Every fleeting encounter holds the weight of an entire universe. For artist Carol E. Richards, these ephemeral moments are more than aesthetic—they are emotional, philosophical, and deeply human. In her latest body of work, Dreams of Birds, Richards captures the poetic beauty of what is here one moment and vanished the next. Her lens—literally and metaphorically—seeks not permanence but passage. Through an elegantly restrained method using a viewing scope, Richards creates haunting diptych images that highlight birds in serene stillness paired with the space they leave behind.
Her work isn’t about grand spectacles. It’s about whisper-soft departures, quiet interludes, and the compelling visual echo of solitude. In documenting these brief episodes, Richards elevates bird photography into a meditative study of absence, reflection, and emotional resonance.
The Space Between: Stories Found in Stillness
What if the essence of an experience is revealed not in its peak, but in its absence? This question forms the heartbeat of Carol E. Richards’ contemplative body of work, Dreams of Birds. In this quietly evocative collection, Richards does something few artists dare: she turns the camera not only toward the subject but toward the vacuum left behind. The result is a deeply introspective and emotionally nuanced series of diptychs, pairing birds in still repose with the tender hush of the perches they’ve just abandoned.
This visual pairing becomes a meditative inquiry into what remains after something beautiful disappears. Each image stands alone, delicate and composed, but together they form a silent dialogue—one frame offering the shape of presence, the other articulating the silence that follows. In doing so, Richards offers not just portraits of birds, but intimate reflections on transience, memory, and the invisible currents of longing that tether us to our own pasts.
Each empty branch, captured with the same meticulous care as its feathered counterpart, operates on a symbolic level. These barren perches become metaphors for those overlooked emotional spaces—where love once landed, where voices once lingered, where life pulsed briefly and then moved on. What might at first appear as still life becomes charged with emotional undercurrent. The absent bird haunts the frame, not as a ghost but as a suggestion—a whisper of life that teaches us the importance of noticing what is gone as much as what is here.
The Elegance of Absence: A New Lens on Loss and Memory
In the cultural landscape of art, absence is often underplayed or viewed as merely an aesthetic device. But in Dreams of Birds, Carol E. Richards reclaims absence as presence. Her bird diptychs serve not only as natural studies but as emotional landscapes, landscapes of departure and return, of vanishing and memory. They offer no easy answers or narratives. Instead, they linger, like echoes in a quiet room.
There’s a stillness in Richards’ work that refuses spectacle. Her birds are not caught mid-flight, wings aloft in triumphant arcs. They are contemplative, settled, sometimes watchful. Their stillness is mirrored—and amplified—by the vacated spaces that follow. These are not afterthoughts or empty frames. They are invitations for reflection. They ask the viewer to consider what was just there and what now takes its place. And in doing so, they reveal the visual poetics of loss: not as devastation, but as quiet transformation.
This quality is further enhanced by Richards’ use of a viewing scope. Her method creates a softened, tunneled visual field, emphasizing both the intimacy and distance inherent in the viewing experience. The blurred peripheries of the images suggest the limitations of our perception—how we never quite see the whole, how life slips into and out of focus. These technical constraints become expressive tools, allowing Richards to underline the emotional resonance of each scene.
And it is in this limitation—this refusal to sharpen every corner, to pin the moment with exactitude—that her work gains its emotive power. The slight blur, the faint halo of light around a feather or a branch, feels like memory itself—half-grasped, partially present, infinitely elusive.
Nature as Witness: Translating Emotional Truth Through the Familiar
Carol E. Richards doesn’t present birds as exotic specimens or rare marvels. She presents them as they are—common, wild, and beautiful in their ordinariness. Sparrows, cardinals, jays, and finches appear throughout Dreams of Birds not as trophies of the lens but as actors in a visual poem. Their identities matter less than their gestures, their impermanence, their delicate rootedness in a single second of stillness.
Yet what is truly captivating is not just the presence of these birds, but their rapid withdrawal—the abruptness with which they take leave. The second frame, always arriving like a soft breath after the first, presents a void charged with emotion. A feather caught in the wind, a shadow left behind, the shape of the branch unchanged but haunted by the memory of a weight. This simple yet profound act of documenting the space where the bird once was transforms the entire composition into a dialogue about being and leaving.
Richards’ artistic strength lies in her ability to universalize this encounter. While the subject may be birds, the emotional terrain is human. The empty branches reflect broader human experiences—loss, solitude, memory, impermanence. They call upon the viewer to revisit their own moments of sudden stillness: a place once filled with laughter now silent, a glance exchanged then lost, a home left behind. The environment in her images does not serve as a passive background; it becomes a participant, a witness, and sometimes a silent narrator of the unfolding story.
There’s an almost ritualistic quality to the sequencing of the diptychs. Each pairing feels deliberate, not just in visual balance but in emotional weight. Richards resists the temptation to explain or direct the viewer. Instead, she allows the images to breathe, to hold ambiguity, and to invite a private emotional response. It is this generosity—this refusal to dictate meaning—that makes the work resonate so deeply.
Transience as Testimony: A Visual Ethos of Letting Go
Dreams of Birds stands as a powerful meditation on the philosophy of letting go. Carol E. Richards has not merely captured birds in transition; she has distilled the essence of fleeting time, creating a body of work that resonates with the melancholic beauty of passing moments. Each diptych becomes a quiet testament to the inevitability of change, offering the viewer a rare opportunity to sit with impermanence rather than resist it.
Rather than frame the disappearance as loss, Richards frames it as continuation—a moment absorbed back into the flow of time. There is no grief here, only quiet acknowledgment. The kind of soft sorrow that deepens one’s appreciation for what was. It is the kind of sorrow that teaches, not wounds. A whisper reminding us that presence and absence are not opposites, but part of the same breath.
The success of Dreams of Birds lies in its subtlety. It doesn’t shout its meaning; it suggests it. The viewer is given room to feel, to question, and to find personal meaning in each still perch, each vanished shadow. This emotional spaciousness is what elevates Richards’ work beyond natural observation into the realm of profound introspection.
As our lives become increasingly digitized, accelerated, and cluttered with visual noise, Richards’ work reminds us of the power of restraint. Of what happens when we turn our attention to the quiet things. The perches, the pauses, the partings. These are the spaces where memory grows, where presence lingers even after the subject has flown.
Dreams of Birds: A Limited-Edition Masterwork
In an era of fleeting digital images and endlessly scrolling content, Dreams of Birds by Carol E. Richards offers something profoundly grounding—a tangible, finely crafted experience in the form of a limited-edition monograph. Published by the revered Nazraeli Press, this exquisite volume is not only a visual journey but a physical one. It invites the viewer to slow down, to touch, to turn pages thoughtfully. The book’s 47 photographs are printed with impeccable fidelity on matte art paper, chosen for its soft tactility and subtle ability to absorb light. Each image rests quietly in its space, bound within cloth-over-board covers that evoke the timelessness of the content within.
Strictly limited to just 750 copies, Dreams of Birds is more than a collectible; it is a meditation in book form. Each diptych—a bird perched in reflective pause followed by the space it leaves behind—offers a conversation between stillness and absence. Richards' decision to present these sequences in print underscores her belief in the enduring emotional power of physical media. The book becomes a vessel, not only for the images but for the emotional textures they carry: loss, memory, presence, and release.
This new work builds gently yet significantly on Richards’ previous volume, Birds Have Wings, released in 2013. While that earlier series introduced her fascination with avian subjects and their subtle expressions of freedom, Dreams of Birds reaches deeper. It does not just capture birds—it honors the quiet resonance of their vanishing. Where most wildlife monographs emphasize identification, movement, or behavioral detail, Richards’ work steps into the metaphysical. The images do not document. They evoke. They suggest that the significance of a moment may lie not in what is seen but in what is felt when it is gone.
Evoking Impermanence Through the Subtleties of Nature
Carol E. Richards approaches impermanence not as a theme to be explored but as a truth to be embodied. Her work in Dreams of Birds is built on the understanding that nature is constantly in flux, and that emotional resonance is often strongest in what escapes our grasp. This is not work driven by grandeur or drama—it is grounded in nuance, in small gestures, in the hush of departure.
The artist’s process is as minimalist as it is mindful. Using a simple viewing scope paired with a digital camera, she embraces a method that limits precision while expanding emotional depth. Richards does not attempt to control every variable. Instead, she positions herself as a participant in the environment, reliant on light, time, and the unpredictable grace of winged creatures. This acceptance of the uncontrollable reflects the very philosophy her images convey: that life cannot be paused or perfected, only observed and remembered.
Her visual language is quiet and patient. The birds she photographs are not rare species or posed in dramatic flight—they are ordinary visitors, caught in transient moments. Their ordinary presence is what gives the work its emotional gravity. These birds, often captured in stillness, seem to invite the viewer into their brief world. And then, as quickly as they arrived, they vanish. The accompanying image—of the same branch now empty—becomes not a secondary frame but an emotional counterpoint. What remains is not simply the place where a bird once sat; it is the atmosphere of absence, the gentle weight of memory settling into the frame.
This approach to visual storytelling transforms the book into a philosophical artifact. Each diptych becomes a meditation on what it means to notice, to let go, and to carry the residue of fleeting beauty. The images do not just illustrate impermanence—they are shaped by it, informed by its quiet authority.
From Vision to Volume: The Intention Behind the Collection
The creation of Dreams of Birds was not a linear journey but a deeply personal exploration that unfolded over time. Richards, whose experience spans years in visual media, allowed this work to evolve organically. The slow pace of its creation—interrupted by travel, seasons, and the rhythm of life—mirrors the core message of the book itself. Nothing was rushed; everything was allowed to emerge on its own terms.
Nazraeli Press, known for its commitment to distinctive fine art publications, proved to be the ideal partner. Their respect for the tactile and contemplative nature of printed art aligned perfectly with Richards’ vision. The collaboration resulted in a book that not only showcases her images but enhances them. The materials, layout, and design all serve the emotional cadence of the work. Even the sequencing of the diptychs was handled with precision and care, allowing the viewer to move through the book as though listening to a series of whispered verses.
In many ways, the format becomes a mirror for the subject. Just as the birds appear and disappear, the turning of each page holds the potential for transformation. The viewer is never told what to feel, but is gently guided into a reflective state. Richards has created not just a series of images but a ritual of observation, where presence and absence trade places and meaning accumulates in the stillness between.
What elevates this work is the rare humility of its voice. There is no spectacle here, no push for attention. Instead, Dreams of Birds offers a rare kind of generosity—a visual space in which to pause, to notice, and to feel without rush or conclusion.
Moments in Motion: An Intimate Relationship with Loss and Change
Carol E. Richards has described her creative impulse as being “tied to the inevitability of loss,” and this sensibility infuses every page of Dreams of Birds. The work is less about birds and more about what their movements teach us about time, fragility, and the quiet surprise of impermanence. A perched bird preparing to fly is, for Richards, a metaphor for all that escapes definition—love, memory, even identity. It is here for a moment, then gone, leaving behind only the shape of where it once was.
But this is not a lament. Rather than treat impermanence as tragedy, Richards explores it as poetry. She frames the fading of a presence as something worthy of reverence. The diptychs do not mourn what has gone—they celebrate the miracle that it was ever there at all. This attitude is what gives the work its healing quality. There is no bitterness, only awareness. No finality, only rhythm.
This philosophy is powerfully embedded in the visual structure of the book. Each pair of images reflects a cycle: appearance, disappearance; arrival, departure; fullness, emptiness. It’s a rhythm familiar to anyone who has watched a shadow grow long or heard a melody fade. Through her gentle observations, Richards reminds us that impermanence is not a flaw in the system—it is the system. And it holds beauty all its own.
Dreams of Birds is not a document of nature, nor a technical achievement. It is a visual hymn to letting go. It does not ask the viewer to identify the bird or name the species. It asks something deeper: to feel the shift in energy between presence and absence. To sit with the silence that follows a moment’s end. To understand that in the act of vanishing, something can still be deeply seen.
In honoring what is no longer there, Carol E. Richards has created a masterwork that resonates far beyond its pages—a testament to the rare, tender power of noticing what flies away.
Uncomplicated Tools, Profound Effects
In a creative world increasingly fascinated with technical perfection, gear upgrades, and precision-focused aesthetics, Carol E. Richards has chosen a path of simplicity, restraint, and emotional honesty. Her series Dreams of Birds does not depend on megapixels or multi-lens arrays; it is grounded in a very different kind of vision—one that values imperfection, unpredictability, and the beauty of things not entirely within the artist’s control.
Richards’ primary tool is a modest viewing scope, the kind used by birdwatchers in quiet woods and open fields. She mounts her camera directly to this scope, allowing her to observe without disrupting. The setup is intentionally non-intrusive, bordering on primitive in an age of high-resolution drones and 3D mapping. And yet, this very limitation offers a poetic advantage—it demands patience, humility, and intuition. It allows Richards not to dominate a scene but to participate in it quietly.
This embrace of minimalism is no accident. It is a visual philosophy, perfectly aligned with her deeper exploration of ephemerality and the layered complexity of absence. Richards is not after control; she is after presence. And by releasing control, she invites spontaneity—into the frame, into the moment, and into the emotional resonance of each image.
The Beauty of Constraint: Embracing Imperfection as Truth
“There’s something beautifully unreliable about my process,” Richards has said. And this sentiment lies at the heart of her aesthetic. Each photograph in Dreams of Birds carries within it the delicate fingerprints of impermanence—not just thematically, but structurally. The limitations of her equipment mean that not every image will be sharp, not every bird will cooperate, not every branch will align. Yet what she loses in precision, she gains in sincerity.
This form of artistic vulnerability is powerful. It mirrors the emotional unpredictability of life itself. Memories are not neatly composed—they arrive out of order, blurred at the edges, sometimes missing the very subject we yearned to capture. Richards’ method replicates this sensation visually. The slight softening at the periphery of her scope becomes a metaphor for fading recollections, for details slipping into obscurity. These are not digital distortions—they are emotional textures.
The scope, in its optical limitations, also introduces a sense of intimacy. We are not looking at birds through the perfected lens of a studio shoot; we are peering into a quiet, unguarded moment. We are, in essence, witnessing. And in that act of witnessing—raw, unscripted, slightly askew—Richards finds the soul of her work.
There is also something almost sacred in her insistence on waiting. The birds are not posed; they are present. And then they are gone. She captures them not with speed, but with stillness. Not with calculation, but with quiet availability. This process transforms each image from a picture into a gesture—an offering of attention, a fragment of reverence.
Scope and Scene: The Lens as a Channel, Not a Barrier
What Richards achieves through her basic setup is more than a workaround—it is an ethical choice. The scope doesn’t just magnify birds; it mediates the relationship between artist and subject. It creates a necessary distance, which paradoxically fosters intimacy. The result is an image that feels unintrusive yet deeply personal, as if we’ve stumbled upon a moment we were never meant to see—and yet are gently allowed to experience.
This interplay of distance and closeness is a defining feature of Dreams of Birds. It shapes the entire emotional architecture of the work. The viewer is always a little removed from the subject, but never disengaged. The softness around the edges, the quiet fall-off of light, the elliptical focus—all these qualities invite a different kind of seeing. Not the aggressive gaze of documentation, but the patient, almost meditative act of observation.
Even more significantly, the scope creates a natural vignette, a circle within which the image is contained. This visual boundary intensifies the viewer’s focus while also evoking the idea of memory—a portal, a flash, a moment lifted out of time. It feels cinematic in its simplicity, like the lingering afterimage of a dream upon waking.
By refusing the perfection of conventional optics, Richards underscores the emotional and existential imperfections of her subject. Birds are transient creatures. Their lives intersect with ours only briefly. Their movements, no matter how graceful, are unpredictable. The scope, with its humble optics and inherent limitations, becomes not a hindrance but an ally. It mimics the uncertainty of life itself—our inability to hold onto what is beautiful, our aching desire to try.
A Deliberate Vision: Honoring the Ordinary, Elevating the Fleeting
The ethos behind Richards’ creative process transcends technical choices. It’s not just about simplicity—it’s about how that simplicity allows space for nuance. She does not chase the exotic. She does not need rare birds or dramatic skies. She looks at what is already there: a finch resting on a crooked branch, a crow shifting on a fence post, a sparrow startled into flight. These are the common moments that most would overlook, and that is precisely what gives them power.
Richards' deliberate lack of artifice allows her to create a space in which emotion takes precedence over spectacle. Her bird diptychs are not meant to dazzle. They are meant to stir, to remind us that meaning does not reside in elaboration but in clarity of attention. In the aftermath of each captured moment—the vacant perch, the soft ripple of departure—Richards invites us into the deeper terrain of what it means to witness without interfering, to remember without possessing.
Each diptych in Dreams of Birds is a story without beginning or end. The tools used to make them do not strive for perfection; they allow space for authenticity. The subtle grain, the feather blurred by sudden flight, the slight warp of distant light—all of these irregularities bring the image to life. They make the scene feel real, lived-in, not curated.
There’s something profound in choosing not to perfect an image, but to let it breathe. Richards’ refusal to overly refine or retouch her work is a visual commitment to truth—the kind of truth that understands life is fleeting, that beauty lies in passage, that the most honest moments are often the ones we almost missed.
In a time when clarity and control are prized above all, Dreams of Birds offers a radical and refreshing alternative. It celebrates the flawed, the fading, the fragmentary. And in doing so, it reminds us that art’s greatest gift is not to preserve, but to reveal.
Diptychs: A Dialogue Between Presence and Departure
Carol E. Richards has cultivated a visual language uniquely her own—rooted in transience, composed through restraint, and articulated in silence as much as in form. In Dreams of Birds, her latest collection of diptych images, the artist presents not just a bird in repose, but the spectral impression of its exit. These aren’t just sequential images—they are visual counterparts in conversation with one another, invoking the universal rhythm of arrival and disappearance.
The structure of these diptychs emerged not from planning but from a deep engagement with environment and timing. Richards did not set out to make pairs. Instead, the concept unfolded organically, shaped by the natural movements of her subjects and her attentive observation. She would photograph a bird resting on a perch and, moments after it took flight, capture the same space—now conspicuously empty. It was in reviewing these “after” images that Richards recognized a new kind of visual weight, something both emotionally potent and aesthetically compelling. The space left behind was not vacant. It was saturated with meaning.
These images speak to each other. The bird is the presence, vivid and poised; the branch becomes the echo, haunted by what was just there. Together, they form a nuanced meditation on loss, memory, and the residual energy of fleeting encounters. This is not a simple before-and-after structure. It is a study in contrast, in emotion, and in the breath between moments.
The Liminal Space: Where Absence Gains Shape
The genius of Richards’ diptych series lies in her ability to render the invisible visible. In Dreams of Birds, the spaces left behind by flight are not voids but vessels. The second panel of each diptych, devoid of the bird, pulses with presence in a different way—it holds silence, expectation, residue. These empty frames do not feel abandoned. Instead, they seem to contain the shape of something no longer there, like a scent that lingers after someone leaves a room.
Richards constructs a new kind of portraiture through this approach. The second image is not a secondary frame or a mere afterthought. It carries its own narrative agency. If the first image says “look,” the second whispers “remember.” And within that whisper, viewers discover their own emotional resonance—losses large and small, transitions, separations, the feeling of something precious slipping quietly out of reach.
This resonance is universal. Everyone has stood before a once-familiar place and felt its difference. A room after someone departs, a garden in the days after bloom, the still air that follows music. Richards’ work visually translates these ineffable moments into compositions of great subtlety. The empty perch is no longer just a branch—it becomes a metaphor for what once was and can no longer be reclaimed.
This approach transforms the concept of the diptych itself. No longer a simple juxtaposition, it becomes a continuum of time and feeling. The bird, poised and watchful, reminds us of the present. The empty branch, softly focused and subdued, carries us into the past. Together, they offer an emotional timeline, held delicately within the frame.
Emotive Pairing: The Quiet Logic of Visual Poetry
Carol E. Richards doesn’t over-construct her images. Her process is intuitive, but not accidental. The act of pairing a presence with an absence is one of balance, rhythm, and emotional attunement. There is a subtle choreography in how the two frames interact—how light, depth, and form connect or contrast between them. In some pairings, the emptiness is brighter than the bird image; in others, shadow deepens after the departure, as if the space has dimmed with loss.
These variations are intentional in effect, though not forced in execution. Richards trusts her visual instincts, allowing the environment to shape the story. This approach respects the integrity of the scene while also heightening its emotional reach. The mystery of each diptych is not just in what is shown, but in what is left open. There is no imposed narrative, no demand for interpretation—only the gentle suggestion of meaning.
What makes the pairings so impactful is their refusal to resolve. The images resist closure. There is no clear beginning or ending, only the soft motion between presence and departure. This ambiguity allows viewers to find their own entry point into the work. Some may see reflection; others, grief; others still, a celebration of movement. The diptych becomes a mirror for the viewer’s inner state.
And that is the great strength of this body of work: its capacity to evoke without insisting. Richards has crafted a space where personal memory and shared emotion can intersect. Her diptychs don’t tell a story; they invite one.
Echoes of Flight: Impermanence as Emotional Architecture
At the heart of Dreams of Birds is a deep reverence for what is temporary. Carol E. Richards doesn’t chase permanence; she honors transition. Her diptych format becomes a structure for articulating impermanence—not as tragedy, but as the natural ebb of life. The bird arrives, rests, and departs. And in its absence, a new presence arises—the presence of silence, of waiting, of quiet remembrance.
This duality is not melancholy. It is profound. It reflects the subtle truth that all beauty contains within it the seed of its own vanishing. Richards leans into this truth with grace. Her bird diptych series reveals how the act of looking can be a ritual of letting go. Each image pair is a visual sigh—a gesture of gratitude for what was and a calm acceptance of what now is.
Technically, her use of a viewing scope enhances this ethos. The narrow field of vision, the soft periphery, and the gentle fall-off of light all contribute to a dreamlike atmosphere. The images feel like glimpses—half-remembered and wholly felt. This aesthetic is not nostalgic; it is tender, present, aware.
As a whole, Dreams of Birds offers more than imagery. It offers an invitation. To notice the fleeting. To listen to what follows silence. To see absence not as emptiness but as another kind of presence. The diptych, in Richards’ hands, becomes more than a form. It becomes a philosophy—one that elevates stillness to significance and makes the invisible tangible.
Through these gentle pairings, Carol E. Richards has crafted a visual symphony of presence and absence, held together by trust in the moment and a deep understanding of the emotional power of restraint. The dialogue between each bird and its vacant perch is not just a poetic structure—it is a reminder that every encounter, no matter how brief, leaves a trace. And sometimes, it is in that trace that we feel the most.
Introspection in the Frame: Personal Experience and Emotional Echo
For Richards, the emotional terrain explored in her work is not theoretical. It’s rooted in lived experience.
“I crave solitude. I need it. But growing up, there was more isolation than there should have been. That kind of aloneness leaves a mark. It becomes a lens of its own. I think my work gravitates toward that quiet space between comfort and loneliness. It’s not always sad—but it’s rarely loud.”
There’s a kind of empathetic transparency in her images, as though they were made not to exhibit but to share. The quiet moments, the softened light, the feather lingering in frame—all of it seems to say: “You’ve felt this, too.”
From Industry to Intuition: A Shift in Creative Focus
Before fully embracing fine art, Richards worked in commercial image-making and television production. These early roles, though technically demanding, served as unexpected training grounds for a more intuitive, emotion-led practice.
“I saw that you don’t need a massive studio or the latest gear. You just need to begin. You need to look. And you need to keep looking—not just at other photographers, but at art, design, everything visual. See how spaces breathe. See what emptiness does.”
Her transition from the commercial world to deeply personal projects like Dreams of Birds wasn’t abrupt—it was evolutionary. And now, having partnered with Nazraeli Press, she has found a publisher that honors the depth and quiet integrity of her work.
Places That Shape the Vision
Geography, for Richards, is more than location—it’s stimulus. The varied environments where she’s lived and worked have each left their imprint on her creative approach.
“Whether I’m in Los Angeles, Taos, or along the Oregon coast, each place renews something in me. Even Kansas City, where I didn’t expect to find much inspiration—winter arrived, and there were cardinals. That was enough to spark a whole new line of thought. Every place gives something if you pay attention.”
The landscapes in her images may be minimal, often reduced to a branch or shadow, but the sense of place remains. These are not generic backdrops. They are specific, seen, and felt.
Artistic Continuity and Expansion
Though Birds Have Wings, published in 2013, marked a significant milestone in her artistic journey, Richards sees Dreams of Birds as a natural continuation.
“My methods haven’t changed drastically—I still use scopes, still search for those evanescent moments. But I’ve become more attuned to the empty frames. And with better editing skills, I can now bring more clarity to the emotions I want the images to hold.”
This evolving focus on “emptiness as image” deepens her artistic language without altering its essence. Her style remains restrained, contemplative, and quietly luminous.
The Language of Absence
Absence, for many, is merely a void. But in Richards’ work, it is a subject in itself—rich, textured, and evocative.
“I’ve always been drawn to mystery. To images that hint instead of tell. Lately, I’ve been experimenting with greenhouse glass as a filter. It distorts, softens, makes things feel like memory. I don’t want clarity—I want resonance. I want someone to look and think, ‘I’ve never seen this before, but somehow I know it.’”
That quote by Diane Arbus continues to shape her approach: “It’s what I’ve never seen before that I recognize.” It encapsulates the surreal familiarity of her best work, the way her images manage to feel both new and remembered.
In Dreams of Birds, Richards has created something rare—a photographic project that transcends documentation to become meditation. It asks not just to be viewed, but to be felt.
Final Reflections:
Carol E. Richards’ Dreams of Birds is not simply a book of bird photographs—it is a visual elegy, a contemplative study of moments that slip through our grasp. It does not rely on spectacle or rarity, but rather leans into the everyday miracle of what is seen and then no longer seen. It reminds us that beauty often lies not in what is held onto, but in what cannot be.
Each diptych in this collection is a quiet conversation between presence and absence. The birds she photographs are ordinary—sparrows, finches, juncos—yet through Richards’ lens, they become vessels of meaning. Their sudden vanishing is not just physical, it is metaphoric: a representation of how all things, however dear or fleeting, eventually pass. The empty branches are not afterthoughts; they are the quiet climax of a story about departure, loss, and the spaces that memory occupies.
Richards’ artistic voice is rooted in restraint. Her work is meditative, subtle, and intentionally minimal. It resists the noise of modern photography trends and embraces a slower, quieter rhythm. There is no striving for perfection or control. In fact, it is the relinquishing of control—embracing the unpredictability of nature, the whims of birds, the challenges of shooting through a scope—that makes her work so deeply human and relatable.
What sets Dreams of Birds apart is its emotional texture. It evokes solitude without despair, invites introspection without insisting on answers. The images act as mirrors—reflecting not just birds and branches, but the viewer’s own experiences of presence, absence, and longing. It is art that lingers long after the page is turned.
In a world that often glorifies permanence, achievement, and accumulation, Carol E. Richards offers a gentle counterpoint. Her work asks us to find meaning in what doesn’t last, in what leaves quietly, and in what cannot be reclaimed. Dreams of Birds is ultimately a tender tribute to transience—a photographic meditation that invites us to pause, to look, and to feel the hush between wingbeats.
