The Lone Wolf Photographer

When I step out of the truck with my camera and tripod, the photograph is not the first thing on my mind.

Most people assume photography begins when the camera comes out. For me, it begins long before that moment. It begins with the place itself — the air, the quiet, the light moving through the trees, the sound of water over rocks, or the stillness of a mountain morning.

That experience is what I’m really there for.

The photograph comes later.

Over the years, I’ve realized something about the way I work. I’m a bit of a lone wolf when it comes to photography.

Even when my husband and I travel together, he understands that once I step out with my gear, I’m entering a different kind of space. He usually hangs back or wanders off, and that works perfectly for both of us. It gives me the quiet I need to settle into the environment.

I’ve tried photographing with other photographers before, and while I enjoy learning from other people, the experience always felt different. When you’re with others, conversation naturally happens. You start talking about settings, lenses, techniques, or the next location. The process becomes more technical and more mechanical.

There’s nothing wrong with that approach. Many photographers thrive on it.

But for me, it takes me out of the moment.

When I’m alone, I’m able to slow down and absorb the place around me. I watch how the light shifts across a ridge or how fog moves through a valley. Sometimes I stand there for quite a while before I even open the tripod.

Those quiet moments are where the real connection happens.

I believe that connection shows up later in the work.

The images I create — especially the painterly photo art pieces I’ve been developing — aren’t just about documenting a location. They’re about translating the feeling of being there. The calm of a river at daybreak. The weight of clouds before a storm. The soft glow of evening light touching the trees.

Those moments can’t be rushed, and they can’t be forced.

They have to be experienced first.

Photography has always been a personal process for me, but over time it has also become something deeper — a way to reconnect with stillness and with the natural world around me.

In a busy and noisy world, those quiet moments in nature feel increasingly rare.

Standing alone with a camera in a place that hasn’t fully woken up yet — that’s where the work begins.

The photograph is simply the final step.