It is hard to find a subject more challenging to photograph than ancient trees. How do I express their power and beauty to those who have never seen them? How do I convey this power and beauty to those who have?I want to speak the language of the trees. I want to photograph the spirit that dwells within them. I want to record the passion that I see come alive before me and keep a clear picture so that even if a tree is destroyed by tempest wind, disease, greed or lack of concern, I will have a record of beauty and passion for those who were not able to make the journey.

For those who have felt a heightened sense of spirit as they wandered through groves of giant sequoias in the cool morning mist, or walked among the Joshua trees in the hot desert sun, who thought they found God in the heart of an ancient yew - this is not hard to understand. You cannot help but be overpowered by the sheer simplicity, standing before the stillness of the trees, you stand still, equally bare. Trees intricate and elegant in their simplicity of form; for beauty is not found in the excessive, but in what is venerable, old and wise.

As our earth becomes increasingly crowded these symbolic trees will take on a greater significance reminding us through their grandeur and age as they stand as the earth’s largest, living monuments how essential they are to our psychology and how precious they are to the soul of the world. Some of the oldest trees have been around for thousands of years and could possibly live a thousand more. But they will not remain ecologically intact without our attention and our willingness to protect what is wild.

I photograph these trees because I know written words will not be enough. I photograph these trees because they may not be here tomorrow. I photograph out of love, and take  a risk like love, to expose the source, to be exposed, and to show how vulnerable, like the trees, we all are.