Jerome State Historic Park

Author's Comments

The mansion sits on its own shoulder of the mountain, and that is really the point. James Douglas built high so he could look down on his mine, and what he ended up with, almost incidentally, is one of the broadest views in central Arizona. From the terrace you can see the Verde Valley unspool eastward, the red rocks of Sedona catching first light, and on a clear morning the San Francisco Peaks rising white behind everything else. I come here in November, early, when the air is thin and cold and the valley is still holding the night's shadow. The light arrives in stages. First the peaks, then Sedona, then slowly the floor of the valley, and by the time the terrace itself is lit the layers have already done their work in the distance. A wide lens makes sense here, but I find the more interesting frames are made with something longer, pulling Sedona forward across thirty miles of empty air until the red rock reads almost close enough to touch. The mansion itself is worth the slow walk through. Adobe and brick, territorial lines, the kind of building that was meant to announce something and still does. Inside, the museum is small and earnest and tells the story of a town that nearly disappeared. I do not photograph the interior much. The light is difficult and the rooms are crowded with information rather than air. But I always spend time there before going back out to the terrace, because the view means more once you understand what was pulled out of the mountain below it. Crowds are not really a problem. Most people are down in town, browsing the shops. Up here it is mostly just the wind.

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