For two years Dayton has been planning this project and for the past nine days he has begun to reveal his vision. The platform has been lowered as he carves his way down the log. The bear has come out of redwood hibernation. Dayton after the first pass through the log is tired.
The chainsaw, an older Stihl model, is heavy and he feels the effort every night. During the carving
his mind races ahead to where the carving will go. And, there is an unexpected thought as he pauses and walks away from the platform to get a fresh perspective, to study the scale and plan for the next round of cuts.
He shared with me that he contemplates how many millions of years it took to produce the gasoline and oil he uses in his saw, the evolution of man and the technology necessary to place him in front of the massive redwood log at this moment in time to carve his bear, the epitome of wildness in an era when the Earth's viability is in jeopardy.
In that regard I think about my place in this little drama on the high desert of Central Oregon: The web of life, all the years of photojournalism that taught me to recognize a good story in my own backyard and the sequence of events, professional and personal that led me here as well.