My childhood memories of snow–in rural Alberta and Pennsylvania–are magical. My adult memories? Not so much. Living in a city has its perks, but trundling through a layer cake of ice, McDonald’s wrappers, and rat droppings isn’t one of them.
Michael G. Zimmerer’s White Horizon documents that elusive, perfectly white snow. Shot over the course of a trip across the American West, the large-format photographs show us the world in a thousand shades of white, with just a smattering of reds and browns that hint at the landscape hibernating below.
Zimmerer was born and raised in Florida, so he didn’t see much snow growing up. He explains White Horizon as a “simple, almost naive” celebration of the nature of place. “I found photography has helped me love landscapes and place more than anything,” he says over email. “My work ranges from telling the story of an elegant land turned dark and decrepit, to the discovery of self, and how easily so many of us lose in ourselves that which seems impossible to really lose.” For a hayseed-turned-city-dweller like myself, they’re simply beautiful images that recall a kind of snow rarely found in a metropolis.