Background
Like many, I used to see wildfires only as something destructive—charred trees, barren land, and a stark reminder of loss. The aftermath felt ugly, a scar on the landscape, and I struggled to find beauty in it.
Beauty in the Burn
A Shift in Perspective
But perspectives can change, given the right light. The Alder Creek Fire of 2021 reshaped mine. In early June 2022, I planned to visit a lake within the burn zone. It was my first time witnessing a fire’s immediate aftermath. It was a rainy day, so the view was seen through a minimalist lens of a foggy, black, white, and red landscape. The rain and mist softened my perspective, limiting my focus to observing closer details. At first, the destruction was striking, but as I looked closer, I noticed the details were unusually beautiful—silver-gold branches glinted in the soft diffused light, charred trees displayed speckled patterns, black ash and mica shimmered on the forest floor, and the faint beginnings of new vegetation along the waterways. My eyes were opened to how unconventionally beautiful it was.
Story of Resilience
I returned about a month later, this time for the much-anticipated morel foraging. The landscape was as striking as the first visit, and I realized I needed to share this view with others. This realization became the foundation of Beauty in the Burn: there is profound beauty in the cycles of transformation. Though I had once felt anger and sorrow toward wildfire, I started to understand it as part of a larger process of renewal. Through Beauty in the Burn, I hope to share this perspective and convey the beauty and resilience of this land. Although fire begins with destruction, it is part of a cycle that ultimately strengthens the landscape and allows it to emerge more vibrant than before.
Spring 2022
The first visit was spent observing the contrast in color and light. The burnt bark pattern in the trees reminded me of freckles. Some branches had a gold metallic appearance, reflecting the soft, diffused light.
Winter 2023
The contrast we saw in spring inspired a revisit in winter when the landscape is mostly black and white due to winter conditions. The variety of colors between light dispersion, bright yellow light hitting the burn areas, and blue shadowy light cast a surreal experience.
Spring 2023, Early May
This second spring, more evidence of new growth is seen compared to the first. The combination of seeing the entwined charred roots with new growth sprouting around them tells its own tale of resilience. I was still captivated by the burnt texture and speckled patterns.
Spring 2023, Late May
Later that spring, I returned to find an abundance of arnica and lupine starting to return. The arnica blossomed first and covered the floor in bright yellow. Ash was still on the arnica flowers left from bursting through the charred remains.
Summer 2024
The fireweed was very prominent on this visit. The pink, green, and black landscape was a pleasing palette.
An Ongoing Personal Study
This series will continue as time goes on, documenting the forest’s recovery.