James Evangelista Portfolios

In the Loupe

Ghost Ranch

01/06/2026

The sandstone cliffs of Ghost Ranch rise like ancient, sun-baked monoliths, their massive faces catching the first pale lavender of dawn. Before the heat of the day settles over the valley, I walk among the broken talus at the foot of the ridges, where the air is still cool enough to hold the scent of damp piñon and bruised sage. In this early light, the world is hushed, waiting for the sun to strike the heights. I sat for hours watching, I found my eyes drifting from the canvas of the cliffs to the sky above them. Hawks and ravens rose on the invisible thermals, and occasionally a golden eagle appeared, high, solitary, moving with a fluid grace that made effort look like a forgotten language. They did not seem in a hurry to arrive anywhere. Watching them navigate the vast, empty air, these birds, in their quiet, instinctual mastery of the wind, had taught me more about this landscape than words ever could.

Before Entering

08/18/2025

In the subterranean stillness, a single human breath, briefly joining a place whose only enduring architects have been water, wind, and time. At the mouth of the sandstone canyon, the entrance is a sudden vertical fracture in the desert floor. Before we step inside, Vera pauses at the threshold. The old people, she tells us, never entered these shadows casually. They stopped here first to quiet the mind, preparing themselves to enter a place that required humility, so they might return to the sunlight in balance with the world. The Navajo call this place Tsé bighánílíní—the place where water runs through rocks. We leave the pale sun behind and descend into the earth. The walls rise more than a hundred feet above the dry wash, their sandstone sculpted by vanished torrents into flowing ribbons of amber, ochre, and deep violet. Every curve bears the memory of water. Every narrowing reminds us that absence can be a sculptor as patient as time.

Druid Peak

04/15/2025

For m every image begins in the landscape, not on a computer. When I photograph I am working deliberately with light, composition, and exposure to create the strongest possible image in the moment. Years of studying the Zone System continue to shape the way I see, guiding how I place tones and preserve detail. Processing is intentionally restrained. Lightroom is used to refine the photograph, not reinvent it, through careful adjustments to tone, contrast, and color. I don't composite images, replace skies, or rely on heavy manipulation. My goal is to reveal what was already there. Every print is produced in my studio using a color-calibrated workflow, giving me complete control over the final image from capture to print. Photography, for me, has always been about seeing the light, not creating it.

A different kind of Italy

01/15/2025

Pennsylvania Art of the State

08/15/2024

I am honored and amazed to share that out of almost 2000 submissions, my photograph, "Divine Ascent", has been awarded a Jury Top 3 at the Art of the State Awards. My photograph is on exhibit at The State Museum of Pennsylvania thru January.

San Geronimo Church at Taos Pueblo

05/15/2024

The Loss of an Icon

09/26/2023

The Unfinished Mountain Trail

06/18/2023

We set out on Tre Cime di Lavaredo

Annual Art of the State

04/16/2023

Annual "Art of the State" A feast for the eyes and the emotions; winners announced.

The Way of the Cross

08/18/2022

No Masks Required!

07/19/2021

No Masks Required!

Cappella di Santa Rita

03/27/2019

The Raven and The Ruins

01/18/2019

1/15/2025

We landed at the Venice airport, rented a car and drove north. The drive was pleasant enough but all of a sudden somewhere past Belluno there were mountains and houses clustered around farm lands. Men with scythes were cutting hay in the meadows, and churches with ancient spires led into dark forests. And the mountains, the great Alps, all climbing towards the skies.

In a wood-lined bar in the small town of Dobbiaco, the fellow next to me greeted me with ‘Guten Tag’ and ordered a strudel with his coffee. Both German and Italian are spoken here as well as Ladin the romance language of the Dolomites, the mother tongue for more than 20,000 people. The Ladin people in the Dolomite region distinguish themselves from their neighbors not only through their own language but also through a culture which has grown for centuries and has its roots in farming. The Ladins cherish and protect the strong and yet fragile mountain nature that surrounds them. Ladinia's architecture represents the harmonious bond between people and the countryside.

Towards evening we drove to San Pietro to dine at Pitzock, a restaurant owned by Ingrid and Oskar Messner, farmer, cheese-maker, gardener, storyteller and chef. This restaurant was one of the best dinners we ever had. From the polite and courteous waitress who took our order to the owner/chef who not only brought the food to our table he told us in detail what farm the food came from. Pitzock in the Funes region of Italy has set a high standard for what the neighborhood restaurant can be, with incredible lamb dishes and fish so flavorful I found myself eating much more slowly than usual to appreciate every bite. The commitment to their relationships with local farmers, the well-curated wine and beer list and the deserts to die for makes this the best dining experience in ten days of touring.

All the time I was here I could not take my eyes off of the Dolomites. They are among the most beautiful peaks in the world. Tre Cime di Lavaredo and the rest of the Sexten Dolomites, the Cristallo and Sassolungo group are among the most beautiful mountain peaks in the world. UNESCO has declared them a World Heritage Site. This is where we would spend the next ten days.

The next morning we drove to Santa Magdalena, a picturesque medieval church with the Dolomites towering above the surrounding valley. The whole thing was strangely familiar. I wondered where I had seen this before. And then I realized. These were the mountains of a storybook. This was a landscape where tales unfold.

The following morning after breakfast we drove to Lago Misurina and stopped in to see Giovanni Gianni owner of Lavaredo Sport Misurina. Born in South Tyrol, he is a climber with an astonishing list of achievements, including climbing on four continents including the summit at Kilimanjaro, the fourth highest of the seven summits. After some wonderful conversation and more coffee we hiked to the nearby Lake for some photography. It’s impossible to take a bad photograph at Lago Misurino.

Starting out in the evening of our fourth day we went to Lago di Braies and the whole area has turned lavishly beautiful. The autumn sun lit the mountain range and the forest below with an impossible, mythic radiance and transformed the back roads into light-muddled paths leading toward the lake.

Afterwards we returned to the peace and the stillness of the forest where you can pause and listen to wind and silence.

Finally It's time to hike Tres Cimi! We follow the hairpin bends up on the mountain, leave the car in the parking lot and begin our hike around the peaks. There are people on the trail already, but fortunately the further (and higher) we go the crowd soon begins to thin out.
We pass Refugio Lavaredo on our way and soon reach Forcella di Lavaredo, a ridge overlooking The Three Peaks from the side. The view is absolutely incredible!

Thinking back on our trip here the phrase “road less traveled” has taken on a metaphorical meaning. Here, the road less traveled offers a more powerful and meaningful experience.

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