Colorado II by David Muench and Ann Zwinger.

BIBLIOGRAPHIC DETAILS:
* 10/1/1987; PUBLISHER: Graphic Arts Center Publishing Company; ISBN: 0932575315 [9780932575319]; PAGES: 160; Unabridged.)

Digital: No.

Audiobook: No.

Film or tv: No.

SERIES:
No

MAJOR CHARACTERS:
N/A

SUMMARY/ EVALUATION:
How I picked it: This book waved at me from a shelf in the Friends of the Library area of the Huntington Beach Public Library. I’d been hankering to read about Colorado, after such a hot and humid California summer, and was thrilled when I spied this --all the more thrilled to see David Muench in bold letters beneath the title!

What it’s about: Colorado’s landscape.

What I thought: David Muench is an excellent photographer! I can’t recall when I first encountered his images—Arizona Highways back in the '70's? How appropriate that he is from Santa Barbara, where I attended photography school (Brooks Institute of Photographic Arts and Sciences). I don’t think he was still there by the time I got there though--and I don't mean to imply he was ever at Brooks Institute. I think he learned photography elsewhere.
The text, by Ann Zwinger, is equally enthralling. She anthropomorphizes delightfully and has an extremely rich vocabulary.

AUTHOR:
David Muench:
From Wikipedia: “Muench was born on June 25, 1936 in Santa Barbara, California. A freelance photographer since the 1950s, his formal schooling includes the Rochester Institute of Technology, Rochester, New York, The University of California at Santa Barbara and the Art Center School of Design, Los Angeles.[2]
His first Arizona Highways cover was published in January 1955 at the age of 18,[3] and he has continued to work with the magazine since then.[4] In December 2015, to celebrate seven decades of collaboration, Arizona Highways dedicated an entire issue of the magazine to Muench, the first time they had done so for a single person.[5]
At the recommendation of Ansel Adams, more than 200 images by Muench are archived in the collection of the Center for Creative Photography.[6] Although he has done a few exhibits,[7] Muench chose the coffee table book as the main vehicle for his photography. He is the author of more than 60 books.[8][9]
In 1975, Muench was commissioned by the National Park Service to photograph 33 large murals on the Lewis and Clark Expedition for the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial
in St. Louis, Missouri, including 350 smaller photographs to accompany the murals.[10] In 2000, Muench received the National Parks Conservation Association's Robin W. Winks Award for Enhancing Public Understanding of National Parks.[11]”

Ann Zwinger:
From Wikipedia: “Ann Haymond Zwinger was born March 12, 1925, in Muncie, Indiana, the daughter of William and Ann Haymond. While young, she lived along the White River. She studied art history and was awarded two degrees, an A.B. in Arts in 1946 by Wellesley College with the designation "Wellesley College Scholar," now considered roughly equivalent to "cum laude," and an A.M. in Fine Arts by Indiana University in 1950. She married Herman H. Zwinger, a pilot, in 1952.[1][2]
In 1960, Zwinger moved to Colorado Springs with her husband and began to study Western ecology. In 1970, her first book was published, Beyond the Aspen Grove. She and co-author Beatrice Willard were finalists for the 1973 National Book Award in science for Land Above the Trees. Run, River, Run was another distinguished book published in 1975. It received glowing reviews by The New York Times, the John Burroughs Memorial Association Gold Medal for a distinguished contribution in natural history,[3][4] and the Friends of American Writers Award for non-fiction.[citation needed] Her more than 20 books on natural history often featured her own illustrations.[5]
She taught Southwest Studies and English at Colorado College.[1][2]
Zwinger died in Portland, Oregon on August 30, 2014.[1][2]”

NARRATOR:
N/A

GENRE:
Coffee table art

LOCATIONS:
Colorado State

TIME FRAME:
1980’s

SUBJECTS:
Colorado landscapes and seasons


SAMPLE QUOTATION:
“Evening walking in the San Juaquin Mountains, we have walked for hours. Now we rest, looking down into the valley from where we have come. Mists rise from the ground, drifting in from the east, leaning to the southeast, curling in from the west, a ballet line that swirls over the valley floor, splits, gathers again, and flounces center stage front. Every time the line splits again, it meets in upward helices. The diaphanous traces form, seethe, oppose, coalesce, in endless motion. As the evening darkens, mists settle, drift downward like motes of dust, wraiths of summer, losing definition in the dusk.
I lean back against my propped up backpack, food untouched in my lap. The clouds are so spectacular, so constantly changing that I can’t be bothered to eat. They form a bank with sweeping upward lines, the top cream and apricot, crowned with one great dome, lit from within, a shape that reminds me of the Greek omphalos at Delphi, the navel of the world. One cloud levels off at the top into a great anvil. Along the rising column, whisps of moisture tat lacey edges.”

RATING:
5 stars.

STARTED READING – FINISHED READING
8-22-2022 to 8-29-2022 ( )