Stillness at Lyles Pond

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Andrea B Denney, a trailblazer in the field of fine art photography, is renowned for her ability to weave captivating stories through her lens. Her work is a reflection of her deep connection to the world around her, inviting viewers to rediscover the beauty in everyday moments. Through her thought-provoking podcast, Andrea explores the power of storytelling as a means of reconnecting with one's true self and reclaiming one's narrative. Her keynote speeches are a testament to her passion for inspiring others, offering a unique blend of photography, storytelling, and wisdom that leaves a lasting impact on all who hear her speak.

Andrea B Denney

Welcome back to Remembrance Record. I’m Andrea, and today I want to invite you into a story that’s, well, quieter than most. If you’ve been listening for a while, you know I’m always drawn to those places that don’t shout for attention—old barns, empty storefronts, the kind of corners you might drive past a hundred times and never really see. But today, I want to talk about a pond. Lyles Pond, to be exact. It’s tucked off a back road here in rural Tennessee, and honestly, if you blink, you’ll miss it. But if you stop—if you really stop—there’s something about it that just… holds you.

Andrea B Denney

There’s this kind of silence you only find near water, but not the big, crashing kind. I’m talking about the small waters. The ones that just stay. Lyles Pond is like that. The trees lean in, almost like they’re praying, and the water barely moves. No wind, no ripples, just the faintest reflection of the branches above. And if you’re quiet enough, maybe a little bit of yourself, too. I remember standing there, camera in hand, and not wanting to break the spell. I only took one photo. Sometimes, one is enough, you know?

Andrea B Denney

That moment took me right back to early mornings as a kid—summers spent around ponds and creeks, fireflies blinking in the dark, the world just waking up. There’s a beauty in those ordinary moments, the ones that don’t announce themselves. Stillness isn’t emptiness. It’s presence. It’s an invitation to pause, to listen, to let the quiet speak first. And honestly, in a world that’s always rushing, that kind of stillness feels like a gift.

Andrea B Denney

So, let’s talk about what happens when you try to capture that kind of moment. My approach to photography—especially black and white—has always been about more than just what’s in front of the lens. I’m inspired by folks like Ansel Adams, who could take a landscape and make you feel something deep in your bones. For me, it’s about emotional landscapes. I want my images to feel like memory—bold contrast, deep texture, a kind of quiet truth.

Andrea B Denney

There’s something about a single photograph that can hold a whole world. It preserves a fleeting moment, lets you return to it again and again. That’s why I only took one frame at Lyles Pond. I didn’t want to interrupt the stillness, just honor it. And that’s kind of the heart of my work—documenting what’s disappearing, inviting you not just to look, but to feel.

Andrea B Denney

I think about “The Barn That Stayed”—one of my prints that folks seem to connect with. I didn’t plan to stop that day. I was just driving, looking for a little air, a little quiet, something to make me feel steady again. And then I saw it: this barn, still standing. Bent, weathered, cracked wide open in places, but still—standing. There’s a resilience in these forgotten places, a spirit that refuses to be erased. That’s what I try to capture. Not just the structure, but the story, the feeling, the memory.

Andrea B Denney

You know, as we talked about in the episode—Silent Witness—there’s a sacredness to these overlooked spaces. Honoring them isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s legacy work. It’s about preserving stories for the folks who come after us, making sure these places and moments aren’t forgotten. And you don’t have to be a photographer to do that. Maybe for you, it’s a patch of woods, or a quiet room in the afternoon light. Maybe it’s just sitting still for a minute and letting the world settle around you.

Andrea B Denney

I’ll be honest, after years as a caregiver—always on the move, always bracing for the next thing—learning to pause, to really see, has been a kind of healing. Slowing down enough to capture a scene, to let the stillness in, it’s changed me. And I think it can change anyone. There’s peace in those quiet moments, a kind of grounding that’s hard to find anywhere else.

Andrea B Denney

So, if you’re listening and wondering how to find your own still place, start small. Look for the spaces that hold you without asking anything in return. Let yourself be still, even if just for a breath. You don’t have to move to be moved. And if you want to see the photo from today’s story, you can buy a digital, paper, metal or acrylic print of “The Water That Stayed Still” by visiting my website at andreabdenneystudios.com and the contact page will give you steps you can take to reach me about any of my prints. I hope it brings you a little bit of the peace I found at Lyles Pond. Until next time, may stillness find you again.