Mammoth Cave National Park: Reflections

Preface

This book began when I applied to become an artist-in-residence through the national park system. At the time, I had never heard of Mammoth Cave National Park and had only the vaguest idea of where Kentucky was on the map. I’ve come a long way since then.

Before I ever laid eyes on Mammoth Cave, I read everything I could find about the park and studied images of it. I proposed this book project before I had even stepped foot in the park, and once I got there, I was struck by the thought that if I wasn’t able to produce great photographs every day, a book might not be possible. I kept a journal throughout my stay, and this is what I wrote on September 11, 2003, the day I arrived: It is now apparent just how large a project I have started, by almost requiring myself to produce a book by the end of the seven weeks. I find the hill to producing good work only gets steeper. I will need to keep a very open mind and really concentrate on seeing shape, form, and light beyond the obvious. I’m scared, and yet excited . . . positive that I won’t have any trouble for the rest of the stay finding fresh subjects.

This project started out as a personal challenge to see beyond the obvious, beyond what I had discovered the day before. Now that it’s over, I’ve concluded that the most important part was the journey. Besides being a record of daily activities, the journal I kept offers proof that my time at the park changed me. Art can have the same effect. To a casual observer, a piece of art may be a canvas covered with paint hanging on a wall—made from materials worth only a couple of dollars. But given the means to put the work in context, to draw insight from its creator, a work of art can inspire. The value of art, like that of the park, is more than its simple existence. Its real value is its ability to influence those who see it, changing the way they perceive the world. Life is somewhat like the Mammoth Cave system: its length is uncertain, its path is winding, and anything is possible ahead. Cavers and artists alike relish that uncertainty, while striving always to move