Landscape and nature photography isn't something I do regularly. It's closer to an escape. It's also the hardest genre I work in — technical and artistic skill aren't enough, and neither is finding a beautiful place. A landscape photograph depends on light and weather you can't control, often at the end of hours of travel. Still, it's where I reset, and it sharpens the compositional instincts I bring back to the rest of the work.

Whether tracing the concentric rings of a tide-worn stone, the fractal geometry of rain-soaked ferns, or the way fog softens an oak against lichen-covered granite, I am drawn to moments where geology, light, and organic form converge into something quietly extraordinary.