Author Kaupo Kikkas

Expanses of clouds and fields of snow, wooden crosses, and fir groves. And mountains,
mountains, mountains. The name on the book cover was Ansel Adams; the coated paper
was smooth beneath my fingers. I was fascinated by a sentence I still roughly recall:
tones in photography are like piano keys in music: they are the same to everyone, but only a few
can make them ring.
Our paths kept crossing until I could no longer ignore his call. I stepped in Adams’ footsteps
for the first time in America eight years ago. The trip started out as an homage to the
master and his beloved landscapes. However, longing to go back again and again, searching
for something, not really knowing what it was, and moving forward from where Adams had
left off, my own personal journey began.
What do canyons and the desert do to a person whose eyes are used to the forest? I had

entered the endless cathedral of nature. I was inspired on my journey by Arvo Pärt, a very
important composer to me. How his music might look – in trees, sand, and rock –
crystallized in my mind.
The tightened silence between his sounds also brought silence to 
my works.

My “Ansel” is the 500 million-year-old landscape. It was here before the arrival of man. It
will remain after the last of us is gone.

/ full text