Growing up in suburban southern California, I longed for a natural landscape I didn’t know.  I was drawn

to what exists beyond the reach of stucco and barbed wire.  Rather than venture to the majestic

grandeur of celebrated landmarks that themselves are magnets to the masses, I began to explore

some of the less known wilderness areas on the fringes of urban sprawl.  I frequently return to the

same local hills dotted with twisted grey oaks and wind swept indigenous grasslands.  What used to be

vast expanses are now only patches.  What used to be everywhere is now mostly only here.

What I encounter is an environment at war with itself.  Native species are fighting for survival against

introduced species and foreign diseases.  Each little area, every tree’s own little microenvironment is a

battle for the collective soul of a place that even the eldest no longer remember.  The land longs to

return to the harmony of its birth in times unknown.

These quiet struggles parallel our inward conflict. Our Creator calls to us to remember what we were

meant to be. Becoming (returning to?) this is where the struggle begins, not where it ends.  Inwardly, in

the temples on a thousand anonymous hills, the soul yearns to be recaptured, to once again be Eden,

when the Divine walked with man in the cool of the afternoon.

My use of medium and large format cameras spanning two centuries also forces the viewer to see with

different eyes. Imperfect lenses articulate a humility that lends itself to this place. I often paint into my

images, further pushing the distinction between realities. Here is where I encounter the intimacy of the

landscape face to face.  Below the echoes of man made thunder, Eden whispers its private words.

Tony Caltabiano