I got this hunch about the makings of a photograph. I don’t believe it is simply the subject that gives something up. The photographer must lose something in return. That within those split seconds of light flooding the 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. The genesis of a photograph.
— Willy Scott
Willy Scott’s photographs are renowned for their subtle magnetism. Their direct, yet enchanting whisper. Scott sees what makes us feel human. One may find themselves leaning in towards the emulsion, as a world slowly unfolds itself to those willing to offer up their attention.
In 1996, nestled deep in the heart of the Rockies, Willy Scott was born in the town of Missoula. A fifth generation Montanan, Scott claims to have been raised by the forest. If you ask him, it was his first encounter with a mature black bear that taught him about mercy. 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 1952 Rolleiflex camera. “Was all some big con” Scott states, with a grin. “She just needed 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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