November is the right month for cows. The light is low and lateral, the grass is still green but beginning to give up. Everything is patient. Nothing is performing.
I had been invited to photograph a small farm for a few days and ended up staying a week. I shot four rolls. All Kodak Gold — the only film that seems to understand that kind of warmth, that particular shade of mud and hay.
A curious white cow, November 2025
Cows are, I discovered, excellent photographic subjects. They don't perform. They don't care about the camera. They look at you with a sort of bored sovereignty — as if you are the one who needs explaining, not them. This one held my gaze for a full minute before deciding I wasn't worth the attention.
Four frames from a November afternoon
The light is low and lateral. Everything is patient. Nothing is performing.
Cow hooves on wet ground
I took this one lying on the ground, which made the farmer laugh. There is something about hooves in mud that seemed important to document — the weight of it, the evidence of presence. These animals have been walking this field for decades. The ground remembers.
A path between fields, sunlight through the leaves
