When I heard that I was going to get the chance to document & spend time with Jamie Rouse a second time, I couldn't have been more thrilled. Jamie is a fly fishing legend who resides in Heber Springs, a couple stone throws away from the Little Red River. I piled into Fayettechill's "Adventure Suburu" with colleague and partner in crime, Devin O'Dea, & the consistently solid Connor Cockrell and we were off. We drove through a torrential downpour to get to the location, which, per usual, was perfect shooting conditions.
One of the things I love about shooting for Fayettechill is that I'm always getting to shoot things, specifically outdoor sports, that I actually know quite little about. This means that there is no formula. I haven't spent hours studying fly fishing magazines with "proper" compositions, I don't have a point of reference for yoga, mountain biking or rock climbing, which means I get to incorporate my own style into every shoot I go on. What a treat to be trusted in such uncertain waters.
Waking up at 5am is never something I get too excited about doing, but dawn on the Red River did not disappoint. The burnt magenta sun beams punching holes through the blanket of fog moved something deep within me. The God-part of what surrounded me reached out to the God-part within me and it made me feel alive. I've been listening to a lot of spoken word artist, Levi the Poet lately. I share his sentiment:
"I've seen the entire spectrum refracting off the ripples beneath my bare feet from the edge of this weathered dock, and thought God, there's got to be more than this.
I have no idea what to believe, but beauty pulls me beyond myself like I don't even have a choice, so I know I don't believe in nothing.
Where, my love, does the beauty inside of a tree reside, made up of atoms, identical and colorless, where the light of the sun merely vibrates in waves toward our eyes, striking tissues and moving along nerves like a telephone wire, to their endings, like telephones? I do not know. There is no actual color in the atoms of which the tree is composed, or in those vibrations. Shape, size, color, touch and the like are simply the names we call our sensations, and no amount of study can ever bring the notion of beauty to the tree...
When I don't know how, help me embrace the mystery."