As the van headed out of the dry basin that holds Salt Lake City, we exchanged introductions. I managed to overhear some of my fellow riders’ careers—accountant, musician, pastor, web developer — but soon we fell silent and admired the mountains. At first they were just a darker shade of sky pinned to the horizon like a ragged strip of construction paper. Then the road began to wind, the van’s engine grew louder, and enormous peaks surrounded us. I yawned to make my ears pop and began to see snow and ski lifts. Eventually we veered south as we reached the east side of the Wasatch Mountains, and, 7,000 feet up, we entered Park City.

I soon learned that for the first hundred years of its history, Park City, which boasts the “greatest snow on earth,” was known not for its skiing, but for its silver mines. It’s strange to think that miners ascended the mountain and saw the shimmering snow-covered peaks only to be plunged day after day into darkness. Today, most visitors to Park City give little thought to the dormant network of tunnels beneath them as they hit the slopes. But for ten days each January things change. It is as if a piece of history flickers to life again. Visitors arrive in the city not to ski, but to file in and out of the darkness in search of something—but not silver. They are looking for something unique and fresh in the films premiering at the world’s largest independent film festival: Sundance. [Read the rest over at Curator]