In 1990, Gabriel García Márquez interviewed Akira Kurosawa. Here's a little bit.

García Márquez: Can you remember any image from real life that you consider impossible to express on film?

Kurosawa: Yes. That of a mining town named Ilidachi, where I worked as an assistant director when I was very young. The director had declared at first glance that the atmosphere was magnificent and strange, and that’s the reason we filmed it. But the images showed only a run-of-the-mill town, for they were missing something that was known to us: that the working conditions in (the town) are very dangerous, and that the women and children of the miners live in eternal fear for their safety. When one looks at the village one confuses the landscape with that feeling, and one perceives it as stranger than it actually is. But the camera does not see it with the same eyes.

Thierry Girard, Accrochage, 1944. This picture and this picture:

Robert Adams, from The New West: Along the Colorado Front Range, 1974.

And that quote versus this one about Girard:

"He photographed the landscape as it stands, as we do in living there, unvarnished, without picturesque conventions. And paradoxically, thanks to his magical talent, France is such that we love the most. We have in our memories, our very unconscious, associated with these pictures, feelings of happiness. These cold images become very emotional and a real beauty appears."

Thierry Girard's Maquis, 15 novembre 1942 from Paysages Insoumis, 2007,

Point de vue 12, 1997. From his blog.

Facebook alerted me to the work of Thierry Girard, whose work is up at New Cabell Hall back at UVa. Thank you to Google translate for the quote below.

"...whenever possible, I try to take into account the thickness of the landscape, and consider it as a kind of palimpsest, the landscape is actually the result of successive writings and intertwined in history natural and human."