Mount St. Helens 52_056
Mount St. Helens 02_004
Mount St. Helens 36_003
Mount St. Helens 29_005
Mount St. Helens 36_009
Mount St. Helens 22_001
Mount St. Helens 28_001
Mount St. Helens 23_005
Mount St. Helens 39_002
Mount St. Helens 43_016
Mount St. Helens 44_019
Mount St. Helens 41_010
Mount St. Helens 31_008
Mount St. Helens 01_009
Mount St. Helens 01_008
Mount St. Helens 22_007
Mount St. Helens 20_002
Mount St. Helens 27_001
Mount St. Helens 36_004

Mount St. Helens 52_056

Mount St. Helens 02_004

Mount St. Helens 36_003

Mount St. Helens 29_005

Mount St. Helens 36_009

Mount St. Helens 22_001

Mount St. Helens 28_001

Mount St. Helens 23_005

Mount St. Helens 39_002

Mount St. Helens 43_016

Mount St. Helens 44_019

Mount St. Helens 41_010

Mount St. Helens 31_008

Mount St. Helens 01_009

Mount St. Helens 01_008

Mount St. Helens 22_007

Mount St. Helens 20_002

Mount St. Helens 27_001

Mount St. Helens 36_004

In 1983, Maisel was in the midst of his studies towards a degree in architecture, and was also working closely with his photography professor, Emmet Gowin. Gowin invited Maisel to accompany him on a photographic expedition to the volcano Mount St. Helens, which had erupted several years earlier.

At Mount St. Helens, Maisel was captivated not only by the natural disaster of the volcano, which released energy equivalent to 27,000 times the atomic blast over Hiroshima, but also by the equally potent and cataclysmic energy with which the logging industry was clear-cutting the area and transforming the landscape. He found the biblical scale of this man-made systematic industrialization chilling, especially when seen from the air.

At Mount St. Helens, Maisel first encountered the apocalyptic sublime – a sense of the landscape as a site of earth-shattering events, both literally and metaphorically – and this experience set the course for much of his future work.