I got this hunch about the makings of a picture. When photographing, I don’t think it is simply the subject that gives something up. The photographer must lose something in return. That within those split seconds of light flooding into camera, both have lost something. And in that loss, something infinitely stronger has been born. A bond. Two, exposed back into one. The vail of duality, decomposed, revealing a divine sense of oneness. Perhaps, even the genesis of a photograph.
— Willy Scott
Rocked deep in the cradle of the Rockies, Willy Scott was born in Missoula county, Montana, in 1996. A fifth generation Montanan, Scott claims to have been raised by the forest. Inquiring deeper, he might share a tale of his first encounter with a mature sow bear who taught him mercy or perhaps a stoic buffalo in the howling, frantic flurry that taught him grace. But, it was his mother who initiated his vocation within photography. A Montana schoolteacher, she dreamt of one day taking her children to Paris. For years, she saved until Scott’s thirteenth Christmas, where under the tree was a pocket-sized Eiffel Tower, a paper plane ticket and a camera. “Was all some big trick” Scott states, with a grin. “She just wanted photos of the trip.”. In 2020, Scott received his Bachelor of Arts from St. Olaf College and went on to apprentice for the fashion photographer, Mario Sorrenti, in New York City. He has since returned to Montana where he is concluding a handbound book of thirty six photographs entitled, The Will.
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