On April 11, the Black and White exhibition will open at 3 Square Gallery in Fort Collins, Colorado.
The four images below have been selected for the show.
Art in B & W 25
6th Annual Juried Exhibition
The Art in B & W 25, 6th Annual Juried Exhibition will once again grace the 3 Square Art Gallery this April 2025. This captivating exhibit highlights the enduring aesthetic of black and white art and photography, transcending the confines of time to create an experience that resonates across generations. This exhibition challenges artists to articulate their narrative in works devoid of color and is open to all artistic mediums and photography, subject matter, and styles from abstraction to realism.
The deliberate absence of color serves as a canvas, eliminating distractions and allowing viewers to delve into the very essence of the artwork. Here, the focus shifts to the conceptual, the structural, and the compositional elements, fostering a heightened awareness of shapes, textures, and contrasts. Working in black and white is a deliberate act that goes beyond technique—it is a conscious choice that lays bare the emotive power of storytelling and symbolism. Stripping away color invokes a more profound response from the viewer, creating a lasting impact that transcends the fleeting trends of the art world.
Join us on a journey through the dance of shadows and light in the Art in B & W 24 Exhibition this Spring, which celebrates the profound and the subtle. As we transcend the ephemeral nature of color, we emphasize fundamental artistic elements, evoke timeless aesthetics, and convey powerful stories and emotions.
TheSan Luis Valley and Mount Blanca are more than just landscapes to me—they are threads woven into my ancestral story, places where history, memory, and personal vision converge. With a family lineage that stretches back centuries, rooted in both Spanish settler and Indigenous ancestry, I feel a profound connection to this land. Every time I photograph its vast plains, shifting light, and the imposing presence of Mount Blanca, I am not just capturing a scene; I am engaging in a dialogue with the past, present, and unseen. It is to this area I go to restore myself.
Sacred Heart Church
Infrared photography allows me to see beyond what is immediately visible, revealing a hidden world—much like the way history lingers in these lands, waiting to be rediscovered. The way the valley glows in infrared, the way the shadows stretch and recede across the landscape, and the ethereal contrast between sky and earth all speak to something deeper than aesthetics. This place is sacred, shaped by generations of people who lived, struggled, and thrived here. My art becomes a way to honor that history, to capture the essence of a place that holds centuries of stories, both known and forgotten.
Sangre de Cristo
Mount Blanca, towering and timeless, serves as both a landmark and a metaphor in my work. Its presence is constant, yet it changes—veiled in clouds, illuminated by the setting sun, standing silent beneath the stars. It reminds me of the enduring strength of my ancestors and the resilience woven into my own journey. In many ways, my photography here is an act of reclamation and rediscovery, a way to reconnect with the land that has always been a part of me. The ethereal glow of infrared allows me to depict this landscape not as a mere geographical space, but as a dreamscape of memory, spirit, and transformation—a reflection of my own artistic and personal evolution.
I was recently interviewed for an article on VERO, the photographic social media app, where I had the chance to share my journey through infrared photography. The conversation explored my artistic evolution—from discovering the magic of HIE film in my early days to creating ethereal black-and-white images that celebrate the American West and my deep connection to the land through my heritage. We touched on the challenges and rewards of working within this unique medium, how it has become a profound form of self-expression, and how it continues to shape my creative voice. Reflecting on my process and connecting with a wider community of passionate photographers was an inspiring experience.
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of being invited back to Kat Shanahan‘s infrared podcast. This time, I was joined by the talented black-and-white infrared photographer, Nath Kaplan. We had a great time sharing our passion for black-and-white photography, covering a wide range of topics—from the types of IR filters we use, to long exposures, Lensbaby lenses, and so much more.
“What a season it has been! Today we’re wrapping up with @starlitwaltz and @nath_kaplan_photography talking about black and and white infrared photos. Tune in to learn about capturing stunning B&W infrared landscapes, processing techniques, and the unique challenges and rewards of this artistic approach.”
All artists experience cycles of creativity, with highs and lows shaping their journey. After a hiking injury last November, I found myself unable to lift a camera or carry a backpack for six months. As time passed, I gradually recovered from the pain in my ankle and shoulder, allowing me to return to photography. Yet, despite several local outings, I felt uninspired, and my images reflected that lack of enthusiasm. My good friend, Laurie Klein, suggested the injury might have been a message to slow down, especially after such a whirlwind year of travel and creative success.
Even before my injury, I had begun to feel frustrated with my work. I came across an article by a well-known photographer that posed an interesting question: how many of us flock to iconic locations, line up our cameras/tripods, and capture the same landscapes, saturating social media with repetitive imagery? Is that truly art? And more importantly, is that type of photography aligned with my personal vision? It’s a question I’ve reflected on deeply this past year.
“When you believe the work before you is the single piece that will forever define you, it’s difficult to let go. The urge for perfection is overwhelming. It’s too much. We are frozen, and sometimes ends up convincing ourselves that discarding the entire work is the only way to move forward.”
― Rick Rubin
This recovery period gave me a lot to reflect on, both physically and creatively. The notion of stepping back to re-evaluate your artistic path can be as important as the technical aspects of photography itself. Laurie’s suggestion to slow down, combined with my reflections on whether capturing well-known scenes aligns with my personal vision, could open new creative doors for my work. This has caused me to consider exploring more intimate or less traditional landscapes, or perhaps shifting my focus to express a deeper, more personal narrative through my infrared work? It may offer a fresh perspective and reignite that spark.
“There’s another way to think about creative blocks: not as hindrances to creativity but as harbingers of creative renewals, as necessary breaks for the mind to replenish its creative resources, to clean house, to organize and assimilate new ideas and information.”
After a period of intense self-reflection and creative frustration, I decided to shake things up by purchasing the Lensbaby Composer Pro II with the Sweet 35 optic. With renewed determination, I headed to the Benson Sculpture Garden in Loveland, Colorado. Over the course of several days, capturing both morning and late-afternoon light, I discovered something entirely new—unlike anything I’d ever created with a camera.
The fine-tuned focus and ethereal blur produced images that felt refreshingly different from those captured with traditional lenses. The Composer Pro II with Sweet 35 introduces unpredictable depth and movement at 35mm, allowing me to zero in on the most meaningful details. Its signature “sweet spot” creates a dynamic focal point, perfect for highlighting a face or isolating a key element in a landscape or environmental portrait.
His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.
Ernest Hemingway
Here is the result of my experiment—a breakthrough in overcoming my creative block. While these images were done for fun and may not represent the exact direction I’m heading, it marks a new beginning…
Benson Sculpture Garden began as a homestead and became a home for art and natural beauty. The transformation took place over a period of more than a century. The Benson family homesteaded in Loveland in 1877. Robert Benson purchased the property in 1907 from his grandfather and he farmed the land for thirty-eight years. He was influential in the Colorado Big Thompson project that developed water resources for Northern Colorado and he and his son Ralph remained active in water conservation throughout their careers. In 1961, the Benson family donated a portion of their farm to the City of Loveland for use as a wetlands area and refuge for birds. That land is now the Benson Sculpture Garden and adjacent ecosystem.
The sculpture garden was the dream of a group of Loveland citizens who saw an opportunity to make even more of the Bensons’ gift. In 1984, a group of five Loveland sculptors, George Lundeen, Dan Ostermiller, George Walbye, Fritz White, and Hollis Williford, together with representatives of the City of Loveland, the Chamber of Commerce and a few interested citizens fostered the idea of a sculpture show in Benson Park. They envisioned the outdoor art exhibition and sale as a unique environment for sculptors from across the country to showcase their work as well as a way to generate funding for a sculpture garden. The City of Loveland designated Benson Park as the site for the sculpture garden and in 1985, it became a reality. The Loveland High Plains Arts Council was formed to oversee the artistic development of the park.
The first annual Sculpture in the Park show was held in 1984, with fifty local artists participating. Two thousand people attended the show and purchased $50,000 worth of sculpture. Over the years, the Sculpture in the Park show has expanded its diversity of work to include representational, stylized, and abstract sculpture in a variety of mediums including bronze, stone, wood, ceramic, glass, metal, and mixed media. Held annually on the second weekend in August, Sculpture in the Park is now the largest outdoor juried sculpture show in the United States with sales well over $1 million.
“No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied – it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.”
— Ansel Adams
The Pikes Peak granite is a 1.08 billion year old widespread geologic formation found in the central part of the Front Range of Colorado. It is a coarse-grained pink to light red syenogranite with minor gray monzogranite, and it has a distinctive brick-red appearance where it outcrops. The granite gets its name from the 14,115-foot Pikes Peak mountain, which is made up almost entirely of this rock.
Tava, June 2023
Pikes Peak, it was known as Tavá Kaa-vi — the Sun Mountain. The mountain was named such by the indigenous Nuche tribe, a Numic-speaking people (Uto-Aztecan) known today as the Ute. It is the first Colorado 14er to have the sun hit its peak at dawn.
Tava, December 2019
In 1893, at the age of 33, Bates, an English professor at Wellesley College, had taken a train trip to Colorado Springs, Colorado, to teach a short summer school session at Colorado College. Several of the sights on her trip inspired her, and they found their way into her poem, including the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, the “White City” with its promise of the future contained within its gleaming white buildings; the wheat fields of America’s heartland Kansas, through which her train was riding on July 16; and the majestic view of the Great Plains from high atop Pikes Peak
America the Beautiful, was written just down the road from my home, by Katharine Lee Bates…so each day I spy “for purple mountain majesties” from my west window. Bates originally wrote the words as a poem, “Pikes Peak”, first published in the Fourth of July edition of the church periodical The Congregationalist in 1895.
Tava, January 2024
On the pinnacle of that mountain, the words of the poem started to come to her, and she wrote them down upon returning to her hotel room at the original Antlers Hotel. The poem was initially published two years later in The Congregationalist to commemorate the Fourth of July. It quickly caught the public’s fancy. Amended versions were published in 1904 and 1911.
Via Wikipedia
Tava, April 2021
”The mountains were his masters. They rimmed in life. They were the cup of reality, beyond growth, beyond struggle and death. They were his absolute unity in the midst of eternal change.”
― Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel
Some of us are ocean folks and others mountain people. I grew up along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, so they are my one true thing, my true north, my touchstone. The paradox is my struggle to photograph them…
Our conference will focus on creating connection, sparking imagination and inspiring creativity. As female outdoor photographers, we have repeatedly heard other women in the field express the desire to connect with others and so we decided to put together a conference to address that need.
A few months ago, I was asked by the residents of Gallery 6 to show my infrared work in their gallery as a new resident. This Friday my imagery will be hanging on the walls of Gallery 6, in Santa Fe’s Art District, in Denver. Please come by First Friday, or anytime after, to view the art displayed by some incredibly talented photographers, and of course, mine. Grateful!
INFRARED PHOTOGRAPHER SHERRI MABE OPENS AT GALLERY 6.
Imprint Colorado contest winner returns to Gallery 6 Denver as a permanent artist.
Gallery 6 is delighted to welcome accomplished infrared landscape photographer, Sherri Mabe to Denver’s Art District as the gallery’s new Resident Artist this coming First Friday.
Wide-open plains and expansive landscapes are prominent themes in Sherri’s work, expertly capturing invisible light to create ethereal qualities and convey her strong connection to the American West.
Raised in northern Colorado, Sherri’s unique approach conveys a distinct and otherworldly atmosphere in her portrayal of the prairie, southwestern deserts, and vast open spaces of the West that she considers home.
Sherri was a winner of Imprint Colorado contest run by Gallery 6 during Month of Photography Denver, in March 2023, which offered exhibition space to three upcoming Colorado photographic artists, and she has been invited back to Gallery 6 as a permanent resident.
You can preview Sherri’s stunning black and white landscape work on instagram as @starlitwaltz or her website which can be found at https://sherrimabeimages.com/
“Huddled in the North Atlantic between Iceland, Scotland and Norway, the Faroes — an 18-island archipelago and self-governing nation within the Kingdom of Denmark — captivates visitors the instant they land at the airport on the island of Vágar. Silence saturates the emerald green slopes and basalt cliffs. Sheep roam the grassy expanses that are sliced vertically by dark rocky threads caused by the erosion of streams. It’s hard to keep your eyes focused on the road as you behold a gauzy mist swirling around the mountains, veiling deep gorges, wide fjords, occasional turf-roofed dwellings and waterfalls.”
In July and part of August, I traveled via Iceland/Copenhagen to the Faroe Islands for a photography workshop. The description above doesn’t begin to describe the breathtakingly silent beauty of these islands. During my inbound flight, I sat next to a Faroese family returning from Copenhagen who travel several times a year to Europe’s mainland to get a reprieve from the cool temperatures and rain of their homeland summers. Vema shared some of her chocolates with me as we chatted during the two hour flight to the tiny airport on Vágar. She told me that many young people go off to college in Denmark, but often times return home after their university years are finished. Vema said the growth over the past 30 years has been tremendous, and there new tunnels being built to connect even more remote islands. She also said I was arriving just in time for the yearly festival, a celebration of the islands culture complete with music, food, dance and local traditional clothing.
