The days were quick, sunrise to noon gone in a blink and then I was into the afternoon, the downhill slope of the day. I drove a lot, racing through the beauty of The Colorado Plateau. Sometimes I ran, the trails extending mile after mile. I would go until I couldn’t remember. Some days I made photographs. Everybody photographed Arizona. Photography was a way to keep from seeing the whole thing, from knowing that we were inconsequential and that our lives were fleeting. We exerted control by making photographs and capturing the land in our little boxes. We couldn’t fathom the Painted Desert but a photograph made it ours.