I didn't plan to go to Canyonlands National Park looking for anything. But six miles of precarious trail outside Moab, Utah — two hours at 2 to 5 miles per hour — has a way of forcing presence. What I found in the Needles District was a solitary juniper on bare slickrock, a dead tree still reaching, and a canyon too vast for any single frame. Five black and white landscapes, and everything I needed to remember about why I photograph people.

I want to be clear about something: I did not lose my job. I was not laid off. At 52, with my 53rd birthday around the corner, I walked away from 23 years of nonprofit work to become a full-time photographer. Nobody made me do it. It has been the hardest and most clarifying year of my life.