JAMES SHIREY
We had been riding our bikes past this old farmhouse in the Margaret Creek valley. My wife and I had never seen it together,
just on individual trips, and we’d seen such different things that we never realized it was the same place. Our children went
there on school field trips, bringing home stories of wildflowers and the dam and the deer that ran across the bottom when the
school bus rattled across the bridge. The first time we all saw it together was when we were house-hunting. And we bought it.
The house, the valley bottom, and the land up to the top of the ridge, opening into a secluded wildlife area.
We spent our days in our garden across the road, swimming the lake in summers, skating on it in winters, hiking the hills and
finding hidden springs during the times in between. Every day we saw something we knew we’d probably never see again. A
beaver watching us with one lazy eye as he swam past the asparagus bed. A spider stretching herself out in the morning and
then going for breakfast. A cicada killer bringing her prey into a burrow under a cabbage leaf.
The boys are gone, grown into proud men on their own ways. It’s just the two of us, my wife and I. We stand by the waters that
caressed us, smell the same forest scents we all smelled as a young family. We hear the same cricket and bird songs. They
are different birds, different crickets, but the songs are the same. The only changes are in the creatures that sing them.
This magic is what I convey in my wildflower photography. I capture them where they live, and I do this with natural lighting and
without damage. Nothing is cut or plucked. And my work reveals the true nature of flowers. They are not nearly as smooth and
uniform as they appear. They have spines, crags and valleys, changes of texture and color. Our eyes are not good enough to
see this without help. Nor can our eyes see that every flower harbors a powerful spirit, one that is wild and free with its own
reasons for being here.
Other facts about me that are of less interest: I was born in Chicago and grew up around Gary, Indiana, where I worked in the
steel mills where I met my future wife. I have a Ph.D. in Mathematics from Purdue University, 1969, and I was a math professor
at Ohio University until my retirement at the end of the old millenium. My photography career began a few years later. I have
always spent time in the woods. A nature photographer’s greatest asset is an intimate spiritual connection with the land, a
connection fostered and maintained by love.
just on individual trips, and we’d seen such different things that we never realized it was the same place. Our children went
there on school field trips, bringing home stories of wildflowers and the dam and the deer that ran across the bottom when the
school bus rattled across the bridge. The first time we all saw it together was when we were house-hunting. And we bought it.
The house, the valley bottom, and the land up to the top of the ridge, opening into a secluded wildlife area.
We spent our days in our garden across the road, swimming the lake in summers, skating on it in winters, hiking the hills and
finding hidden springs during the times in between. Every day we saw something we knew we’d probably never see again. A
beaver watching us with one lazy eye as he swam past the asparagus bed. A spider stretching herself out in the morning and
then going for breakfast. A cicada killer bringing her prey into a burrow under a cabbage leaf.
The boys are gone, grown into proud men on their own ways. It’s just the two of us, my wife and I. We stand by the waters that
caressed us, smell the same forest scents we all smelled as a young family. We hear the same cricket and bird songs. They
are different birds, different crickets, but the songs are the same. The only changes are in the creatures that sing them.
This magic is what I convey in my wildflower photography. I capture them where they live, and I do this with natural lighting and
without damage. Nothing is cut or plucked. And my work reveals the true nature of flowers. They are not nearly as smooth and
uniform as they appear. They have spines, crags and valleys, changes of texture and color. Our eyes are not good enough to
see this without help. Nor can our eyes see that every flower harbors a powerful spirit, one that is wild and free with its own
reasons for being here.
Other facts about me that are of less interest: I was born in Chicago and grew up around Gary, Indiana, where I worked in the
steel mills where I met my future wife. I have a Ph.D. in Mathematics from Purdue University, 1969, and I was a math professor
at Ohio University until my retirement at the end of the old millenium. My photography career began a few years later. I have
always spent time in the woods. A nature photographer’s greatest asset is an intimate spiritual connection with the land, a
connection fostered and maintained by love.
Click on the Links below to see more of James' work