How would you tell a story about a fragile, violent, ancient and just

born earth? How would you begin to explain the way the

environment shapes us, and how that shape recreates our

response to the land?

Just off the coast of West Africa, in the Canary Islands, is the

island of Lanzarote. Formed by volcanoes 15 million years ago,

and again as recently as the 1730s, the island is defined by its

particular visual beauty—colors and textures and mysteries often

compared to the way we imagine Mars. It’s also defined by

extraordinary wine, by a UNESCO Bioshere Reserve, and the

way a difficult land can encourage life.

Tom Deleenheer journeyed to Lanzarote and found a compelling,

quietly evocative photographic story to tell. Part visual

anthropology, part aesthetic examination, part love-song, his

images capture the colors and lines and shapes of humanity’s

presence on the island. Colorful doors set into white walls,

laundry hung on lines, roadways in lava beds, the ways a wall can

reach upward into a blue sky—Deleenheer’s sun-bleached and

arid compositions capture the combined patina and hope of our

presence.