Colorado Central Magazine - The digital magazine for those who love Central Colorado! - Photographer J.D. Marston: Capturing the moment

Article by Marcia Darnell

Local artists – September 2001 – Colorado Central Magazine

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC ART WORKS of J.D. Marston have become iconic in this part of the West. The lushness of the Yampa Valley, the sensuality of water rushing over a river stone, and the stark beauty of Wheeler Geologic Area, all invite gazers to step into the picture, to savor the sight and feel of the images.

[J.D. Marston]

The connection between Marston and his work is almost mystical, as is his method of photography.

“When I make a photograph,” he says, “I go to a good location. The camera stays in the car. I stay there, close my eyes, and stay quiet. I will feel something coming toward me, and I will turn toward that feeling and open my eyes and a piece of the scenery will step forward.”

The teamwork between scenery, camera, and artist has performed well for the last 15 years. Marston has earned a solid reputation as a nature photographer, garnering several awards, including the 1992 Ansel Adams Award from the Sierra Club.

Conservation is a theme that permeates Marston’s work as well as his philosophy. Living in the San Luis Valley is part of his belief in being close to nature. He’s been in Crestone for 14 years.

“One thing I’m really happy about is it seems we will never have a ski area developed here,” he says.

Marston says that Crestone is a great place for him to become inspired.

“Because of the nature of the geography around this community,” he says, “it invites certain kinds of people — artists, people who enjoy being outdoors, and are willing to work for that. Because there’s no easy access up into these mountains — you can’t drive into them. You have to walk.

That also is part of the selection process, I think, of the kind of people who come here, that occurs in nature, because of what geography dictates.

“And there’s the community, which I think by and large is very concerned about keeping this a very nice place to live.

“Many people have moved here from cities and other backgrounds, but they all seem to value the natural setting and keeping it quieter, rather than louder.”

Marston acknowledges at least one problem in paradise, though.

“I don’t do that much photography here anymore. There’s been a lot of building. I know that’s inevitable, but still, being able to look outside your bedroom window at a fourteener, is inspiring.”

His sense of camaraderie extends to residents throughout the San Luis Valley.

“Just good people,” he says of inhabitants of The Big Empty. “That’s also inspirational. I’ve done some commercial photographic work around the Valley and I’ve really enjoyed meeting the people that I’ve had to work with. They’re real, they’re genuine. If they’re pissed off, you know it. They’re just direct, straight ahead, meat and potatoes. I really enjoy that.

“I have a problem with obtuseness,” he adds.

MARSTON ALSO APPRECIATES the San Luis Valley’s other residents. “I really enjoy that you can still see wildlife here,” he says. There’s nothing that gives me a greater thrill than being out in a lesser developed part of the Baca and running into a herd of elk. Wow. Or in some of the big cottonwood groves — being able to walk through them and have a big owl with an eight-foot wingspan take off right in front of you. It’s really wonderful.

“For me it brings back a theme that I used to talk about years ago and still feel, and that’s this: It’s a proven fact of psychology that when human beings are put into isolation, they become emotionally out of balance. They become ill. It’s my concern that human beings have become so overly successful at building homes and shelters that protect themselves from the environment, and within that solid structure they’ve created infrastructure that holds their attention so completely — such as people involved in the stock market, that’s all they think about, there is no other reality.

“What’s happened is that we’ve insulated ourselves within our own creation and we’ve fallen out of relationship with this,” he sweeps his hands, indicating the outdoors.

“It’s my true feeling that humankind in general, that’s all of us, are out of balance, because we’re living in isolation with our own species. We’re not interacting with the larger community of life, and because of the way we shelter ourselves, and a third layer of insulation is just the mind. We’re so creative in our minds, but usually it has very little to do with what’s around us. It’s just our own world.”

Marston tries to take people out of their own heads with his art.

“I am and have been trying to say, stop,” he says. “Take a look here. We need to make decisions about life on this place. How can we make those decisions if we don’t have relationships with everything here. It’s not ownership, it’s stewardship. No more seminars, no more philosophies or books. It’s a call to action.”

John Derrick Marston’s philosophy has evolved throughout a life that led him from an upbringing in Connecticut to college in Boston (Emerson, 1970). He has lived alone in the wilderness in the Canadian Rockies, and spent seven years as a monk in the Himalayan foothills.

His work as a photographer began in 1986, as he was standing in front of a temple in India. He knew he had to return to the States and was wondering how to support himself there. Someone handed him a camera and he focused his shot on a single rose.

“Just as the rose came into focus, Bingo!” he says, “I thought, ‘I’ll make beautiful photographs, make greeting cards out of them, with beautiful thoughts inside, and sell them.'”

TODAY HIS IMAGES do appear on cards and calendars, but the words are not his, just the photos. Commercial licensing is one component of his business, which is based in a very high-tech office in his home. Computers, printers and other electronic gizmos provide stark contrast to the vivid photographs of trees, rivers, and mountains on the office walls.

Marston also sells photographs as fine art and does commissioned works (like the four-foot-by-eight-foot photo of a waterfall he did for a hospital.)

The photographs in his gallery are devoid of human images, with one exception, a picture of Marston with his daughter, Ama, who lives in California and works for Greenpeace.

“She’s a very good photographer herself,” Marston says.

The rest of his work focuses on scenery, on the geographic and botanic images he sees moving toward him when he steps outside his home. Those trips, physical and mental, he believes are the key to his success.

“I tend to be available outdoors for far-out moments, moments of magic and mystery and wonder, and you can’t experience that unless you’re there.”

To reach J.D. Marston regarding his work, e-mail jd@jdmarston.com, or write P.O. Box 294, Crestone, CO 81131, or call 719-256-4162. His website is at www.jdmarston.com.

Marcia Darnell lives, writes, and gets paid (not nearly enough) to shoot pictures in Alamosa.