Why I Return to the Same Subject Again and Again

There is a small hill crowned with pines that I have photographed for years. At first, it was just a striking shape against the sky—an obvious subject to capture. But the more I returned, the less it became about making a single image and the more it became about entering into a long conversation.

See a full gallery of the photos of this hilltop over seasons and years. 

Each visit revealed something different. Not just because the weather or the light had changed, but because I had changed. At times I saw strength in the way the trees stood against the horizon. At other times I noticed their vulnerability, the way they could be dwarfed by the sky above them. Over time, the hill stopped being a backdrop and became a presence, something I had to reckon with.

This is why I return. To me, photography is not about capturing the definitive shot and moving on. It is about learning to see more fully, and that requires patience, repetition, and trust. By standing in front of the same subject again and again, I discover not sameness, but depth. The hill is always there, waiting. The question is: who will I be each time I come back to it?

Looking back through the photographs, I see a record of years passing. The hill itself becomes a timekeeper, marking my returns like notches on a calendar. But the deeper truth is that the photographs are also a mirror. They reflect my shifting perspective, my different states of mind, the evolution of my craft. What began as a picture of a place has become a record of an unfolding relationship—between myself, my camera, and this patch of earth.