A Detour Through a Cotton Field

I didn't leave home that morning planning to photograph a cotton field.

Then again, that's how a lot of my photography happens.

My girlfriend and I had spent the day in North Alabama, and by the afternoon we were making our way toward Athens. There was a small farm stand I'd seen on TikTok that sold homemade sourdough bread, and since we were already in the area, I wanted to stop by.

There were goats, too.

My girlfriend loves animals, and for a couple of dollars you could feed them, so that certainly didn't hurt the argument for making the trip.

But somewhere along the way, I drove past where we needed to turn.

I found a place to turn around.

And that's when I saw the cotton field.

There wasn't anything complicated about the decision to stop. It was late October, the cotton was ready, and something about the field caught my attention.

So I pulled over.

I've photographed cotton fields before. Sometimes I've come away with photographs I liked. Other times, what I saw with my eyes never quite translated through the camera.

But that's never stopped me from trying again.

This time I started by getting down low and close to the cotton. I moved around, tried several compositions, and eventually found one boll that stood out from the others.

I crouched down, got close and made the photograph.

That became Cotton in Bloom.

It's a simple photograph, but that's part of what I like about it. One cotton boll fills the foreground while the rest of the field stretches away behind it. Instead of showing the entire landscape, the photograph is about one small part of it.

But I wasn't finished.

I stood back up and looked across the field.

Same field.

Same afternoon.

Same 16mm lens.

Completely different photograph.

The cotton stretched toward the horizon beneath a sky filled with clouds. When I made the photograph, I wasn't necessarily thinking about black and white. That decision came later when I was looking through the images.

Something about those clouds made me wonder what would happen if I removed the color.

So I tried it.

Immediately, the detail in the sky became more pronounced. The clouds had more presence, and the entire scene took on a different character.

That photograph became Whispers of Cotton.

Looking at the two photographs now, I like that they came from the same field on the same day.

One is close and intimate.

The other steps back and takes in the entire landscape.

And neither one was planned.

The cotton field wasn't one of my destinations that day. I hadn't researched it. I didn't know it was there. I wasn't waiting for perfect light or trying to create a photograph I'd already imagined.

I simply missed a turn, found a place to turn around and noticed something worth stopping for.

That's actually a pretty good description of how I photograph.

I rarely head out with a list of specific photographs I intend to make. I may have a destination in mind, but what happens between leaving home and getting there is usually just as important.

I look.

And every once in a while, something tells me to stop and take a picture.

Sometimes it works.

Sometimes it doesn't.

And sometimes a wrong turn gives me two photographs I never knew I was looking for.

Technical Specs

Both photographs were captured with my Sony A7 IV and 16mm lens near Athens, Alabama, on October 25, 2025.

Available as Fine Art

Cotton in Bloom and Whispers of Cotton are both available in my Open Country & Fields Collection. You can view these photographs and the rest of the collection here:

Open Country & Fields Collection