When I first came to the Sierra Club, one fringe benefit I hadn’t anticipated was the art. In the hallways, the offices, and the conference rooms hang spectacular photographs (and a few paintings) that not only inspire us daily but also remind us why we come to work. Many of the photographs are the work of past winners of the Ansel Adams Award for Conservation Photography, which the Club has presented annually since 1971. Some of the most spectacular are by Adams himself. We don’t make a big deal about them, but perhaps we should. Once during a meeting, a volunteer leader pulled Clearing Winter Storm, Yosemite National Park off the wall so he could tape pages of brainstorming notes from an easel pad to the wall. I suspect that kind of thing doesn’t happen at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Photography has always been important to the Sierra Club, beginning with our founder. From the beginning, John Muir understood that people would care more about protecting places they had seen. He believed that if everyone in America could experience the mountains and valleys of his beloved Sierra Nevada for themselves, then the conservation battle would be won. Clearly, though, that would be impractical. Fortunately, there was an alternative: Illustrations and photographs (along with Muir’s own impassioned prose) could bring the mountains to the people. Little-known fact: Muir himself carried a camera on some of his later travels, though the results were not impressive. As a photographer, he was apparently a very good writer.
Luckily, from its earliest days the Sierra Club did attract many talented photographers. At first, they simply documented Club outings—both the enthusiastic participants and the spectacular destinations. Often, the Club’s annual weeks-long summer outing would include an “official” photographer, perhaps someone who might not otherwise be able to afford the cost of the trip. In 1928, one such participant was a young man named Ansel Adams. The photographs he made in the Canadian Rockies that summer were finally collected in book form 84 years later. Although Adams had no way of knowing it at the time, his photos documented glaciers that have since retreated by as much as a mile because of climate change.
Although earlier photographers had made nature and landscape images that furthered the cause of conservation, Adams developed a technical mastery and artistic vision far beyond his predecessors. Over the decades, he also evolved into a dedicated conservationist who served on the Sierra Club’s board of directors for 37 years. Although Adams remained first and foremost an artist, he was more than willing to put his images to use in the cause of protection. This Is the American Earth, his collaboration with writer Nancy Newhall, launched the influential Exhibit Format Series of Sierra Club Books (the brainchild of the great David Brower). The series also featured such talented artists such as Philip Hyde and Eliot Porter. Their photos, and the accompanying text, powerfully advocated for threatened natural treasures from old-growth redwoods to desert canyons. Not every fight was won, but without the work of these committed photographers, so much more would have been lost.
Whether Adams, Hyde, and Porter were conservationists who turned to photography or photographers who turned to conservation is beside the point. What matters is that they brought their art and activism together to help save many of the spectacular places we still love to visit (and photograph) today. John Muir was right—firsthand knowledge of nature is a powerful motivation to protect it. Can someone make a truly great photograph of nature without such knowledge? Maybe. But I don’t think it’s possible to truly see and know the natural world and yet remain indifferent to its fate.
So get involved. The camera is only a tool. It’s the photographer’s eye that makes the image. This book, too, is filled with tools for using your photography to help protect our remaining wild places and wildlife. But it’s your passion that can make a difference. Use it!