described as originality. While originality has its place, I have come to believe that creative vision is something quieter. Perhaps it is the ability to notice relationships that have always existed but are easily overlooked.

• The relationship between light and texture.
• Between age and beauty.
• Between decay and renewal.
• Between silence and presence.

Photography becomes less about collecting scenes and more about recognizing conversations already taking place within the landscape. The camera does not create those conversations; it simply records what my eyes have learned to notice.

Practicing Connection

This understanding has changed the pace of my photography. I spend more time walking, more time waiting, and more time simply observing before I lift the camera. Sometimes the photograph never happens, yet the observation remains valuable.

Not every meaningful experience needs to become an image.

Sometimes learning to see is enough.

Ironically, those quieter moments often lead to stronger photographs because they grow from understanding rather than urgency. The image becomes the result of attention instead of the reason for it.

A Practice, Not a Destination

I do not claim to fully understand Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ. That understanding belongs within the Lakota community and its traditions. What I can honestly say is that encountering the phrase encouraged me to ask better questions. It invited me to notice relationships instead of isolated objects and reminded me that photography is not only about composition.

It is also about attention.

The more deeply I observe, the more I recognize that every landscape belongs to something larger than itself. Perhaps that is one of photography’s quiet gifts; not simply showing us beautiful places, but teaching us to see that nothing stands entirely alone.

Featured Photograph