utah

Photographer Interview: Quinn Hall

There’s something magical about Utah. I call it America’s Surprisingly Beautiful State, just because the two times I’ve been there, I didn’t know what to expect. Photographer Quinn Hall captures the American southwest perfectly.

Who are you and what do you do?

I’m Quinn Hall – but I go by “strayfoto” across most social media. I work in environmental consulting doing GIS (geographic information systems – mapping) of fossils in and around the western states. Photography, although it’s paid a few bills in the past, is mostly a hobby, albeit one I’m quite passionate about.

How did you get started in photography?

I always had a point and shoot growing up, but I bought a Pentax ZX-50(?) in about 1997. A few weeks later I bought a Pentax ME Super at a pawn shop and I was hooked. Over the years I’ve worked my way though the Pentaxes, Leicas, bigger Pentaxes, and Hasselblads. I had a wet darkroom in my basement for about six years, but I moved and had to let it go. I’ve been about 90% digital since 2009.

What do you like about your photography?  

I usually hate my own photography… Not really, but I can find things to complain about. I like the creative process most. It hardly matters what I’m shooting as long as I’m creating something. I like the post too – culling and editing, looking for something I may not have noticed in the field. Photography keeps me busy. I love a good project.

Your work really shows off the American southwest. Where do you get inspiration for your style/ideas?

I lead guided tours of Arches National Park during the summers and it’s interesting to see how people from all over the world photograph the park. Sometimes someone will look at a feature in a way I’ve never even thought of and I’ll use that and try to expand on it. Sometimes it’s the opposite – I’ll think “I’m going to go shoot over here just to avoid that crowd…” and it works because I end up seeing something most others don’t.

“For me, a camera is my way to…”

Stay busy. Create more, consume less.

What kinds of themes do you explore with your work?

I went through a Leica – lots of old cameras and Tri-X film. I spent a lot of time on “street” photography forums. In rural Utah there’s not a lot “street” style photography, but I think that time influenced my taste. I don’t mind people in my landscape/nature photos, and often find they add to the scene – in a national park a shot with people in it is more honest. I often go for form or composition over ultimate subject.

Any upcoming projects or shoots you’re working on?

I recently completed shooting a couple projects and I need to move those closer to a final product. I’ve been working on a project of shots I’ve taken while running and hope to push that a little further this year.

Follow more of Quinn’s work at @strayfoto, or on his Instagram account.

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Flying Solo

Arizona - First view of the canyon

People think it’s a little weird when I hit the road by myself.

“How can you do that?” they ask. “I could never do something like that,” they’ll tell me. Or their grim look of shock will give away their apprehension. “Weird-o,” they’re thinking, I’m sure.

The other one I hear a lot is, “I would love to do something like that.” And it’s hard to tell which category of people needs a solitary road trip: the scared, or the desperate.

When you’re scared and desperate, hitting the road can be the best medicine. Being stuck in the car for eight straight hours of high-powered maneuvering down back desert roads is therapeutic – but maybe therapists are supposed to say that.

No – I’ve found it’s awfully true. Sometimes alarmingly true. And it’s not easy, being stuck with yourself all that time. You get lonely.

The thing about cross-country road trips, however, is that you’re never truly alone. I met a nice guy from Seattle who was down taking pictures of the Grand Canyon and was headed to Zion after we had breakfast together at the Jacob Lake Inn. He wanted to hit the canyon by sunrise to take pictures, but he never made it. Instead, he had French Toast at 7 a.m. with me, just as I was getting ready to leave the place. He was a traveler, like me, so we shared stories of Sitgraves Pass and the wather in the Pacific Northwest.

We never traded names. I didn’t get the name of the nice couple from Winslow, Arizona either, but we talked for most of the evening after my first visit to the canyon. They were headed to Zion, too, and just drove in from Bryce Canyon. He was from Kentucky, an Air Force retiree, and she was a life-long Winslow resident. Her dad used to take her to First Mesa and pick rasberries in the canyons. Amazing, I thought, that such growth was possible in the Navajo desert.

Mrs. Winslow felt we were on the cusp of the Age of Aquarius. Didn’t I think everything was weird now? And didn’t I get the feeling that things were going to change?

“You keep doing what you’re doing, sweetie,” she told me outside our rooms at the Inn. “You’ll be ready when this awful world starts to get better. It’s due.”

There was the single dad in Springdale, Utah, raising two kids on his own. The girl was 2, the boy was 9 or 10, and the dad had salt and pepper hair. They had the boy’s friend along, too, and the four of them ate and made a bunch of ruckus in the pool room of the Bit & Spur while I watched Oregon dismantle Tennessee.

“You thought you were going to watch football in peace?” he said, grinning.

After his daughter grabbed the pool stick and started waving it around like one of the drunk locals, he had to beat it out of the bar. Life was probably going to be like that for him – for many years to come.

There was the couple from Grand Junction, Colorado, retired teachers marching all over the Southwest on a hiking tour. They were pros, too, with their walking sticks and binoculars. It took me a minute to remember where I recognized Grand Junction. Then it hit me: I slept there on my way home from the Route 66 trip, not realizing how beautiful the place was because I arrived in the middle of the night.

That started our conversation about travel, and I realized it was the one thing I had in common with all these people: we liked going places. Even though most of them were either Baby Boomers or retirement age, we could talk comfortably. It didn’t take me long to recognize that both foreigners and retirees were the ones that frequented this part of the country. There were a few young couples, yes, but they were rare compared to the man and wife in their mid-50s or 60s who said Zion or the canyon wasn’t their first stop.

The older couple from Houston shared similar destinations: Zion, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Monument Valley. Tourists didn’t stop at just one; they made a point of seeing them all.

So it was with me, all by myself, but again – not really. There were long stretches (in the car, in my room, hiking) when I had plenty of time to myself. The solitude was what I was out here for, but gosh, it’s not like I’m totally alone.

Really, it’s a sort of confidence booster. Fellow travelers seem proud that I’m out here, in the middle of nowhere, seeing the world while I’m “still able.” You can almost sense a whiff of envy, like they wish they could’ve made similar trips when they were younger. Old or young, it doesn’t matter – as long as you get out and see the world sometime, right?

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