DAVID BENJAMIN SHERRY'S dramatic, color-saturated landscapes of the American west are a modern evolution of the work of photography giants such as Ansel Adams and Carleton Watkins. Building on the tradition of the masters, these photos are shot with the same kind of analog 8-by-10 film camera. Standing on a mountaintop, head under a cloth, the artist composes the shots while peering into the viewfinder upside down. The final images are revealed only after the film has been processed, after which significant work is done in the darkroom to arrive at final prints in the trademark monochromatic colors. Sherry’s work has been exhibited in solo shows around the world, and can be seen in the permanent collections of museums including the Whitney, LACMA, and London’s Saatchi Collection. Here, exclusively for Departures, is his newest collection of work — and the story of the journey that was undertaken to make it, documented by his partner, writer Shaw Bowman.

David and I had visited Santa Fe often, usually on our annual drive from Los Angeles to spend the holidays with my family in the Deep South. His large-format landscape photography work also drew him there frequently, and almost since we arrived in LA from New York nine years ago, he’d been itching to return for good. I’d always thrown cold water on those dreams, due to an admitted aversion to both change AND risk, but a proliferation of remote work opportunities, plus pandemic-era home buying incentives, meant Santa Fe was no longer wildly impractical. I, too, am not immune to its charms, so here we are, and I’m happy about it — as I generally am once I relent to his whims.

Day 1: Santa Fe, Taos

We started our journey by making our way north toward the vaunted “High Road to Taos.” The historic Santuario de Chimayo church was our only stop. David collected some of its signature healing dirt for his bad back (being raised Jewish didn’t seem to be a conflict), and we continued on past Taos and toward the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge to claim an optimal spot to capture the sunset and the rise of the full moon. Thankfully, the wind was uncharacteristically light (we wouldn’t be so lucky the next few days; I’m learning that that’s just spring in New Mexico), and I was thrilled to spot a herd of bighorn sheep in an adjacent field and a few pronghorns strolling along the river 600 feet below us. We were also treated to the first of an inevitable succession of comments from older men about David’s anachronistic camera, which can range from a good-natured “That thing looks heavy!” (today’s remark) to higher concept jokes about it being the latest iPhone. Because art is a cruel master, and sunsets happen late these days, we were obliged to forfeit our reservation at Lambert’s that night, but the kind folks at Doc Martin’s (conveniently located inside the Taos Inn, where we were staying) let us place our green chile cheeseburger and margarita orders just under the wire, so we still got the “Taos’s living room” experience touted on the restaurant’s website.

Day 2: Rio Grande del Norte National Monument, Abiquiu

David aimed to shoot another section of the Rio Grande Gorge, so we drove up to the Rio Grande del Norte National Monument and braved the near gale force wind so he could capture the deepest and widest point of the gorge from a very precarious ledge. Here the Red River joins the Rio Grande, at a lovely campground appropriately called La Junta, in the parking lot of which David’s camera elicited a “Holy mackerel!” from a gray-haired gentleman. With a couple of shots in the can (or more accurately, in the neoprene sleeve), we were on our way up to Abiquiu, just an hour or so to the west(ish). Our first objective was a twilight portrait of Cerro Pedernal, the narrow 10,000-foot mesa that so transfixed Georgia O’Keeffe that she had her ashes scattered there. After some light off-roading and fence-hopping, David took his shots and we raced back to the Abiquiu Inn, placing our dinner order at the hotel restaurant on our way because it was closing imminently, and it’s the only game in town.

Day 3: Abiquiu, continued

Considering Ms. O’Keeffe’s longstanding relationship with Abiquiu, it’s not shocking to report that it has more than its fair share of picturesque vistas, so we decided to spend a full day there. For the morning, we had booked a self-guided exploration of Ghost Ranch, a 21,000-acre preserve of which O’Keeffe once claimed seven. The afternoon was dedicated to the White Place, an otherworldly landscape of lumpy volcanic rock protrusions the color of bleached bone, and another of O’Keeffe’s favorite subjects. Ghost Ranch was a particular highlight. After loading up in the gift shop (we love a road souvenir), we climbed slowly up to Chimney Rock (a tall, narrow rock formation resembling, not surprisingly, a chimney), entertaining the questions of curious fellow hikers along the way. David’s camera really is a conversation piece! Wizard and Magic are showstoppers too, and I should also note that David’s nifty pop-up camper, built on the bed of his handsome green Tacoma, attracts chatty overlander bros and dads like dog hair to my Patagonia Snap-T fleece — so David’s meticulous process isn’t the only thing slowing us down on this trip. But there are worse places to be forced to linger.

Day 4: Los Alamos, Bandelier National Monument, Valles Caldera National Preserve, Jemez Springs

Our next destination was Bandelier National Monument, famous for the Ancestral Puebloan cliff dwellings, or cavates, carved out of the soft volcanic rock walls of Frijoles Canyon, south of Los Alamos. I suggested we take the slightly longer route through Los Alamos itself, out of curiosity, which meant clearing some fairly intimidating security checkpoints surrounding the storied cradle of nuclear weaponry. Thankfully, a stint in a holding cell was not in the cards. Bandelier is a pretty hands-on experience. Visitors are encouraged to climb ladders into some of the cavates, which is a little disquieting during a pandemic — but that’s what masks and Purell are for. David opted to experience the ruins through his viewfinder. Afterward, we headed deeper into the Jemez Mountains toward our accommodations for the night, Jemez Springs’ no-frills Laughing Lizard Inn (one of the surprisingly few pet-friendly options around). On the way, we passed a dramatically sprawling grassland that turned out to be Valles Caldera National Preserve. It was not on our itinerary, but should have been. David was seized with the impulse to capture the scene on film, and I with the impulse to play ball with the dogs. So we stopped for a half-hour before barely making it in time for last call at Los Ojos Restaurant & Saloon in Jemez Springs. I couldn’t not order the chicken fried steak. David was similarly compelled by the jalapeno poppers.

Day 6 & 7: El Malpais National Monument, Pie Town, Very Large Array, Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, Truth or Consequences

We then pointed the Tacoma south, first paying a quick visit to La Ventana Arch in El Malpais National Monument (neither of us can resist a natural arch), then driving across more desolately beautiful grassland toward the one destination I dug my heels in about, in the face of David’s ambivalence — Pie Town. Along the way, we also passed the site of Walter De Maria’s seminal work of land art, The Lightning Field, which means I can mention it here. But back to Pie Town! This unincorporated community sprang up in the early 1920s around a general store and bakery known for its pies, with more pie purveyors joining and eventually replacing the first. As far as we could tell, there is again just one, The Gatherin’ Place, but that was sufficient for our purposes, and my cherry chocolate mini pie was deeply satisfying. The next stop was the truly awe-inspiring if unimaginatively named Very Large Array radio astronomy observatory, immortalized in the film “Contact.” David shot a portrait, and I had some more dog/ball time. The observatory was closed, but we managed to get close enough that the on-site security personnel made us turn off our phones to prevent them from interfering with the instruments. After that, we drove the loop roads around the dreamy Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, which straddles another stretch of the Rio Grande. We spotted wild turkeys and a squadron of the pig-like javelinas, though not the sandhill cranes that serve as the area’s main attraction during the fall and winter. We spent that night, and the next, at Ted Turner’s historic Sierra Grande Lodge & Spa in Truth or Consequences, where we mostly just soaked in the area’s hot springs and read on our waterproof Kindles, when David wasn’t loading and unloading 8-by-10 film. We also got to return to our favorite old-school surf and turf restaurant, Los Arcos, where I indulged in both surf and turf; David opted for just the former.

Day 10 & 11: Cloudcroft, Ruidoso, Lincoln, Portales, Fort Sumner, Santa Fe

We headed for the hills east of White Sands, bound for Lincoln County, the stomping grounds of notorious outlaw Billy the Kid toward the end of his short life. After a quick and fruitful stop at the Turquoise Shop in the quaint mountain town of Cloudcroft, the rest of the trip was chiefly spent exploring my site-specific, only semi-sincere interest in Billy, whose deep association with New Mexico I had just discovered. We’d even watched “Young Guns,” featuring a young Emilio Estevez as Billy, because of our route through Lincoln where the movie was set. The real Lincoln was a satisfyingly preserved Old West town, as advertised, but we couldn’t stay long because our vaccines awaited in Portales. We then paid our respects at Billy’s grave in Fort Sumner, conveniently situated between Portales and Santa Fe. Upon our return home, we decided to treat ourselves to a celebratory dinner at The Shed on Santa Fe’s plaza, before succumbing to the side effects of our shots and passing out in our own bed, finally.

We’d left home as New Mexico neophytes, and returned with a deeper appreciation for the state (and yes, a much better sense of the geography), but also the exciting thought that we’d only just scratched the surface. There is so much more to see and experience in our enchanting new home state, but for now we’re excited to continue exploring the charms and vistas within walking distance, which are thankfully plentiful.