Keith Carter has a problem.
He’s one of the world’s great photographers, with a legendary sense for the mystery in the mundane. But right now he’s at home in Beaumont, and his longtime assistant, Cathy Spence, is calling for help from a side door.
“She’s out there putting textures on a dead snapping turtle, and it’s not going too well,” he says.
There’s usually one critter or another to fuss with in Carter’s corner of Southeast Texas, a place he likes so much because it’s “flat, tangled, wet, deeply green, and full of really good storytellers.” He’s also a fan of possums and poetry. For his photographs, Carter prefers the arcane, the imperfect, the muddy, and what he calls the gumbo culture of Beaumont—a blend of “white Anglo-Saxon Protestants, Hispanic…