Losing a friend, keeping the faith
On November 5, I drove out to Roanoke, Virginia to meet up with Russell Young. We had planned this for some time, and he was excited to be able to show me his new home, having moved from his farm in Floyd. I was eagerly anticipating the weekend, since I last visited him in Floyd in May, when I dropped off a carton of our joint publication “Below the Firmament and The Heavens. An Exploration of Floyd, County, Virginia.” I was a little worried though, as he had not answered my texts or phone call earlier in the week. That wasn’t like him, but I figured that he would contact me if he was ill. When I arrived at his house, I at first thought that perhaps I’d written it down wrong, as I did not see his truck in the driveway, but two other vehicles that I didn’t recognize. With some trepidation, I walked up to the house and knew it was his, because of the SW-themed decor in the window. The leaves were piled up except around the doorway, and as I knocked, the door opened immediately. There stood his neighbor Clay, from Floyd who I recognized. Russ’ cousin was also there. I immediately knew something was wrong, and when I asked if Russ was in the hospital, I heard words that I did not expect. “Russ died this morning in the hospital.”
Died. That’s all I heard. It turns out that Russ was bringing one more load of belongings to his new house from the old along US 221, a winding, hilly road, where he’d had an accident. He did not survive his injuries in the hospital. I was dumbstruck with the news, and it was if I had lost an older brother. Russ, that wonderful story-teller, expert in so many arcane things, always with a good laugh and terrible puns, one of the most knowledgeable photographers, and most generous with his time and knowledge, gone. A link to some of the greats of the SW photography scene and teacher of many, gone. A cat-lover who would drive his sick cat 40 miles at night to a vet and find that it still had another life left, gone. A humane person with an extraordinary sense of decency and honor, gone. My friend, gone.
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| Russ with his last cat, Jack. 2025. |
Due to Russ’ varied interests and long history, he had a large circle of friends. To be included that circle was an honor. I know that going out in the field with him made me a better photographer. His stories made me a better listener, and boy, did I ever learn new things from him. Just going out to have a meal with him at a Floyd restaurant was an experience in seeing how connected he was with the locals, and he always had a twinkle in his eye for the waitresses. I know he tipped well. I think he could charm a snake out of its skin.
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| Russ, in front of one of his favorite haunts. 2024. |
Russ was born in Owensboro, Kentucky on Oct. 11, 1949. He was an only child, and his stories of growing up there could be applied to many people in Appalachia. He was ambidextrous and could write with both hands at the same time until a Catholic nun broke his left hand. He worked in his grandfather’s meat-packing business and developed a work ethic that was pretty typical for the time and place. One story of his that stood out was the hauling of cowhides from the storage area of the slaughterhouse to waiting rail cars. I’m pretty sure that those work experiences encouraged him to gravitate towards studying hard in school. Those of you that knew Russ have probably heard the same stories and can corroborate what I have written.
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| Staying at the guest house below his studio was a joy. 2025. |
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| Russ probably owned more brass pictorialist lenses than anyone in the world. These are just a few. 2025 |
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| Goofing around in the studio. 2025. |
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| 2025 |
My favorite stories from Russ were those pertaining to his time in New Mexico in the 1970s, especially in Santa Fe. He was a young photographer, and was able to meet with some notable people whose names are familiar to many - Laura Gilpin, Georgia O’Keefe, Beaumont Newhall, Brett Weston, Alan Ross, Willard Van Dyke, Eliot Porter, and probably many others. Some of the lore about Ansel Adams is probably not publishable, but may be known by a few of those that knew him well. Russ’ stories about Beaumont Newhall are certainly more widely known. It was an eye-opening time for Russ, as he was being employed by the New Mexico Education Dept. as a statistician, and spending any free time photographing. I imagine being in that mix of artists and the SW scenery really set Russ’ ever-inquisitive mind soaring. It would just be a few years later that he would relocate to Texas and pursue a Master’s degree in Photohistory at UT Austin. One of his students at Austin has been one of my contacts, before I even knew about Russ - Liz Potter, whose photography in SW Texas is very inspiring.
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| Dinner with Russ was always entertaining. Carrying on a conversation and cooking simultaneously can be hazardous. 2024. |
Russ was proud of his Appalachian upbringing, as well as his Scottish heritage. He could be at ease in denim bib overalls, and I suspect wore a kilt well, too. His time in Scotland was very precious to him, and his resulting PhD dissertation on Pictorialism from St. Andrews University is a good source of information ( The Soft-focus Lens and Anglo-American Pictorialism, 2007) for anyone researching pictorialism. I am surprised that he never published it in book form.
Russ was able to move easily among different groups of people and because of his genuinely good demeanor, I can’t imagine anyone disliking him. He knew that wearing those bib overalls in the backroads of Floyd county made him look like he belonged there, and got a pass as just another old farmer with a camera out driving around. Had he engaged with anyone, Russ could quickly gauge his audience and if they were local, probably knew more about their relatives than they did. He enjoyed genealogical research, and one evening with his skills he told me a lot about my own ancestry.
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| Russ knew everyone in every dining spot in Floyd. 2025. |
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| Russ always had a camera on the dash. 2025. |
Russ was very active in the Floyd community, and especially with the Floyd Center for the Arts. For a number of years, his Appalachian Center for Photography was located there, and that is precisely how I became aware of him. I saw a blurb somewhere for the Appalachian Center for Photography, and I wondered who would have the audacity to have such a place in a town that I had never heard of. So, I think I must have emailed him, or he emailed me, I don’t recall the exact sequence, but my first visit to Russ’ place was in March 2024, and I stayed at the Pine Tavern Lodge at the E edge of town. By the end of my 3-day visit, we felt as if we had known each other for years. Strange how that can happen. Russ sent me a card after, and it started:
“My new, old friend,
How indeed, have we not met before? Explanation: self-preservation by The Universe. So much in common. It was truly wonderful to meet you. And even more, to share shooting time with you — The only way to know another visual artist. Thank you for the privilege. …
... Come back in the summer and see a different world. —Russ.”
I think Russ had it wrong. It was my privilege to shoot with him! Anyhow, if you had an interaction with Russ, it was always worthwhile. I don’t know if he learned much from me, but I certainly learned a lot from him.
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| Russ with an apple for Jenny. Feb. 2026. |
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| Russ, poring over our joint venture. May, 2026. |
Another mutual contact that I met in person because of Russ, is Eben Ostby of Glasgow, Va. Eben had collaborated with me on several zine projects, and I had known him via Flickr for a long time. The three of us went out shooting one afternoon, and it was a great deal of fun.
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| Russ, near Rocky Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway, March, 2024. |
And here is the second part of the story - Keeping the Faith. What I mean is that as a visual artist, to keep doing what I love, and to impart that knowledge that I have to others. It’s not necessary to be lecturing, or gatekeeping over others, but to be open to new ideas, and to pass along the joy of photography and of seeing the photographic potential of just about anything. Encouraging a younger generation to pursue photography as a means of self-expression and also as a communicative tool. To not worry about failing, but to use those mistakes as a learning experience and to grow from there. Keeping The Faith means going out and doing what I love, and not worrying about anyone else’s opinions. I photograph for myself, and if others enjoy seeing my work, it’s a bonus.
I’ll never be the Renaissance Man that Russell was, and I’ll never be the the authority on lenses. How that man had so many adventures and experiences in one life time is beyond me. But he lived that life honestly, with passion, with inquisitiveness, and with grace. I hope to do the same in my remaining years.
You can find Russ' obituary (written by him) here.
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| We had stopped along the road to photograph a little creek. 2025. |
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| The creek, 2025 |
Working with Russ on our book of Floyd County photographs was a lot of fun. He had well over a decade's worth of images, while I had only a half-dozen visits. I could not have done any of it without his taking me to all the places that he'd already explored. We wrangled over the text a bit, but he always had a good instinct for phrasing. I thought of the title, and he felt it was perfect for the area. I wanted his name to go first, but he wouldn't hear of it.
I think this might be the only publication with so many images from Russ, and I am very proud to have worked with him.
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| Russ had an extraordinary assemblage of cameras and lenses. Feb. 2025. |
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| These trees in front of the guest house were always a good subject. |
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| I can see why Russ enjoyed his farm. It was always photogenic. |
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| Along the Blue Ridge Parkway, March, 2026. |
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| Russ knew all the best places. I'll miss traveling the dirt roads with him. |