Waves of Sand, White Sands National Park

Have you ever heard of Lavallette? It’s a small little beach town about one square mile in size and located on a small barrier island of the central/southern coast of New Jersey. My grandparents had summered there for years before they bought two bungalows on Vance Avenue in 1964. At first my siblings, parents and grandparents went “down the shore” for about two weeks around the Fourth of July holiday and another two weeks before the Labor Day weekend. Then, after a few years my grandmother decided she wanted to be there all summer long and I was lucky, I got to go along. That started just before I became a teenager and ended in my late teens.

My first job was at the Lavallette Theater. The building had no air conditioning, the movies and pay were terrible and I don’t think there was ever a full house. But at 16 or 17 years old, who needs money when you get to stay on the beach all day. I spent most of the days with friends, swimming, body surfing and checking out the girls, it was a pretty good life. More than 30 years later I did a project that focused on the very beach in Lavallette where I spent my summers. When taking a photographic eye to the location I noticed things that I had forgotten, or maybe never noticed before. It wasn’t just the new protective grasses and dunes, the painted street signs, or the upgraded boardwalk, it was the ocean itself. I was more aware of the the sounds of the waves and the way they surged on and retreated from the shore line. I watched the waves as they frequently pounded on the surfs edge and occasionally crept up on the beach like a soft breeze.

Often during rough seas large waves would regularly break a couple of hundred yards out from the beach and the churning white surf would kick up seaweed and sand from the bottom. If I close my eyes I can easily imagine the similarity of those large Atlantic waves to the dunes of White Sands National Park. The white of the swirling waves, the regularity of wave pattern, the textures and colors of the churn as the waves move to its final rumble with the beach make the White Sands dunes feel very familiar.

I miss Lavallette and the Atlantic Ocean, but to be able to regularly wander the spectacular White Sands with my camera is a chance few people get to experience.
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Limited addition prints and a box set can be found HERE

From Out of the Dunes

Since living here in New Mexico for the last couple of years, I have found the Yucca to be fascinating because of its human like form. This one seemed to be coming from out of the dunes as dawn broke at White Sands National Park one morning. It was barley visible when I first started to photograph that day, but as the light spread across the dunes and revealed its size, it seemed to get closer to me. I felt the need to introduce myself and take a portrait of him before I lost the beautiful soft light and the dark sky background.

Limited addition prints and a box set can be found HERE