Silver Light Paintings: The Photographic Image & the Upper Peninsula - Maamawi-Ozhigi - Together We Grow

Written by Will Sharp, Graduate Assistant, Beaumier U.P. Heritage Center. Dedicated to Christine Saari, a beloved community member, mentor, and friend. 

The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is a place of magnificent beauty, revered by many. Visually, this landscape offers so much for those that come here, and even more for those who stay. The landscape is filled with an immense fresh water sea; rugged, ancient mountains, and evergreens in the way of hemlocks, eastern cedar, and white pine. This region is considered one of the more rural and remote areas in the Great Lakes. This brings many things, not all convenient or positive, but it does cast a spell of enchantment when a relationship with its wonders is formed. The artist has long found a home in these landscapes. The craft of photography has been practiced here since its early days. This article, Silver Light Paintings: The Photographic Image & the Upper Peninsula shares stories and images from several regional photographers.

Christine Saari, Upper Peninsula & Austrian based artist and author

Christine Saari is an artist, author, poet, photographer, and beloved community member. In an interview with WLUC TV6 decades ago, Christine had a chance to talk about her image making. Much of Christine’s work is black and white, and over the years, she has built a magnificent collection of images that touch on her sensitivity, affinity for light, and intimate encounters. Her early work was done with a 35mm camera, and processed and developed by her. She notes that ‘black and white accentuates, it brings out the shapes and textures’. This can be seen in Christine’s beautiful photographs of curtains, windowsills, kitchen scenes, and her wonderful portraits as well. 

Christine talked about particular ways of seeing. A common practice for her over the years, especially when traveling in China, was to walk the same lanes over and over with her camera, so the locals would get used to her presence. Then when she asked for their portrait, they could be ready to give their consent. She finds it necessary to establish contact with a person first before making their photograph. This is a testament to Christine’s ethos and mission with her image making– to connect, even if it is a brief encounter. She says these moments in time can ‘stay with you for the rest of your life’. The photographs then are an interaction between the subject and the photographer, they are about the tension, the familiarity, the exchange. 

When Christine first came to the Marquette area, she was accompanying her husband Jon to Northern Michigan University, where he would become a professor. Uncertain about her ability to connect with Marquette and the Upper Peninsula, she wondered ‘what am I going to do at the end of the earth, there is nothing for me’. And yet she noted, ‘very quickly I discovered this is a place for me’. She says of  this place (Marquette) that its ‘small enough to find what you are looking for, and large enough to find what you need’. She thinks Northern Michigan University makes it unique in its culture and ways. Christine has also found connection with people in the ‘hamlets’ as she called them, ‘the people in the hamlets here remind me of Austrian mountain people. People here are connected to the land’. She went on to say ‘It was not a shock to come here. The people here are very familiar to me’. 

As Christine was beginning to cultivate a relationship with this new environment and region, she had the camera as a bridge. Christine took photography classes at Northern Michigan University, and what she did not find there, she taught herself. She noted a general difference between the male photographers and female photographers, ‘the men were very equipment oriented. It seemed to me they were not taking many personal photographs. But the women were taking photographs that were more sensitive and emotional. I was drawn to this style of photography’. A group of women photographers started a women’s photo group called Interplay: A Women’s Photocollective. This group would eventually expand and host the annual ‘UP Women’s Art Exhibit’. ‘I just found my place here’. Today Christine Saari has work in Wintergreen Gallery, where she had a studio, and The Gallery Marquette which is a collective of local artists showing and selling works. 

Christine has made a deep connection with the landscape here in the Upper Peninsula, but a deep connection with place was not something new for her. Christine was raised on a farm in Austria, a place that she still returns to for three months every year, and the place where she and her husband, Jon Saari, hope to be moving back permanently in the future. She notes that ‘My father was looking for a place where you knew every path and every tree, and you grew up with the landscape. He had this vision. This sense of place, my father had it. So I would be born there, and grow there.’ In her book Love and War at Stag Farm: The Story of Hirschengut, an Austrian Mountain Farm 1938-1948, she shares an excerpt from her parents’ diary, in it her father writes: ‘I want to sing a song of praise for home, for the place where one belongs and grows up. A song of praise for the path one walks often, for the trees one sees every day. How deeply I wish that you will never have to question the years of your childhood, that you will not need to fight for them. That they may be without strife, that you may solely be happy in them. How much do I wish that and that I will be able to help make that happen’. Christine confirms that even though she grew up in a war and experienced many changes and unexpected turns along the way, there has been magic in her long life. She feels grateful to have had deep connections with landscapes, their people, and unique place-based cultures in her life. 

George Shiras III, Wildlife Photographer, Conservationist, Lawyer, Senator

The history of photography in the Upper Peninsula cannot be written about without including George Shiras III. Shiras occupies a unique intersection of politics, innovation, and art. Shiras was a Pennsylvania lawyer and Congressman, a naturalist, and a close ally of Theodore Roosevelt. For photographers, artists, and wildlife photographers, his most enduring legacy was made in the dark waters of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. His first encounters with the Upper Peninsula may have been as a young hunter, but by later trading the gun for the camera, Shiras in many ways changed how people viewed the natural world, its more-than-human relatives, and would lay the groundwork for modern wildlife photography.

George Shiras III’s connection to nature began in his youth at Whitefish Lake in Alger County, Michigan, the site of a hunting camp owned by Peter White, whose daughter, Frances, Shiras would eventually marry. As detailed in James H. McCommons’ biography, Camera Hunter: George Shiras III and the Birth of Wildlife Photography (University of New Mexico Press), Shiras, perhaps through his intimate encounters with the landscape in Michigan, broke away from the hunting culture. At a time when animals were viewed primarily as resources or trophies, Shiras began to view them as subjects worthy of witness. McCommons argues that for Shiras, the camera became a tool of ethics. As will be documented in the Beaumier U.P. Heritage Center’s 2026 Exhibit, “The Conservationists: George Shiras III, Theodore Roosevelt and the Migratory Bird Act”, this shift was political. His photography was part of visual evidence needed to support the ripening conservation movement, shifting public consciousness to see animals as part of the whole, and something to conserve. 

Shiras’s most significant contribution to photography was his use of flash and his exploration of night photography. In the 1890s and 1910s, utilizing the newest portable cameras and high-speed film, he sought to capture the nocturnal fauna that evaded the human eye during the day. Working closely with his guide and assistant, John Hammer, Shiras developed revolutionary apparatuses to trigger flashes and cameras remotely. These techniques—including the floating blind and the camera trap—allowed him to capture deer, owls, and other creatures in their candid, natural states. The results were so unprecedented that Shiras was awarded the Grand Prize for photography at the Paris Exposition in 1900, and his work later became a staple of National Geographic Magazine. Many of the images, instruments, and archives of Shiras would be donated to Northern Michigan University where they are housed in the Central Upper Peninsula and NMU Archives. 

The artistic merit of Shiras’s work continues to be recognized globally, putting the Upper Peninsula region and Lake Superior on the map and gallery walls across Europe. The photobook In the Heart of the Dark Night, published by the specialized French house Éditions Xavier Barral, treats Shiras’s archive with the reverence of fine art. Edited by independent curator Sonia Voss—known for her work with historical photography in France and Germany—the book features an introduction by French writer and poet Jean-Christophe Bailly. This publication, which can be found at the Peter White Library, curates Shiras’s images not merely as historical documentation, but black and white light paintings, significant in their own right as works of art. 

The stewardship of Shiras’s archive and legacy has largely fallen to institutions within Northern Michigan University. The Beaumier U.P. Heritage Center and the DeVos Art Museum have long collaborated to keep Shiras’s work accessible to the public. A large moment in this effort was the exhibition “George Shiras III: Hunting Wildlife with Camera and Flashlight,” which opened in May 2010. A remounting of a 1990 showcase, this exhibition featured three dozen nature photographs from the DeVos Art Museum’s permanent collection. It went beyond the images to display the ingenuity behind them, featuring period cameras provided by Jack Deo of Superior View and the actual remote-trigger apparatus designed by John Hammer. The exhibition was a testament to academic collaboration, with narrative and research provided by NMU student Lindsey Strzyzykowski and exhibition design by Art & Design student Sean Stimac. Beaumier U.P. Heritage Center current exhibition titled “The Conservationists: George Shiras III, Theodore Roosevelt, and the Migratory Bird Act.” This exhibit contextualizes Shiras not just as a photographer, but as a pivotal figure in legislative conservation.

Jack Deo, Photographer, Historian, Photo Collector, Superior View Gallery

Jack Deo and the history of photography in the Upper Peninsula have become synonymous. Deo has committed his life to this medium, to photographers who have documented the region, and to sharing to the community the gems he finds hidden in the large archives of his collection. Founded in Marquette, Michigan, in 1978, “Superior View Gallery” is the name of his archival collection. While Deo has been an award-winning photographer in his own right since 1969, his heritage has largely been grown thanks to his service of preserving other regional photographers' work. Jack Deo attended Northern Michigan University from 1973-1975 where he majored in Sociology and minored in psychology. He worked at the Marquette County Youth Home before opening his photography business. Deo can often be heard saying ‘I am the luckiest man in the world. I got to do this work my whole life’. His business began when Deo was just 25 years old, preparing to open a studio on the second floor of the historic Donckers building in downtown Marquette. The rent was $87.50 a month, and he had built a darkroom in the space, intending to focus on commercial photography and tintypes. However, the trajectory of his career shifted when he acquired the assets of the Childs Art Gallery.

The Childs Art Gallery, founded in the 1860s by Brainard F. Childs, was the premier photography studio of the Upper Peninsula for three generations. When the business closed, Deo purchased the equipment and, crucially, the archive of original glass negatives. This acquisition sparked a decades-long effort to recover the region's visual history. Today, the Superior View archive contains over 100,000 images, gathered from basements, attics, and garages across the Upper Peninsula. The core of this collection is the work of B.F. Childs himself. Childs made images with a specialized double-lens camera, allowing him to create immersive stereoscopic series. In recognition of this work, Deo is currently collaborating with Lynn Marie Mitchell on a major new book titled The Gems of Lake Superior, scheduled for release in Spring 2026. Mitchell, an archivist with the National Park Service and a recognized expert on stereo photography, recently moved to Marquette to complete this extensive project with Deo.

Following the Childs acquisition, he began tracking down other major regional archives. A tip at a local art fair led him to a basement on Bluff Street in Marquette, where he recovered thousands of glass negatives from the G.A. Werner Studio, including the famous 1893 image, "World's Fair Load of Logs. Similar "treasure hunts" yielded significant results across the peninsula. In Lake Linden, Deo followed a lead to the Nara family farm. While the family had donated prints to Michigan Tech, the negatives of J.W. Nara—documenting life in the Copper Country, including the 1913 Strike and Italian Hall Disaster—were found sitting in an old sauna, packed with glass and celluloid plates. In Gwinn, Deo answered a call from an auto garage where the Peterson Brothers' collection was stored in original wooden crates. This collection captured the construction of the Menominee River Dam and rural life between Menominee and Gwinn.

Deo also absorbed the archives of his contemporaries and predecessors who trusted him with their life's work. This includes Mary Jayne Hallifax, the "Munising Photographer," who documented her community for 70 years using a 4x5 Speed Graphic; Ike Wood, who provided rare historical images of the Marquette Branch Prison; and Sigurd Wilson, a commercial pilot who captured aerial views of the region in the 1930s.

For 35 years, preserving these images required rigorous technical work. Deo operated as a copy and restoration specialist, using specialized lenses to transfer glass plates, and a flatbed scanner to scan in paper negatives and prints. While the transition to digital has made the process cleaner in scanning and archiving— he still spends countless hours "fighting the dust". Deo says that he ran a ‘Wanted to Buy’ ad for years. He feels he has seen the greatest private family collections and said that almost everyone offered him the opportunity to make copies for himself. Some of his most intimate and unique images came from the pages of hundreds of family albums that were brought to him. 

‘The Deo Gallery’ in the Peter White Public Library was named for both Jack and his wife Cindy, who has been involved with local arts since 1978. Cindy is currently highly involved with the Lake Superior Art Association. Jack says he never gives a program without saying that he would not be where he is today without his wife's support. In fact, Cindy brought home the first old photograph back in the day, an action which Jack claims ‘got the ball rolling’.  

Today, Jack Deo operates as a "local curator." He uses the archive to support institutions like the Marquette Regional History Center and to engage the community directly. His slide shows draw large crowds, projecting the images on the big screen where they can be animated and entered into. On January 22, 2026 at the Kaufman Auditorium, Jack Deo and Jim Koski took the stage for their annual presentation of photographs and the story behind them. They called this presentation Legends & Lore: Marquette Unknown. For Deo, the value of a photograph lies in it being used and enjoyed, ensuring the history of our place is not just stored away, but kept alive and remembered.  

Christine Lenzen, Fine Art Photographer, NMU Photography Professor, Minneapolis Native

Christine Lenzen earned her BFA in Photography from the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis (2008), followed by an MFA in Photography from the University of Notre Dame (2012). Raised in South Minneapolis, Lenzen holds Minnesota and the Twin Cities with extreme reverence, this being the place where a majority of her photographs have been made as well. Lenzen is now a professor of photography at Northern Michigan University, where she teaches a wide range of photographic studies to students. Lenzen initially viewed her time in the Upper Peninsula as temporary. Over time, however, she developed a deep connection to the region’s geography and landscape, ultimately building a life there and marrying her partner. This ongoing negotiation between origin and belonging—between the place she comes from and the place she now calls home—remains central to her work. Lenzen’s family is still in Minneapolis, and she feels a pull towards being in that place during the winter protests and community action. She noted she wishes she were able to ‘take students to the Cities to make images and teach about protest and ethics in photography’.

Christine Lenzen’s own artistic practice explores photography’s mnemonic capacity—its ability to hold memory, mediate loss, and complicate acts of remembrance. In re:Collections, Lenzen works with photographs drawn from her deceased grandmother’s personal archive, situating these images within research on public and private memorial rituals, historical and contemporary photographic theory, and familial folklore. The work examines the fragile boundary between remembering and forgetting, particularly in relation to grief and trauma. Formally, the installation draws from the visual language of both archival systems and religious altars, positioning remembrance as an active, embodied process. Composed of multiple discrete elements, the installation reveals itself as an evolving sequence, each component representing a step in an ongoing struggle between the desire to forget and the human propensity to remember.

This investigation into memory, impermanence, and materiality continues in the series ‘In the Woods’. At first glance, the photographs function as quiet homages to the beauty of the natural world. Each image—a portrait of a tree—is printed directly onto birch bark using the cyanotype process. As in nature itself, no two works are identical; the organic surface and alternative process resist exact replication. Over time, however, the inherent acidity of the birch bark causes the images to shift, fade, and eventually disappear. This slow degradation parallels broader societal relationships to the environment: while natural beauty is often revered, its long-term preservation is frequently neglected. Without intentional intervention, these landscapes—like the images themselves—will vanish.

Much of Lenzen’s work is rooted in family history and identity, particularly her connection to her mother’s lineage and her Norwegian-descended grandmother. Many of the archival images originate in Minneapolis. She noted that eventually she would like to create a book about the work with her mother, a visual memoir. The book may pose the question, “What does it mean to have lived a life, and a life that has ended?”. Leading up to 2020, Lenzen developed a body of Upper Peninsula–based work titled ‘Forever a Wilderness’, which marked a turning point in her practice—not simply acknowledging the region as home, but fully accepting it as such.

Christine Lenzen approaches teaching from a fine art perspective, grounded in the belief that photography functions as a visual language. Every photograph communicates meaning through deliberate choices—framing, light, material, process, and context—and her pedagogy emphasizes helping students become fluent in that language. Working with students whose interests range from freelance and commercial photography to conceptual fine art practice, Lenzen focuses on equipping them with adaptable tools rather than prescribing a single professional trajectory. Central to Lenzen’s teaching is a commitment to expanding whose work is studied and how photographic histories are framed. Lenzen stated that NMU has just redone the curriculum in the art and design program, which has been a central focus for her as of late. Lenzen said that she is hoping to take on the history of photography course, and focus more thematically across time. Lenzen hopes to include more artists of color, midwestern artists, explore protest photography up until this day, and even dive into visual literacy and engage discussions around how the camera on phones are used today in places like Minneapolis. 

Geoff Woodcox, Manager of Curatorial Affairs at Ruth Mott Foundation

Geoff Woodcox currently serves as the Manager of Curatorial Affairs at the Ruth Mott Foundation in Flint, Michigan, where he cares for the collections and historic buildings of the Applewood estate. But twenty years ago, his path to curation began in the darkrooms and archives of Northern Michigan University. During his senior year, he worked at the Beaumier U.P. Heritage Center. In speaking with Geoff, he credited his time at the Beaumier as the catalyst for his career. In 2007, while a photography major at Northern, he assisted with a university history exhibit at the Center. By then, he already knew he wanted to work in museums, so he used his senior show as an opportunity to blend his artistic training with his intended career path.

His project focused on the visual history of Northern’s campus. Geoff noted that because so many historic buildings have been demolished over the years, the campus of 1955 looks almost unrecognizable compared to the campus of today. "If I didn’t know better," he said, "I’d guess NMU was founded in the 1960s just by looking at the architecture." But he shed a light on the idea that there was this whole earlier campus that existed before that, and he had the idea to share this to his classmates.To do this, he paired archival images with his own modern photographs. One striking example he recalled was matching a historic image of Kaye Hall with a modern shot of the building's original sandstone blocks, which he found sitting on pallets behind the public safety building.

Geoff spoke fondly of the process, noting that the photography program at the time was still fully analog. He shot the film, developed it, and printed it in the darkroom himself. "There was something very satisfying about creating something and having a hand in every step of the process," he said. He also shared a specific memory from a senior seminar critique (AD 403) that validated his approach. He presented an aerial photo from the 1960s that showed familiar landmarks like the University Center and Hedgecock Fieldhouse, but with the now-demolished Kaye Hall sitting right in the middle of them. He still remembers the reaction from his classmates as they saw a lost piece of history contextualized within a landscape they recognized.

After graduating, Geoff earned his MA in museum studies from the Cooperstown Graduate Program and has been a history museum curator since 2013. Today, his work is driven by a belief that museums can be platforms for healing, repair, and reconciliation, among other things. He once wrote for History News about how institutions can right past wrongs and repair relationships with communities. He notes that museums could be seen as a platform so that others can have a voice can help to instigate healing, especially in uncovering or telling a painful story that has never been acknowledged. 

AJ Jensen, photographer, darkroom printer, Michigan Silver Prints, NMU Photo Alum

AJ Jensen is a man of routine, ritual, and wonder. Each autumn, when Lake Superior begins to show its wild face of the coming winter, he can be seen on the edge of everything, making photograph after photograph of the waves crashing along the ancient shoreline. AJ has long beloved the Marquette area for its access to natural wonders. He came here for his undergraduate at Northern Michigan University, quickly falling in love with the landscape and his new home. At NMU, he was able to take darkroom photography. He noted that Photo I was black and white darkroom photography at the time. He began to apprentice this medium then and now years and years later he is still in relationship with it. 

Jensen notes that as an undergrad, the thing that made it more serious for him was the history of photography class. He said that it ‘it opened my eyes’. He was enriched knowing that there was so much history behind this medium. He said that through viewing photographs of the past, and learning about photographers who have seen the world in their particular way, he began to find his way. That course gave him a foundation to keep exploring that call and longing. At the time of Jensen’s training, Christine Flavin was the photo professor. Jensen exclaimed ‘She was a fantastic professor’. He was especially grateful for his study abroad trip where Flavin set up an entire class where students went to France and England. They went to see the Joseph Nicéphore Niépce heliograph, also called a ‘sun writing’, which is considered to be the earliest surviving photograph. They went to Henry Fox Talibut’s home to view some of the oldest images ever made and also the birthplace of the first photography book, The Pencil of Nature. 

Jensen has continued his relationship to the Marquette region with his biking expeditions, canoe trips, and his journeys on foot with his camera to similar, familiar places. A philosophy he tries to follow is to ‘make photographs freely’ and ‘trying to be open to the experience of seeing things’. One of AJ’s main themes in his photographic work is that of time. He recalled a conversation with his father in law last summer in which they were peering into a supernova in another galaxy through a telescope. Jensen was reflecting on time, the many thousand light years they were viewing as light in the telescope. At the time, he was standing on middle island point, talking about this old, ancient, yet ever present event that they were viewing, and at the same time standing on rock that is 2 billion years old. Jensen is continually amazed by the fact of the Upper Peninsula as a place where he can stand on rocks that predate life on Earth. He notes that some of the oldest rocks on Earth can be found here. He said that Blackrocks formation is around 1.7 billion years old, which is very close to the time when multicellular organisms first show up on Earth.

Another aspect of the region that informs Jensen’s photographic process is the failed mid continental rift, which “almost ripped North America apart”. Jensen stated his ongoing interest in this failed rift that created the rocks that are in our backyard. The geological history of the area continues to spark his studies of the context of the place where he makes work. Jensen commented on his wild adventures to take photographs at Blackrocks, a location on Presque Isle Park, well-known to locals for its dark rocks, jumping cliffs, and special coves. He does not go to this spot when most other residents do, in summertime, on a pleasant day.o, he does this at the opposite time: during storms. He stands on ancient rocks, and looks out to the lake. And these two things together: the lake and the inland sea of Superior, haven’t changed in 10,000 years. But during these storms, everything to him starts to become alive.

        Jensen mentioned a large inspiration for his photography as being Annie Dillard, and her book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, a 1974 Pulitzer Prize-winning nonfiction book chronicling a year of observing nature. He began to read from her text: "The particles are broken; the waves are translucent, laving, roiling with beauty like sharks. The present is the wave that explodes over my head, flinging the air with particles at the height of its breathless unroll; it is the live water and light that bears from undisclosed sources the freshest news, renewed and renewing, world without end.”

For the past fifteen years, Jensen has viewed the world through the lens of the same medium format film camera. In an era defined by the immediacy of digital sensors and instant feedback, he remains committed to a slower, more deliberate practice. For Jensen, the constraints of the medium are the point: with fewer frames per roll, every shutter click requires a heightened sense of intentionality. In discussing his process, Jensen describes a state of flow where instinct takes over. "I would never want to know what I am doing while I am doing it," he admits. He finds that his strongest images are often the ones he doesn't consciously remember taking—moments where he was simply responding to the world rather than thinking about it. He values the "delay" inherent in film; unlike digital photography, where one might be tempted to check the screen and "correct" an interesting mistake immediately, film forces the artist to wait. 

Jensen is a self-described purist, dedicated to carrying the analog tool through to the final result: a silver gelatin print. His workspace reflects a deep connection to the region’s history. Over the years, he has constructed a darkroom in his basement using salvaged materials from across the Upper Peninsula. His developing sink was rescued from the old Munising newspaper office, and he utilizes a repurposed X-ray viewer from Marquette General Hospital as his light table. Michigan Silver Prints is the title of his current works, honoring the medium of silver gelatin and his beloved home. He builds his own frames, primarily from oak, but recently acquired a unique stock of maple hardwood flooring from a sawmill near Crystal Falls, MI. These boards were originally manufactured for NCAA basketball courts but were rejected for being 1/100th of an inch off specification. Rescued from disposal, this "imperfect" wood now frames Jensen’s silver gelatin prints.

Jensen views his work as a continuation of Marquette’s rich lineage of black and white photography. He cites the influence of Jack Deo and Superior View—where he used to purchase his film—as well as the pioneering wildlife photography of George Shiras III. Inspired by Shiras, Jensen frequently employs flash in his work. By photographing the same rugged subjects as his predecessors—mines, logging properties, and old cabins—Jensen creates images that feel timeless. Jensen ends, saying in his own experiential way of being with the world, camera in hand, ‘I’m getting the newest thing. Which is the north wind blowing across Lake Superior from Canada, & I wouldn’t want it any other way’. 

Kristine T. Hunter, Artist, Curator, Faculty at Bay College, Founder of Rock Street Artist Residency

For Kristine T. Hunter, the Upper Peninsula, its lands, waters, and forests, are much more than a geography, and much more than ‘home’ or the place she was born. The place is part of her being. She describes herself as "an embodiment of this place," and mentions a sensorial connection to the specific, subtle light of the region. It is this light—carried with her always—that first opened the door to her practice of photography. Through the medium of photography, the abstract feeling of embodiment became actualized, taking on physical form through the photograph.

Hunter’s journey into photography was necessitated by a profound need to reclaim a Self that had been fragmented by loss and trauma. The learning was in the making, and through the emergent practice of photography, disintegration has led to integration. In her earlier years, she experienced events that led to dissociation; she describes a time when she "could not hold myself in this body," feeling betrayed by a world that had inflicted such pain. Hunter mentioned spending some time modeling for other photographers, but this led to a passive state where the photographer or artist had the power of looking and choosing. Photography for herself, in the act of self portraiture and landscape imagery, shifted this dynamic, giving her agency and autonomy. "When I made images, I was able to choose," Hunter notes. There was a shift from object to subject, from being observed to doing the observing– in the ways she longed to, with curiosity, wonder, and compassion. 

This shift was a homecoming. Upon seeing her first contact sheets, Hunter realized she had found a way to articulate what other art forms could not. Photography became the witness that proved her existence—proof that she was there, and present. Her artistic process is deeply tactile and rooted in the landscape. Working primarily in black and white film, Hunter views her body as an extension of the nature she captures. By connecting her body to the land, she found a bridge, pathway, or portal towards more wholeness. This connection is most evident in her performance work within nature. In these spaces, she does not dissociate– the animated, alive earth moors her, anchoring her to the ongoing process of being human. 

Hunter received her first camera in elementary school, an early tool for storytelling. Later, she was given the camera of her father, who was also a photographer. Her approach to the landscape and more-than-human world diverges from local historical figures like George Shiras. While Shiras did capture the wildlife of the region, Hunter views him as an outsider who "startled the unseen." In contrast, Kristine positions herself and shows up through gentle observation, and gratitude, waiting for the unseen to reveal itself. She acknowledges a difference in how we belong, and through her life’s work, implores young artists to consider moving differently: "This land owns me, I don’t own it."

Her philosophy of anchoring, mooring, and grounding extends to her relationship with cycles, returns, and domestic land based rituals. Every year, she repairs a dock cut from the cedar of the swamp at her family’s camp. It is a labor of maintenance and a meditation on resilience, and return. The dock, which she has photographed countless times looking out toward the water, serves as a doorway toward possibility. "It still exists after repair," she says. "No matter what happens, I repair."

Her daily practice is a relationship of observation—photographing the land, water, and sky as a marker of time and a gift to herself. It is a solitary pursuit that nonetheless opens doors to connection. Upon returning to Marquette, Hunter found a kindred spirit in Christine Saari. Both artists share a history of traumatic loss and ungroundedness, and both have found their footing through their work. "You see what I see," Hunter said immediately to Saari. This shared vision and kinship has created a community of care, where images are not just art, but a culture of co-creation, gratitude, and reverence. 

Sources:

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Central Upper Peninsula and Northern Michigan University Archives. (n.d.).

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Dillard, A. (1999). Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Harper Perennial.

Hilton, M. (1974). Northern Michigan University – The first 75 years. NMU Press.

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McCommons, J. H. (2019). Camera hunter: George Shiras III and the birth of wildlife photography. University of New Mexico Press.

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