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Grant Scully Dies at 67. Many Mourning A Man They Felt Like They Knew
By Tina Traster
An antlered deer in the snowy woods. A snowy owl perched on a rock aside the river. Candy-colored sunsets.
We waited for each new Facebook image because the photographer captured the Hudson Valley’s beauty and natural essence with both an accessible and ethereal feeling. They speak to what we can all agree is lovely and heartfelt and incontrovertibly timeless at a time when so much of our time is marked by tension and division.
These photographs are a regular and constant gift we almost come to expect from a prolific photographer. We feel as though we know this man with the camera – we imagine him on a bluff, maybe with a tripod or a second camera slung around his neck, perched and waiting for the sun to lift above the horizon. Over time, our imagination fills in the spaces of what we don’t know, trying to glean who this man is, where his next image might be made, how disciplined he must be to get up so early in the morning.
Sometimes, he drops clues about himself – a tortie cat, a fierce foodie, a wicked sense of humor. But he stays shy of the camera.
I don’t personally know this local photographer, but I feel as though I do because his oeuvre reveals what and how he sees the land we inhabit, and it resonates with our own experiences of co-existing amid wildlife and natural phenomena. The more he chronicles our daily lives through his eyes, the more he becomes a “friend” and a fellow citizen who we rely on to lift our spirits – which for many is a challenge these days.
It’s funny how social media impacts us. This peripatetic photographer inadvertently became part of my sphere because of his stirring and constant postings. At a certain point, I went in search to see what this guy looks like (not stalking). Who is he? I learned a little, but not much. I had this nagging feeling I’d like to meet him for a coffee one day to talk about the crucial things we seemed to share in common: photography, love of nature, cats, food, a concern for my community. But you know how it is – life ticks on and you figure one day you’ll bump into this person somewhere and tell him how much his work brightens your day.
That won’t happen. Grant Scully left this world on Dec. 29th, passing suddenly and leaving a community shocked by the void he leaves. I noticed on Facebook that many people experienced their relationship with Scully the same way I had. They relied on his consistency. He’d become a part of the tableaux of living here. He belonged to them.
Many who were luckier than me actually knew the man. The online outpouring of shock and grief over his passing is palpable. But it would not surprise me if scores of people show up to his funeral even if they never met the man in the flesh. Scully was 67 years old.
I remember catching an image he posted on Dec. 24th at 5 pm. A snow laced monochrome of Piermont. He captioned it: It’s a Wonderful Life. And I remember thinking, yes it is, regardless of everything that feels wrong and unjust and frightening. Yes, Scully has stopped time on Christmas Eve to remind us to look up and drink in the beauty that surrounds us. Often times, while following his work online, I’d think to myself “this guy is living his best life.” Making art on nearly a daily basis is the best tonic in the world, for the artist and for all of us. Scully filled our world with his magical perspective. He leaves behind a body of work but also a mandate for those of us who make art to keep on doing it. Scully often got “likes’ and “hearts” and heartfelt comments on the posted photos but I suspect he had no idea just how broad an audience he had and how much we depended on him.
RIP Grant Scully
