The deeper I got into photography, the more I fell for winter itself, the hiking, the excursions, the particular quiet of a cold morning in the woods. And somewhere inside that falling in love, I noticed I was driving further every year to find snow. Some seasons brought almost no real cold, only rain and wind and ice standing in for it. Other years still delivered plenty, but the pattern behind it, the reliable predictability an Appalachian winter is supposed to have, was gone. Less snow, and further to find what was left of it.
That's what sent me to Iceland first, and then to Lofoten this past winter. I wanted the tranquil landscapes, the snow and ice and cold I couldn't count on at home anymore. What I found up there, underneath all that beauty, was the same story.
Winter wasn't only changing in my backyard. Vanishing Winters grew out of that and has become an ongoing landscape documentary project highlighting both the beauty and fragility of my favorite season.
Three places, one thread.
dawn at Carver's Gap
Field Notes
Here's the fact that's been sitting underneath this whole project: the Southern Appalachians, the Scottish Highlands, and the mountains of Norway all sat on one single continent, long before the Atlantic Ocean existed. Forged when several ancient landmasses collided, creating one long, continuous mountain range across a shared continent. Later, the continent itself broke apart as the Atlantic opened, and the range broke with it, scattering what we now call the Appalachians, the Scottish Highlands, the Scandinavian mountains, and the mountains of East Greenland.
Iceland has a different, stranger story. It wasn't part of that original range at all. It's much younger, still being built today, sitting right on the seam where the Atlantic continues to pull apart, the same rift that tore the old mountains into pieces.
I only learned all of this recently, and it gave the whole collection a thread of continuity I didn't have words for before. It also explained something about why these places, so far from home, have always felt like home. I've been to Norway twice in one year. I cried the first time I left Iceland. Turns out there's a reason they feel tied together in some deep, foundational way.
Same continent. Same rift. Different chapters of one story.
Breidamerkursandur, aka Diamond Beach, Iceland
What's Inspiring Me
Sean Tucker's The Meaning in the Making is one of the best books on creativity, and the why behind making anything, that I've read. One line has stayed with me: "Our only business is our own integrity." It was one of the first books to really push me to ask why I'm doing this work at all, what impact I can have, what story I'm in a position to help tell. Reading it is part of what helped crystallize Vanishing Winters as more than an ode to winter. It's a case for paying attention to what's disappearing.
What's Next
An exhibition of this collection is coming in December; I'll be sharing more on that soon.
In the meantime, I'm still combing through thousands (literally) of images from my summer in western Norway. They'll pop up, along with more details about the exhibit, on Instagram.
Photographer and marketer Tanya Triber writes from the trail to the train to her desk overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains: stories from the field, honest notes on the craft of making (and marketing) beautiful images, and the tools, places, and ideas worth your time. One thoughtful email a month, from Appalachia to the Arctic.
