People of the Wasatch
A season of families on the mountain — what golden hour does to a face.
For all the miles I put on chasing empty landscapes, the work that means the most is usually the closest to home: families, on a mountain, in the last hour of good light.
There is nothing complicated about it. Find a slope facing the sun, give people enough room to forget the camera, and wait for the moment they look at each other instead of at me. The mountain does the rest.
