I'm a wilderness and wildlife photographer based in Vancouver, with roots in Regina. Most of my work starts before the camera comes out: reading maps, looking for quiet trails, checking elevation, watching weather, and spending a lot of time waiting with no guarantee anything will happen.

That part matters to me as much as the finished image. The walking, scouting, waiting, and wrong turns are usually where the photograph begins. By the time I press the shutter, I've already been in conversation with the place for a while.

I try to work quietly and with respect, whether I'm photographing an animal, a shoreline, a forest, or a patch of light that only lasts a few seconds. The goal is not just to show what something looks like. It is to hold onto what it felt like to be there.

Film production shaped how I see. It taught me to notice light, framing, timing, and mood. Outside, though, there is no crew and no second take. You get what the land gives you, if you are patient enough to notice it.

The best moments are often small: eye contact with an animal, fog lifting off water, a line of trees catching the last sun, the texture of bark or stone. I'm drawn to images that feel specific instead of polished into something generic.

I care about the natural world as it is: complicated, fragile, beautiful, and not always easy to reach. Photography gives me a reason to keep paying attention.

Background

I grew up in Regina, Saskatchewan, and moved to Vancouver for the coast, mountains, rain, and forests. After COVID, nature photography became more than an interest. It gave me a reason to get outside, slow down, and rebuild a rhythm around being in the field.

Working in Vancouver's film industry put me around people who were serious about composition and visual storytelling. I learned a lot by watching how they shaped a frame, then took those lessons into quieter, less controlled places.

Now I spend much of my time looking for places that still feel unhurried. Some are close to the city. Some take planning, long drives, and a bit of uncertainty. I like that mix: the research before a trip, the physical work of getting there, and the quiet problem-solving once I arrive.

Photography gives me room to work alone, move at my own pace, and respond immediately to what is in front of me. That freedom is a big part of why I keep coming back to it.

Philosophy

I give away a lot of my photos, especially when they can be useful to the communities or places connected to where they were made. I also share work through free stock sites because I like the idea that an image can travel farther than I can.

Licensing helps fund the next trip: better access, more time outside, and chances to reach places that have not been photographed the same way over and over. I want the work to be useful, but I also want it to stay personal.

I am not interested in making nature look clean, distant, or decorative. I want the photographs to keep some of the mud, patience, luck, and effort inside them. A good image should feel like it came from being there, not just passing through.

The payoff is partly the photograph, and partly what each trip teaches me for the next one: where the light falls, how animals move, which trails are worth returning to, and when to put the camera down.