When we identify as something, we begin to embody it, allowing it to shape our actions and attitudes. This concept, simple yet transformative, is evident in many aspects of life. If you want to stop smoking, for example, you identify as a non-smoker. This shift in mindset has the power to guide decisions and influence behavior. The same idea applies to being an artist.
For a long time, I resisted identifying as an artist. I had a narrow definition in my mind—artists were people who worked full-time on their art, who dedicated every moment of their professional lives to creativity. It felt like a title reserved for those who had made art their primary pursuit. But what I’ve come to realize is that being an artist is not necessarily about how you spend your working hours; it’s about how you see the world and share that vision with others.
Artists have a unique ability to help others see things that might otherwise be overlooked, often doing so in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. It’s about perspective, interpretation, and revealing the beauty or meaning in things that might otherwise remain unseen. My journey to Spring Bay at the Great Salt Lake was a reflection of this. I know that most people may never venture to that part of the lake, so I went—cameras in hand and in the air—so that others could experience its magnificence through my lens.
These photographs, collectively, are my attempt to reveal the lake's complexity—its vivid and unexpected colors, its vast open spaces, and its intricate textures. Great Salt Lake is unlike any other landscape, with its water often appearing in striking hues of pink and red. These colors are a result of the high salinity, which allows specific types of algae and halo bacteria to thrive, especially in areas where the water level is lower. The pigments from these microorganisms, combined with the mineral content of the lake, create a palette that feels almost otherworldly.
Seeing water in these shades is a reminder of how truly unique and dynamic this environment is. It's easy to assume that bodies of water should only be blue or gray, but here at the Great Salt Lake, the intense reds and soft pinks are a testament to the resilience and adaptation of life in harsh conditions. They transform the lake into something almost surreal, as if you’re looking at an abstract painting rather than a natural landscape.
The images show the Great Salt Lake as a dynamic, living entity, rich with hidden beauty. They capture times of day and perspectives that most people rarely experience—at dawn, or during twilight. The palette of deep reds, subtle purples, and whites contrasts dramatically against the soft blues of the sky, creating a surreal landscape that, despite its harshness, holds an unmistakable grace.
This sense of sharing, of showing others something beyond their everyday experience, is at the heart of what it means to be an artist for me. The lake, often seen as desolate, reveals itself as resilient and full of character when you look closer. Identifying as an artist is not about titles or the amount of time spent creating; it’s about intention and the willingness to share a different way of seeing.
From now on, I will identify as an artist. I think embracingthis identity will make me a better artist because it allows me to fully committo seeing and sharing the world in this unique way. It means recognizing thatwhat I do—what I see, what I create—is meaningful and worth sharing. By callingmyself an artist, I am giving myself permission to explore, to take risks, andto fully embrace this creative journey. For me, this shift in mindset hasopened a door—not just to more fully explore my own creativity but to inviteothers to share in the wonder of a place I deeply care about.