What makes a landscape intimate? Does the viewer feel deeply close to the tiny details of a small patch of ground? Does the image invoke a sense of enclosure, bringing the viewer into a miniature world of usually unseen subjects? Is it an image of a place that is present only to the few who pay attention or take the time to seek it out from the jumble of reality?
Part of it for me is a scene that invokes a quiet emphasis, that somehow forces you to stop, look, embrace. And in return offers a new sense of place at that moment. With that in mind an intimate landscape can be as small as a thistle seed or as large as a mountain. It’s all in the composition used to portray that moment.
This scene caught my attention because the edge of the wheat field showed the perfectly formed seeds marching up their individual stalks, and behind them was a repeated sea of more and more of the same, all the way to the sky. The individual stalks in front, representing acres and acres of growth, stood out from the crowd, demanding my attention at that moment. Down at their level it felt like a huge population pressing forward to see me and to be seen. An intimacy that could only be realized down at their level, not while towering above them.