CHURCH IN THE WILD: JK Winders
Ben Ashby
I suppose a proper introduction is where I should start things off. My name is Joshua Winders, but most people call me J.K. I am an artist of many trades, full-time explorer, and red head with a soul. I’ve been a collector of different hobbies and interests for quite some time now, and I’ve always sought ways to combine then in unique and special ways. For well over a decade, photography has been my primary outlet and where I invest most of my creativity. However, after graduating high school and being freed from the confines of English and Creative Writing prompts and assignments, I began writing about things I actually enjoyed writing about and subsequently develop a deeper admiration for the written word.
My latest book, Off The Beaten Path, regales some of my most treasured adventures across the dusty recesses of the high deserts, through the lush forests of the Pacific Northwest, and among the wondrous Canadian Rockies. The book also delves into the ideas of what it means to explore and discover the enlightening parts of the world and in turn within oneself. While I am very proud of all of the experiences documented in this book, I’m extremely excited to share with you a little bit from my own favorite chapter that recounts some of my first experiences among thew Grand Tetons in Western Wyoming.
THIS ARTICLE ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN FOLK’S FALL ISSUE | ORDER HERE
THERE ARE SOME PLACES THAT ARE ALMOST TOO MAGNIFICENT, TOO BEAUTIFUL, AND TOO WONDROUS TO EXIST IN THE REAL WORLD. They are places where earth ceases to exist and heaven shines through the natural veil. These places drill into the deepest reserves of awe and wonder stored up in your soul, and creates a path for unadulterated joy and splendor to burst forth from. They are places that make you feel that just by being present, existing, and resting in their goodness makes you feel a part of the symbiotic flow of their grand scheme. The Grand Teton mountains nestled between the valley of Jackson Hole and the western border of Wyoming is one of these places.
When I was growing up, my parents had one of the walls decorated with black and white photo prints of the American west by Ansel Adams. One such photograph featured a shimmering river winding through a great open valley and a domineering, craggy, snow-capped mountain range in the distance with foreboding clouds overhead. It was a scene that, at times, made me feel uneasy because of its gargantuan and intimidating ambiance. Of course, this was at an age before I discovered how wonderful it was to feel minuscule and manhandled by the forces of nature. For a long time, I thought that this photograph was actually a painting. There was no way that this place could actually exist. It was too majestic, too striking, too grand. But it did exist, and one day I would come to call this one of my favorite places on earth.
The first time I set eyes on the Grand Tetons, I was cresting over the mountain pass to the east of the valley. Looking west beyond a road that drew my gaze straight to my destination, I saw the jagged peaks framed in front of an imperious blanket of storm clouds. I had never seen something that was equally terrifying as it was beautiful. From miles away, I could feel their gaze and hear their siren call beckoning into their dominion. That feeling lingered over me until I stood in their shadows that sprawled across the wide-open valley floor. The eleven, twelve, and thirteen-thousand-foot summits that formed the massif of the range were unobstructed by any foothills or gradients. They were standing naked and bare before me displaying full, geological prominence. All I could do was stand in humble reverence at their undressed, flawless, irreproachable glory.
Wonders such as the Grand Tetons expressively make one so aware that God is magnificent and fully unlimited in divine, creative power. When you witness great art, you feel the heart and intention of the artist. I truly believe God wanted us to experience Heavenly sensations on earth, so He gave us mountains. He gave us these incredible, exalted, awe-inspiring mountains. Countless photographers, painters, and poets have summoned at the base of the mountains to seek out their counsel of inspiration. They have spoken many truths to innumerable individuals and have granted them the vision to carry out amazing feats, create beautiful art themselves, and seek peace in a chaotic world. They are the greatest advocates for sincerity and virtue that I have come to know in this world.
The Grand Tetons are a church, the same way an art gallery or an orchestra hall can be a church. A church is not just a set of four walls, a few rows of seats, and a man behind a standing podium telling you how to live your life. Church is a place where your soul is fed and nourished. It’s a place where the body and mind can slow down and receive the goodness and blessing of a loving father. Works of art hanging in a gallery can speak that into people, music played by an orchestral ensemble can speak that into people. I like to think that there are places on earth, natural places, that God designed and created for that purpose; To speak beauty, righteousness, and truth into people’s souls and spirits. The first time I laid eyes on the majestic peaks, I cried. Not because it made me sad or emotional, but because it was true. Truth is beautiful, and beautiful things often-times make me cry.
My mom and dad raised me with the knowledge that attending church doesn’t make you a beloved son of God. But instead knowing God and taking the time form my own, unique relationship with Him is what counts. When you know God, really know Him, you see his signature on more moments you encounter and find that He wants to meet way more often than every Sunday. Mom and dad never wanted me to limit what God could, how He could speak, and where He could be. I’ve found that the more I’m able to see God’s fingerprints on the earth, the more it helps me see the better in the entire world than the worse. It helps me see beauty when it is not obvious. It helps me know when Heaven has collided with earth.
Heaven seems to feel a little bit closer among the Grand Tetons. I know I’m not the only one to feel this way. Many paintings, photographs, poems, and songs that have been inspired by this place echo that tactile sense. Heaven is found predominately in regions of peace. I have had the joy and the pleasure of being able to experience peace in many different places. But it had never felt more tangible than it did while I was sitting on the dew-soaked ground wrapped in a warm wool blanket sipping cowboy coffee from a tin mug as the rising sun set the mountains ablaze. Time had never felt so non-existent and the rest of the world had never felt so distant. Some people may say that peace is a choice you make, but that doesn’t feel like the case in Grand Teton. Instead, it is a mandatory part of the culture that you can’t help but feel obliged to adhere.
Grand Teton is a place where harmony is found for those who yearn for it. It’s a place whose beauty rivals that of even St. Peter’s Basilica, the Notre Dame de Paris, or any of the most opulent, gilded cathedrals in the world. It is a sanctuary of serenity, of natural, divine artistry, and abundant grace. I can remember the feeling of worry and anxiety melting away from my being as I basked in the shade of these monumental peaks. It’s a place where I experience goodness and wonderment. The valley floors, tranquil meadows, alpine lakes, braided rivers, and the celestial mounts work in tandem to create deep-rooted connections with whoever cuts their path across them. Many have visited and many have left, but this place stays firmly imprinted on the heart like red on a rose. This is my church, and it’s a little wild like me.
When you stand on the edge of the mesa overlooking Snake River and the great peaks looming in the distance, an overwhelming experience is created. Some times you can go a find perfect solitude, and sometimes you can be standing shoulder to shoulder with dozens of tourists and other photographers. It’s a special view and one that many people have come to recognize. Thousands, if not millions of photographers, painters, and sketch artists have stood at this spot and captured the view before them.
Who knows whether or not he was the first to capture a photograph at that spot, but he certainly set the standard for all who would follow. I wonder what that moment was like when Ansel stood at that very spot on a chilly evening in 1942 with a Hasselblad, a Karona view, or some similar tool in his possession. There was no platform, no parking lot, no information plaque, no point of reference. Just the untamed, natural wonder set in front of him.
I wonder how long it took him to compose his shot, adjust his settings, and wait for the conditions within the frame to be just right before he clicked the shutter. I wonder if he was aware of the trail he was blazing at that moment, if he knew how many walls his iconic, monochromatic prints would hang from, or if he thought about the countless photographers that would follow in his footsteps and attempt to recreate his image.
Of course, there’s also a part of me that imagines exactly the opposite. There is a definite possibility that it was just an ordinary moment in the mountains for him. The only thing he was ever known to focus on was the visualization of the final print before an exposure was ever made. One thing is certain about Ansel Adams; he was a master of timing and discovery. I like to assume that in some way he was in tune with divine guidance. I like thinking that when God whispered a location in his ear, he was there at the perfect moment. Mr. Adams operated in an age when people created for longevity rather than a brief moment visual sensation. He captured moments so that could truly last forever.
People have asked me regarding some of my most prized photographs, “Did you know how special this moment was?” And the answer is almost always, “No, not really.” It was just a moment where I was creating and having fun. If it was special, it was so only in an ordinary sense. It’s important to embrace the fact that behind every photograph is just a moment that is yours. Experience it, enjoy it, own it, let it be just a moment.
I thought I knew what mountains were. I thought I had seen some of the most prominent pinnacles that arose from the earth. The Grand Tetons are more than just mountains. They are methodically and wonderfully crafted effigies of the consummate partnership between nature and the divine. There was nothing that could’ve prepared for what they would be like in person; no photograph, no description, nothing that could have provided any shred of justice to their grandeur. There are some places where it is abundantly evident that God was having a good day when He crafted them into existence. The Grand Tetons are one of such places. It’s a place where every refined earthly goodness of the Heavenly Father has been poured out and displayed in a glorious exhibition.
The first time I saw the jagged peaks of the Grand Teton mountain range, they terrified me. They were so prominent, so titanic in their dominance and stature over me standing defenseless in the valley below. Wonder can be terrifying. Feeling overpowered in any way can be terrifying. But it still elevates you past your understanding and perception to a place where you can soar. Even before setting my gaze upon them, I was still terrified of them. I’ve always maintained a little bit of fear of land that I haven’t navigated. It’s mostly just the fear of the unknown and of what might exist or occur. I had built up an idea of what those incredible mountains would be like in person. They were images of incomprehensible, ominous, austere, powerful giants branded on my mind. Those images were terrifying themselves, but I was also afraid of the reality that framed those mentally fabricated pictures. I understand how irrational that may sound. But every new road is explored with a small twinge of fear.
People are most fearful from afar. They are afraid of the foreign lands that they’ve never been to but have heard of being full of dangerous environments and evil people. They’re afraid of the treacherous mountain pass that may or may not exist between where they are and where they’re going. They’re afraid of the possibility of getting hurt more so than the pain that comes from it. Not being able to see or fully understand something is what adds layers of dread and worry. We fear God because He’s bigger than us, bigger than our capacity of understanding. We fear the wilderness because we don’t know how far it stretches beyond the horizon before yielding.
The first edition of Off The Beaten Path is currently available on Amazon, with the second edition Hardcover coming November of this year. For more visit jkwinders.com and @jkwinders.
Enjoy the journey!