You’ve probably seen the colors first. They hit you before you even realize you’re looking at a mountain or a desert floor. Vivid, monochromatic saturations of electric blue, deep magenta, and scorching orange that feel like they belong on another planet. But they don't. This is Earth. Specifically, it's the American West, filtered through the analog obsession of David Benjamin Sherry photography.
Most people stumble upon his work and assume it’s a Photoshop trick. It isn’t. Sherry is a purist in the most exhausting, physical sense of the word. He lugs a wooden large-format camera—the kind that requires a dark cloth over the head—into the middle of nowhere. He’s not clicking a shutter and checking a screen. He’s capturing light on massive sheets of film, then spending weeks in a darkroom manually manipulating color filters to create these surrealist visions. It’s a queer, colorful reclamation of a landscape tradition that used to be dominated by straight, white men in hiking boots who only cared about "natural" light.
The Analog Resistance in a Digital World
We live in an era where everyone is a photographer. Your phone does the heavy lifting, balancing exposures and sharpening edges before you even see the preview. David Benjamin Sherry photography is the antithesis of that convenience. He uses an 8x10 camera. It's heavy. It’s temperamental.
When he’s out in Utah or the jagged edges of California, he’s looking for something beyond a postcard. He’s looking for a feeling. The use of monochrome color isn't just a gimmick to make things look "cool" for a gallery wall in Chelsea. It’s a psychological layer. By bathing a canyon in a monochromatic blood red, Sherry forces the viewer to actually see the form of the rock instead of just recognizing it as "a canyon."
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He’s deeply influenced by the legends—think Ansel Adams or Edward Weston—but he’s also kind of trolling them. Or maybe not trolling, but definitely pushing back. Those guys wanted to show the West as an untouched, "pure" wilderness. Sherry knows that’s a myth. He knows the land is hurting, shifting, and deeply tied to our own identities. His work in series like American Monuments isn't just about pretty rocks; it’s about the political reality of national monuments that were being threatened by federal downsizing.
Why the Color Matters So Much
Honestly, the color is a language.
In his 2014 book Earth Does Not Forget, the hues feel heavy. They feel like grief. By stripping away the "natural" greens and browns, Sherry removes the safety of the familiar. You’re forced to confront the geometry of the Earth. Sometimes, the blue is so deep it feels like you're underwater. Other times, an orange desert scene feels like it's literally on fire. This isn't just aesthetic; it’s an emotional response to the Anthropocene. That’s a fancy word for the era we’re in where humans are the primary drivers of planetary change. Sherry’s work captures the beauty of what we’re losing, but he does it in a way that feels like a vivid dream you don't want to wake up from.
It's also worth noting how he fits into the "Queer Landscape" movement. For a long time, the Great American West was framed through a very specific, masculine, rugged lens. By bringing a queer sensibility and a flamboyant, unapologetic color palette to these spaces, Sherry is basically saying that these lands belong to everyone. The dirt doesn't care who you love, but the way we see the dirt is filtered through our culture. He’s changing the filter.
The Darkroom as a Sacred Space
Most modern "film" photographers send their rolls to a lab in Los Angeles or New York. Not this guy. The soul of David Benjamin Sherry photography lives in the darkroom.
He works with analog C-prints. This is a dying art. It involves chemistry, precise timing, and a literal "feel" for the paper and the light. If you’ve ever been in a real darkroom, you know the smell—that sharp, metallic scent of fixer and developer. It’s a sensory experience that digital can’t replicate.
- He chooses a specific color filter during the printing process.
- He spends hours, sometimes days, getting the saturation just right.
- The result is a physical object. A massive print that has a depth you can't get from an inkjet printer.
There’s a specific "grain" and "glow" to his work. If you look closely at one of his large-scale prints, the detail is staggering. Because he’s using an 8x10 negative (which is enormous compared to the tiny sensor in a digital camera), the resolution is technically higher than almost any digital camera on the market. You can see every pebble, every crack in the silt, every leaf on a distant shrub. But it’s all bathed in that singular, haunting color.
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The Environmental Stakes
You can't talk about Sherry without talking about climate change. He’s been very vocal about his work as a form of activism. When he traveled to places like Bears Ears or Grand Staircase-Escalante, he wasn't just there for the "vibes." He was documenting land that was actively being debated in Washington D.C.
His photography reminds us that these places are fragile. By making them look alien, he reminds us how precious and strange they actually are. They aren't just "resources" to be mined or drilled. They are ancient, sculptural masterpieces.
He once mentioned in an interview that he feels a sense of urgency. The landscapes are changing. Wildfires are scarring the West in ways they didn't fifty years ago. Drought is changing the color of the vegetation. In a way, his monochromatic technique is a way to preserve a version of the world before it's completely transformed by the climate crisis. It’s like he’s taking a portrait of a friend who’s sick, but he’s painting them in their most vibrant, defiant colors.
How to Appreciate His Work (Without Being a Pro)
If you're looking at David Benjamin Sherry photography for the first time, don't worry about the "art speak." Don't worry about the history of the Yosemite School or the technical specs of a Schneider lens.
Just stand in front of it.
Notice how the color makes your body feel. Does the red make you feel anxious? Does the purple feel like twilight? There’s a visceral, bodily reaction to his work that most photography lacks. It’s meant to be big. It’s meant to overwhelm you.
Many collectors look for his work because it bridges the gap between traditional landscape photography and contemporary abstract art. It looks just as at home in a museum of modern art as it would in a documentary about geology. That’s a hard line to walk, but he does it by being incredibly disciplined about his craft.
Misconceptions About His Process
People often ask: "Is it really that color?"
Well, no. And yes.
The physical rock isn't neon pink. But the light that Sherry captures is real. He isn't adding the color in a computer. He is manipulating the way the film "sees" the light. It’s a subtle distinction, but it matters. It means the image is still a record of a physical moment in time. It’s a chemical reaction between light, glass, and silver. There’s a truth in that process that digital filters just can’t touch. It’s why his prints have that weird, luminous quality—the light seems to be coming from the paper rather than just sitting on top of it.
Taking Action: Exploring the World of Sherry
If this style of photography resonates with you, there are a few ways to dive deeper without just scrolling through Instagram. Seeing these works on a small screen is like listening to a symphony through a tin can.
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- Visit a Gallery: Seek out exhibitions that feature large-format analog work. Places like the Salon 94 in New York or Fraenkel Gallery in San Francisco often carry this caliber of work. The scale is everything.
- Study the "New Topographics": To understand where Sherry is coming from, look up photographers like Robert Adams or Stephen Shore. They changed how we see the "built" environment. Sherry takes those lessons and applies them to the "wild" environment.
- Try a Film Camera: You don't need an 8x10 beast. Pick up a cheap 35mm film camera. Go outside. Try to take a photo of something "boring" and make it interesting through how you frame the light. You’ll quickly realize how hard Sherry’s job actually is.
- Check Out His Books: Pink Genesis and American Monuments are essential. They aren't just coffee table books; they are manifestos on how to see the world differently.
The real takeaway from David Benjamin Sherry photography isn't that the world should be colorful. It’s that we need to pay more attention to the world we actually have. Whether he's shooting the tip of a glacier or the floor of a canyon, he's asking us to stop, look, and feel the weight of the land beneath our feet. He’s using "fake" colors to tell a very real truth about our planet and ourselves. It’s loud, it’s queer, it’s analog, and honestly, it’s exactly what the world of photography needs right now.