About the Exhibition

The Muscle of the Colorado River
Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, AZ

It takes just one raindrop, one melted snowflake trickling down the rugged Rocky Mountains to bring the Colorado River to life. The river wiggles down the western side of the Continental Divide in Colorado, pulses across Utah and Arizona, and then meanders along the spines of Nevada and California. Minor and major tributaries within its 246,000-square-mile watershed build its strength along the way.

In 1922, seven Western states signed the Colorado River Compact to “provide for the equitable division and apportionment of the use of the waters of the Colorado River system.” To help manage this, the agreement organized two basins. The Upper Basin included Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico. The Lower Basin contained Arizona, Nevada, and California. Mexico did not receive its own allocation until 1944. For almost 100 years, new compacts, federal laws, court decrees, and regulatory guidelines have defined distribution to each stakeholder under what’s collectively known as “The Law of the River.” The division of water was not based on percentage of precipitation, but unwittingly upon one of the wettest known periods in the West.

Every drop of water from the river is now controlled, every drop allocated for use. The Colorado’s mighty waters once flowed unimpeded for 1,450 miles to the Gulf of Mexico, touring alpine forests, narrow canyons, lush valleys, bustling towns, and a patchwork quilt of agricultural fields. Now, the river also runs through an intricate network of dams, reservoirs, pumping plants, canals, lifts, and tunnels. This system provides drinking water to over 40 million people, irrigates over 5 million acres of agricultural lands, generates hydroelectric power, sustains unique ecosystems, controls unexpected floods, provides world-class recreational opportunities, and supports the livelihood of thousands with jobs across multiple industries.

An ongoing drought makes supply unpredictable, though, and demand continues to increase. Population growth insists the river work even harder—so much so that the river dries up before it reaches its intended destination. The Colorado River has not reached the sea naturally in over 20 years. What little water does make it to the United States-Mexico border is so saline and toxic from pollutants like agrichemicals, wastewater discharge, stormwater discharge, storage runoff, mining contaminants, even fecal matter, it must be processed and treated before use.

Coincidentally, I took my first photography class 20 years ago. Escaping to the outdoors with camera in hand started as an outlet to my stressful corporate job. After leaving that position in 2007 to follow my passion for photography, self-expression became my way of exploring my curiosities about the ever-changing world—and to help inspire others to do the same. I never imagined the twists and turns of my creative work would lead me to water. Despite a life-long fear of swimming in water where I couldn’t see my feet, I came to understand and respect coastal hydrology during my three terms as an Artist-in-Residence in Acadia National Park in Maine. At home in Arizona, I redirected my artistic focus to learning more about water in the West. Then, in 2015, I fell off my stand-up paddleboard in a rapid on the Colorado River outside of Moab, Utah, and I fell in love with the river.

This photographic exhibit encourages you to consider your own relationship with the Colorado River. Where is the water you consume coming from? Where is it going? Who and what else needs this water? The river can live without us, but we can’t live without the river. By celebrating its rich history and appreciating the complex issues at play, we can work together to nurture this valuable resource and ensure its longevity for future generations.