This project examines the relationship between land and self. How do we shape the land? And, in turn, how does the land shape us? This is an important thread in my own life, and something that I was eager to explore with Henry.

The subjects of the film – Megan, Harlan, Lonnie – each have their own experience of Escalante. It is a place of quiet solace, a god-given land of abundance, and an old home under siege. These colliding narratives are what makes a landscape so dynamic; that it can hold authentic truths for many different people. Maybe that’s why a singular decree about the purpose of a place can be impossible to reconcile.

Escalante was the last stubborn corner of the contiguous states to be mapped. It is also one of the quietest regions in America, and one of the richest floristic zones in the Intercontinental West. While the three subjects guided us through the human narrative, the land itself was – of course – a story in its own right.

We traveled with the camera and the tripod in the backseat, ready to film when we came over the top of the hill or around a bend in the road. It was difficult to decide when to stop for a shot and when to keep driving. The shifting light transforms the land in striking ways. We could’ve filmed for months and never experienced the same place twice.

On an off day, we filmed the sun as it slipped below the horizon. The event lasted for an hour or so, and the conversation that Henry and I had in that period reframed my perspective on the project in ways that were small but significant. I’ve since made it a habit of shooting the clouds in the sky as the day winds down.

The project was created in collaboration with the Southern Utah Oral History Project, and historian Marsha Holland conducted the interviews. We stayed at Marsha’s home a few of the nights, and the interviews folded into our dinnertime conversations. Her passion and knowledge of the region was a pleasure to experience and a gift to the film.

Our interview setups were more or less conventional, with a wide and a tight. When we could, we would visually link the subjects to the outside world. Interviews sometimes feel like they exist independently from the rest of the film, and I think this sort of coverage helps to bring the audience back into the world of the story.

Henry was inspired by the stark and bold compositions that you find on the plateau and down in the canyons. I found midday to be an excellent time to film landscapes. The sun finds its way into the canyons and creates a neat interplay of light and shadow, and the light bouncing off of the red rock saturates the space in rich color.

My time in south Utah reaffirmed my belief in public land as a space for connection across politics, cultures, and species. It also taught me that ‘restoration’ is a fragile and relative term, and that ‘stewardship’ is an immensely complex virtue to uphold.

Thanks to Harlan, Megan, Lonnie, and Marsha for sharing something that is close to their heart, and thanks to Henry for introducing me to a part of the world that I have returned to time and time again.