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  • The Daily Edit – Roam Fest

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    We need more women in all facets of creativity in the outdoor industry as directors, producers, photo editors, filmmakers, and photographers. I hope that with this influx, we can broaden narratives and perspectives in outdoor media.

    As a commercial photographer, my shoots are usually highly structured and charted out, often involving weeks or months of planning and strict guidelines from the Creative Director. During Roam, most of my focus was on supporting and guiding my mentee. But in the pockets of time when she was working, I had rare moments to step back.

    I used that time to follow my curiosity—without the looming thought of a client reviewing the images or waiting on deliverables. I asked myself questions like, “What if I combined panning with ICM (intentional camera movement)? Would it be too much distortion, or could it work in some odd but interesting way?” Looking at the bikers against the landscape, I wondered if there was a new way to pair the two. I pulled out in-camera double exposures from my bag of tricks—a technique I hadn’t touched in years.

    I took the opportunity to be an artist without a client at the end of it, to let ideas succeed or fail with no pressure to show the work to anyone. My biggest creative takeaway is the importance of carving out space to explore with no job on the line, no expectations, and not even the thought that anyone will see the images—just letting my imagination run loose to see what it creates.

    Michelle VanTine (mentor)
    I once read something to the effect of ‘representation isn’t charity—it’s the map that lets dreamers know a route exists.’

    For years, as a sports photographer, I stood in front of billboards at places like Dick’s Sporting Goods or the Nike outlet, wondering ‘But how?’ and having absolutely no idea what the route was. That uncertainty isn’t unique to me—women make up only 5–15% of sports photographers in the U.S., and because we so often work alone, it’s easy to feel like no one else like us exists and we have no road map to where we want to arrive.  Since we are always the minority, there’s often a pressure to be tough or prove that we belong in our workspace. Roam Media Core is the only program I’m aware of that women can let their tough exterior down and ask, “I don’t know how to do that—can you show me?” without the fear of being discredited which we already have to battle simply by walking on the job site. Here, women can strategize, share struggles, overcome obstacles, and gain hope. It’s the kind of community that makes the impossible and lonely road feel possible and that others are walking alongside us. Now, if someone asks me, “How do I get a billboard?” I can actually tell them how as a mentor who has walked through the journey.

    I would love to see more programs that support spaces like this for women to grow in an environment that doesn’t feel threatening. The change we need is enormous, and at times the gap feels too wide to bridge. I believe though, that the only way to close it is one person, one program, one opportunity at a time.  I hope to see more programs that help raise the next generation of women in sports and outdoor industries.


    Linette Messina (mentee)
    My biggest personal take away is the overwhelming feeling of acceptance. Working and learning alongside such incredibly talented women in the photography/ film industry, sharing stories through their lens was an experience I have never had before in my 20+yrs of working as a photographer. I felt accepted from my Media core peers and everyone I met at the Roam fest. But most importantly, I accepted myself for where I am in my life, my age, my body, my mindset on giving myself grace, and the work I must continue to put in to help create the change I hope to see in all parts of media and advertising, which is inclusivity and authenticity.



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  • The Daily Edit – Yogan Müller talks about photobooks and stories hiding in plain sight – A Photo Editor

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    Tracy Hills, Outrigger scaffolding kit, June 2022.


    Tracy Hills, Independent Construction Water Truck, August 2021.


    Newly-Paved Streets at Sunset Southwest of the I-580, Tracy Hills, CA, December 2023.

    Heidi: Your Tracy Hills imagery highlights ecological crises—like water access and wildfire risk—in a New Topographics context. What visual strategies did you use to balance documentary clarity with emotion?

    Yogan: What I discovered in Tracy Hills took what I’ve been exploring for the past 10 years to a whole new level. In 2015, I documented a similar development in SW Iceland. Think new streets encroaching on rough lava terrain. Iceland prepared me for Tracy Hills, where scales were multiplied by 10.

    On the first trip to Tracy Hills in August 2021, the entire Central Valley was shrouded in smoke from the Dixie Fire, which became one of the most devastating wildfires in California’s history. Setting foot in Tracy Hills, the noonday sun was filtering through the high-altitude haze, all the while casting an incredibly bright light on hundreds of houses under construction. It was 100°F. The raging fire up north and the marching construction enterprise seemed so dichotomous.

    It was hard not to feel emotional when photographing this material, because it was a 1:1 reflection of the developments The New Topographics photographed in the region fifty years ago. That, of course, became a huge photographic challenge. However, for someone who hails from France and had the opportunity to further the conversation laid forth by the New Topographics was something very special. All the landscape books and photobooks I had poured myself into, all the sprawl pictures I’d avidly studied, had found a contemporary manifestation in Tracy Hills.

    Walking the landscape made me feel solastalgic. Solastalgia refers to the emotions we feel when we know we are seriously altering the climate without taking sufficient action, despite the unequivocal evidence of change. At the same time, I felt the urge to photograph everything around me. I was shooting like a crazy fool. That was wonderful. So much material for my art laid around in the form of objects, textures, colors, and materials. I couldn’t stop.

    The clarity you mentioned is crucial to me. In my recent projects, I have strived to distill complexity into cohesive pictures. If I think about it, it comes from my math background. Mathematics is so elegant, abstract, and simultaneously practical. Theorems, for example, often compress extremely complex concepts into a single proposition or, better, one absolute formula, from which the most vivid representations emerge. I like this idea. It informs large swaths of my work from the past several years.

    All those concepts, concerns, and emotions are baked into the book, which launches this fall with Radius Books. Britt Salvesen and Greg Foster-Rice generously wrote two essays for the book. I am beyond grateful. With Radius Director David Chickey, we decided to shortcut some of the pages. That strategy creates powerful visual encounters and collisions between images and spreads. You can visibly see Tracy Hills sprawl into the edges of the ecosystem that supports the sprawling development, which has been my ultimate goal while photographing there.


    Tracy Hills, double-page spread, photo courtesy of Radius Books.

       

    Drones and LA Water Narratives, self-published book, UCLA Design Media Arts, March 2024.

    Tell us about your self-published water-infrastructure book?
    This self-published book is the culmination of my winter 2024 undergraduate class at UCLA Design Media Arts, where I introduced drone photography.
    Students learned FAA rules, safety, and how to fly. They utilized this knowledge to focus on the Los Angeles Aqueduct that brings life to Southern California. By happenstance, my class convened shortly after the 110th anniversary of the Los Angeles Aqueduct inauguration on November 5, 1913.

    I’ve always thought of drones as tools to enrich our sensory perception. I want to embrace this positive outlook and steer clear of all the other negative connotations drones are associated with.

    We surveyed the aqueduct from Sylmar to Owens Lake, CA. Sylmar is where the aqueduct enters the city. The Cascades, visible from the I-5, are rather spectacular. Owens Lake, on the other hand, is, historically, the first source of fresh water for Los Angeles. Today, however, it is an engineered behemoth where the LADWP conducts dust mitigation experiments called “Best Available Control Measures.” I spent time flying there to


    Airborne view of one of LADWP’s dust mitigation techniques (sprinkler irrigation), Owens Lake, CA, February 2024.

    Downstream, the self-published book is a collection of diverse voices, co-designed, printed, and hand-bound by my students. I led the design and printing, and we had a lot of fun working together. This water class, survey, and book inaugurated a long-term project with the LA-based 501(c)3 Pando Populus. I will be glad to share more when the opportunity arises.

    What unique storytelling potentials do photography books offer compared to exhibitions or online platforms?
    A photobook is, in and of itself, a magical device and an art form. Once a show is done, it’s done. It may endure in installation pictures, memory, and sales, but it’s fundamentally done. Whereas a book circulates, reemerges, can be subject to awards, new printings, and pops up in fairs and shops far from its place of production, and years after its release. In other words, a book lasts longer and may reach a wider audience over time.

    When pictures, pacing, typography, and paper work in unison, a whole world unfolds in a photobook. The very act of turning pages elicits strong visual relationships between pictures and spreads. The viewer is taken on a journey of visual encounters, emotions, and perception.

    For me, a photobook opens a space for an intimate relationship between the viewer and the content. Turning pages is a sensual experience. A freshly printed book smells good. The paper has a texture that rubs on your fingertips. And pictures are visual stimuli. A photobook transforms distant subjects into an up close, felt, and even embodied experience.

    I think it’s anthropologist Tim Ingold who, somewhere, wrote about the words printed in the silent pages of a book. This holds true for a photobook. I like to populate this silence with pictures that visibly encapsulate sound. Flipthrough video here

    Online will always be a place in flux. For me, it’s a good space to design complementary, immersive experiences through full-screen galleries and otheri nteractive interfaces. As such, a website can be a wonderful space to share the research and creative decisions that shaped a photobook.

    Your practice includes photogrammetry, drones, AI, and book design. How do these tools influence your creative process and storytelling in both personal and editorial work?
    Embracing photogrammetry, drones, and AI pushed me to undertake a profound overhaul of how I use photography.
    That came from teaching and engaging with faculty, students, and staff at UCLA Design Media Arts. Our department embraces new technologies wholeheartedly. Over time, I increasingly saw and used photography as an expanding field, and a medium porous to rapid, often radical technological advances–think of generative AI, for example–and a medium that has never ceased to shapeshift since 1839.

    Teaching these tools and topics had me learn them inside out, which naturally pushed me to stay curious, alert, and hungry for the newest iterations. That’s one of the wonderful gifts of teaching.

    Now, bearing the ecological crisis in mind, I can’t help but ponder the overlap of exponential technology and our exponential environmental footprint, a hallmark of the Anthropocene. I guess both are rooted in the idea that there are no limits to what we can do, which is, in a way, true – human ingenuity often seems unlimited – although it’s clearer and clearer that this is undermining the very conditions limitless endeavors are predicated on.

    Practically, photogrammetry has thrust photography into the third dimension. Drones take it to the skies. AI taps into the enormous visual archive that is the Internet. Books open photographs to a fuller sensory pictorial appreciation that is tactile and intimate. It’s incredible to think we have easy access to such tools. At the same time, they have a dark side that can’t be ignored. That’s what artists have been doing: using the tools while critically engaging with their underlying problematic dynamics and foundations.

    I am really into drones at the moment. Flying high, you decenter yourself by seeing the complexity of the world around you. I am here, on my feet, immersed in the world, piloting, and simultaneously aloft, contemplating it in flux, 50, 200, 350ft in the air. That’s what I mean by “drones enrich our sensory perception.” I am fascinated by the artistic and technical possibilities of remote sensing, so much so that I’ve launched a drone photography business called Topographica. I serve architecture, construction, and public art clients in SoCal. Drones are incredible tools to contextualize and elevate installations and constructions. They are also incredible tools to create 3D, 1:1 digital twins of real-world projects through photogrammetry. With them, artists and operators can document, map, archive, and tell stories based on data-rich, airborne images.

    “Overshoot” launched in 2025 how did this idea come about?
    I am grateful to Aline Smithson, Founder and Director of Lenscratch, for letting me create a dedicated space for ecologically-minded visual practices and conversations. Overshoot stems from a deep care and love for the environment, ecological arts and justice. We live in ecological overshoot. That is the central premise of the column. In homage to Donna Haraway, I want to “stay with the trouble”.

    Overshoot also stems from the central claim of my practice-based PhD thesis–completed in 2018: photography is one of the tools that brought us into the Anthropocene. In hindsight, this line of inquiry, which I’ve explored in my manuscript and fieldwork in SW Iceland, was a reaction to what I learned when studying photography in Brussels. I’d often hear: “That’s just an image,” which always resonated as “photography is nothing more than an image.” That not only seemed at odds with all the time and care I’ve always put into planning trips to Iceland and making photographs there, but also didn’t take into consideration the historic and metabolic ties between photography and energy.

    Overshoot holds space for conversations, portfolios, and scholarly essays that directly engage with this moment of ecological overshoot. Ecologically-minded works and practices abound and are incredibly diverse. My goal is to offer artists a platform to share, discuss, and promote their work. I am also curious to know how they’ve come to grapple with the ramifications of ecological overshoot.

    I’ve just interviewed Siobhan Angus. Siobhan published an important book with Duke University Press last year titled “Camera Geologica. An Elemental History of Photography,” in which she traces the mineral extraction, use, and flows that have shaped photography over space and time. That is a fascinating and richly-layered history I’d encourage everyone to read. Her interview will be out on September 12. As a brand, Overshoot attempts to capture the exponential rise and use of photography. We still say we “shoot” images, and frequently mention the information and visual overload we experience online every day. That is also what informed Overshoot’s visual identity.



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  • The Daily Edit – Anne Keller Champions More Women Behind the Lens with Roam Media Core – A Photo Editor

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    Heidi: As a photographer and former mentor with Roam Media Core, what are your hopes for emerging femme creators working in outdoor photography?
    Anne: I started shooting photos in the bike industry in 2004. At the time, there was literally like one other woman shooting bikes. While I definitely felt supported by some of my male peers, I never had the experience of someone holding my hand and guiding me through the awkward first steps, or second steps, or third, etc. I didn’t even know that might have been a helpful thing to ask for.
    My experience last year as a mentor, and my hope for this year, is that we can create a safe space for that stumbling to happen, and for those hesitant questions to be asked. I think the experience of gaining entry is fairly universal. If this program helps provide any sort of guidance on how one builds a career in the outdoor world and hands over a few tools along the way, that sounds like success to me.
    It’s clear the industry needs more women behind the lens. The statistic I’ve heard is that in the world of action sports photography, participation hovers around 15%. That’s pretty low, so anything that can help reduce those barriers is a good thing.

    Andi Zolton bleeds a set of bike brakes in her garage and is one of only two US based women who wrench professionally on the MTB race circuit, and in her spare time co-operates the Roam women’s bike fest, and fixes stuff on her friend’s bikes

    How do the mentor and mentee relationships work? 
    The program brings on six experienced mentors. This year we have four photo mentors and two video mentors, each paired with a mentee. Applications opened in early May, and we had over 120 people apply, which to me speaks to the need for programming like this.
    The idea behind selecting mentees was to find folks with a solid foundation of skills who were career-focused and genuinely interested in working in the outdoor industry. This isn’t a beginner program, and it’s not meant for someone who just wants to learn how to shoot bikes. We wanted this to feel like a valuable experience for both mentees and mentors, like the mentors could be instrumental in providing guidance that may help further someone’s career objectives.
    The mentor and mentee teams begin virtual work about three months before Roam Fest. They spend that time getting to know each other, talking about goals, career ambitions, and building some trust. Then, each team is paired with two outdoor brands and works virtually with the brand’s marketing team to develop guidelines for a shoot. The program all comes together at Roam Fest, where everyone gathers in person to execute a series of brand product and athlete shoots.

    Have mentees developed brand relationships as well as community support?
    Yes, that’s absolutely the goal. The hope is that mentees can develop relationships with brands that show up at Roam Fest, and that some of those turn into long-term work.
    Community support happens a little more naturally, through time spent with their cohorts and mentors. Each mentee gets paired with one mentor, but much of the festival time is spent as a full group, which gives everyone the chance to learn from each other. Last year, that group dynamic ended up being one of the most impactful parts for both mentees and mentors.

    You’ve been based in Fruita, CO, a trail-centric town, since 2002. How has living there shaped your photography projects and creative aspirations?
    Well, for one thing, it’s forced me to spend a lot of early mornings or late evenings out on the trail, because our lovely desert environment looks flat and shitty in mid-day light… haha.
    Fruita and the greater Grand Valley are unique-looking places, and I think that’s been helpful from a visual standpoint. There’s a whole swath of the country that, while beautiful, starts to look pretty similar from one location to the next. The desert southwest is a far cry from that. Our landscape is distinct, and while it comes with some lighting challenges, it’s also a fun place to shoot. Nothing else really looks like it.
    From a brand and media standpoint, the Grand Valley’s also a great location. It’s a good spot to product test, there’s a range of trails, and it’s gotten a decent amount of media attention. While travel is always possible, it’s nice when your backyard is already on the radar and is a desirable place for brands to visit.

    You helped build Fruita’s sense of community through Hot Tomato Pizza. Now as a photographer, how do you use your photography in building community?
    That’s a great question, and maybe one I haven’t given a ton of thought to. But I think there’s something to be said about how much community already exists in the cycling world. It’s honestly one of my favorite things about the sport. It’s so common for surface connections to turn into friendships, just from time spent on bikes. Most of my favorite people have come into my life that way, and the way those threads weave through other circles is kind of amazing.
    While there might be six degrees of separation between us and Kevin Bacon, I’d argue it’s only one or two degrees between most people in the mountain bike world. So maybe it’s less about building community with a camera, and more about celebrating the community that already exists.

    What do running a crankin’ pizza business, developing a fiercely loyal MTB community, and photography have in common?
    Well, for starters, I no longer smell like garlic every day or fall asleep with dried flour crusties in my eyes, so that’s a plus.
    I don’t know that we were responsible for developing the MTB community. It was on its way. But I can definitely speak to the connection between running a business and being a photographer. The outside view is always the fun stuff. That’s about 10 percent of either job.
    It’s invigorating to be behind the bar pouring beers and laughing with your customer friends, just like it’s fun to be out in the woods behind the camera on a shoot. But that’s such a small percentage of the work. The rest is the grunt stuff. And I think being able to accept and embrace that part might be what separates the romantics from the realists.
    I loved making pizzas. I love shooting photos. But I’m pretty indifferent about staring at my computer editing for hours, entering invoices in QuickBooks, cutting onions, or washing dishes. The behind-the-scenes is rarely glamorous, and also where the majority of the work happens.
    It might sound cooler to talk about the passion behind both things, but I try not to. Both the food and creative industries are passion-driven, and I’ve seen a lot of people dive in because of that. But I’ve also seen a lot of those efforts fail, because the reality of running a business is about a lot more than being passionate. It’s a lot of muck, and I’d rather help people be ready for that than glorify it. So maybe the commonality is to be passionate, but be even better at the mundane.

    The Patagonia film Life of Pie features your story. What was it like seeing your entrepreneurial success translated into film?
    Oh gosh, it was a wild ride. While the film had premiered at a few smaller festivals before the bigger outdoor ones, 5Point in Carbondale was the first one that really felt like a launch.
    We were packed into an auditorium with over a thousand people, all laughing at the same scenes, cheering at others. When the film ended, people stood up clapping, cheering, stomping. It was so loud. That moment was probably the first time I actually felt the gravity of our story being told in that way.
    We never thought much about our success from an outside perspective. We were just in it, running the business. I think that’s true for most small business owners. You’re just doing the thing, not stepping back and thinking about the bigger picture. There was never any meta-level cognition about trying to ‘create something.’ But seeing that response was like holding up a mirror. It made the community impact feel very real.

    You mentioned loving rides “headed toward disaster but not quite tipping over.” How does that sense of edge translate into your photo work?
    Yes, I totally love Type 2 fun.
    How does that show up in photo work? The other day, I was crouched so close into the trail corridor that my friend clipped my helmet with his handlebar as he passed. Thankfully I had the helmet on.
    I’ve been hit by pedals, handlebars, crashed with packs full of camera gear, been caught in hailstorms, had to light fires to stay warm, been stuck out in the dark, destroyed lenses, soaked cameras in rainstorms or at stream crossings, etc
    I really believe that the best action sports photographers actually do the sports themselves, usually at a higher level. I think you kind of have to, in order to access those special places and know what to do once you get there. Mother Nature isn’t always cooperative, and the same sort of experience you’d have on a big adventure ride is often what happens on a remote shoot.
    Give me someone suffering up a rain-soaked, muddy hike-a-bike any day. That’s where the emotion shows up. Even if it’s not pretty.



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  • The Daily Edit – Sacha Stejko talks about balancing vulnerability and power infront of and behind the lens – A Photo Editor

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    Photographer: Sacha Stejko

    I had the pleasure of serving on the 2025 Communication Arts Photography Competition jury—a fantastic opportunity to step outside my usual discipline and review photography alongside my esteemed peers. One standout moment was discovering Sacha Stej Sacha, an Auckland-based photographer represented by Image Driven Content. Her accolades include being named one of the top 200 advertising photographers globally by Lürzer’s Archive and being recognized as one of the 23 World’s Best Sport Photographers by The Agents Club in 2023. I recently had the pleasure of catching up with Sacha to discuss her award-winning image.

    Your photography is known for its cinematic and powerful portrayal of women—what are the key elements you look for when capturing intensity and resilience in your subjects?
    When I’m gearing up to capture my subjects, there are a few key elements I always keep in mind. First and foremost, getting to know my subjects is essential. I want to know what shapes who they are. Before the shoot and even during it, I dive into conversations that reveal what makes them tick.

    Once I have a sense of them, I try matching their emotional tone; if they’re fiery and passionate, I want that to jump off the frame. I aim to include a piece of who they are in every shot, whether it’s a glimmer in their eye or the way they hold themselves. I strive to create an image they can recognize, one that resonates with their energy. It’s all about connection, and that’s what I love most about photography: being able to freeze a slice of someone’s narrative, a moment of resilience and intensity, in time.

    In your “Girls in Sports” campaign for 2 Degrees, you highlighted both strength and vulnerability in your subject. Can you talk about how the casting went and what direction you gave?
    This campaign was shot alongside a TVC, and the fantastic Director Taylor Ferguson did the casting. When I met these young women I could see that they radiated talent and spirit. For this brief, I wanted to capture that passion and grit. They don’t just play the game—they own it. I love the dichotomy between their sweet appearances and the fierce determination they display on the field – there is nothing more badass than seeing these girls in their element. Take the rugby girl, for instance. I asked her to sprint full speed towards the camera, like she was dodging the opposing team. In that moment, she transformed into a powerhouse charging at me like a freight train, the fire in her belly blazing as she zoomed closer. It was exactly the energy we were after.

    How do you balance storytelling with advocacy in your visual work, particularly around gender representation?
    Women in sports face a harsh reality—they often get overshadowed, and it’s disheartening to see that women’s sports internationally don’t get the same spotlight as men’s. That’s why campaigns like this are so crucial; encouraging fans—especially from a young age—to rally behind these amazing athletes.

    In my visual work, I find that storytelling and advocacy naturally go hand in hand—probably without me even realizing it. As a woman photographer, I’m drawn to capturing fierce, strong women because I know just how powerful we can be. In a society that often tries to box us in or undermine our strength, it’s crucial to keep that fire alive. That passion burns even brighter as a mother to a spirited young daughter. I want her to see women as capable and unafraid, sensitive and kind, just like the women I photograph.

    How do you ensure your images challenge traditional portrayals, particularly of femininity and athleticism, while still maintaining authenticity and emotional depth?
    I’m usually guided by how I want the image to feel, especially when it comes to capturing femininity and athleticism. My images become a deep dive into an energy that connects the viewer to the subject. I want to create an atmosphere where the audience feels confronted, pulled into the frame, and unable to look away.

    I find authenticity through genuine human connections, digging beyond the surface, whether I’m photographing a seasoned athlete or someone new to the sport. There’s something superhuman about athletes; they possess more than just physical strength; they embody resilience and discipline. There’s a profound sacrifice that comes with striving for excellence, and that narrative fascinates me. Each image I capture is a testament to that journey—an exploration of what it truly means to balance vulnerability and power.

    Can you talk about the role visual media plays in shifting public perception and promoting equity, especially in underrepresented communities and activist movements? 
    Photography holds a unique power in shaping public perception and promoting equity. As a visual person myself, I’ve always felt that a single image can convey emotions and stories far more effectively than words ever could. It’s the raw authenticity of a photograph that can resonate with someone’s heart, breaking down barriers and connecting us all on a fundamental level.

    Through the lens of a camera, we can reveal the complexities of human nature and amplify voices that often go unheard. In this visual storytelling landscape, images become tools for change, not just documenting reality but actively reshaping how we view each other. Ultimately, photography fosters a shared humanity that can inspire action and fight against injustice. They remind us that, at our core, we are all just humans with similar desires for love, acceptance, and dignity.



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  • The Daily Edit – Florian Schulz and the vital role photography has in shaping public awareness and influencing policy – A Photo Editor

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    Photographer, Filmmaker, and Conservationist: Florian Schulz

    Heidi: We are a culture distracted by screen and cell service – is your photography and film work partially an act of resistance?
    Floiran: As a photographer and filmmaker, I often find myself at the intersection of creativity and technology. While social media platforms like Facebook and Instagram are undeniably powerful tools for sharing work and connecting with others, I have a complex relationship with them. On one hand, they provide valuable insights into the work of colleagues and friends, as well as access to news and thought-provoking statements. However, I also see them as significant sources of misinformation, where quantity often trumps quality, and the loudest voices can overshadow meaningful content.

    In my personal life, my wife and I have made a conscious decision to limit screen time for our children. Our 9- and 13-year-olds do not have cell phones, and screens are not used for entertainment. (We do watch nature documentaries on the TV) This choice has allowed them to develop remarkable creativity and a keen awareness of the world around them. They observe how excessive screen time affects their peers, and it’s heartening to see them thrive without the constant distraction of digital media.

    In this sense, my photography and filmmaking can be seen as acts of resistance against the prevailing culture of distraction. By focusing on creating meaningful, high-quality content that encourages reflection and engagement, I aim to counterbalance the fast-paced, often superficial nature of social media. My work is about capturing moments that inspire, provoke thought, and foster connection on a deeper level.

    Moreover, the process of creating art without the constant influence of social media allows me to tap into my own creative potential more authentically. It enables me to explore themes and ideas that might not fit into the algorithm-driven narratives that dominate online platforms. This approach not only enriches my work but also contributes to a broader cultural dialogue that values substance over spectacle.

    Ultimately, my goal is to inspire others to step back from the screens and engage with the world around them. By doing so, I hope to contribute to a shift in how we consume and interact with media, one that prioritizes depth, creativity, and genuine connection.

    Nature is wild and she works on her terms – how has this lack of control informed your creative work and life?
    Yes, nature is wild and unpredictable. That is exactly what I love about my work! This career that I have chosen is not such much of a simple job, work, a career, – it is rather the inevitable path I had to walk because of my passion for wild places, the adventure that comes with it and the desire to be in the presence of wild creatures. To do my work well, I need to be out in the wild for extended periods of times. This has always been my goal and accordingly I have chosen projects that allowed me to do this. What is beautiful about it is that one has to let go of control and especially when documenting wildlife I have to give in to a more organic approach. Sometimes when I am waiting for hours for an animal to appear or a certain behavior to show this work has a meditative element. I have to be here and now in the present. The sounds, sights, smells – the wind and weather conditions. All of it is important to take in or to capture in a series of photographs to document an ecosystem with its wildlife. I love the idea that moments and images have to “come to you”. The animals have to present themselves, that is when the good images get taken. After doing this for so many decades I also realize that it is not just the final image that counts for me – but the entire experience.
    As all of this takes a lot of time, we are just now at a particular crossroads. Even though I have always tried to have my family be a part of the adventure it was only possible at certain times. We are now embarking onto a new path where we are going to be exploring the wild as an entire family. We will start with some of the most exciting wild places across Alaska. From the fjords and forests of South East Alaska to the Arctic Tundra of the North or the bears coast along the Alaska peninsula.

    Does all your work come with a call to action? If a photographer wanted to get started supporting a cause, what’s the best way to start?
    You are right that a lot of my work over the past decades has been mission driven and often included a call to action. The hope to help with the conservation of ecosystems comes across in the stories I tell through my images. As a conservation photographer, my goal is to inspire viewers to care about the natural world and its wildlife. Whether it’s documenting the majesty of wild places or highlighting the challenges faced by endangered species, my work aims to raise awareness and encourage action.

    For photographers looking to support a cause, I would recommend starting by identifying what truly resonates with them. It might be a specific species, ecosystem, or environmental issue. Once you’ve found your passion, immerse yourself in learning about the topic. Collaborate with experts, such as scientists or conservationists, to gain a deeper understanding of the challenges and potential solutions.

    Networking is also crucial. Join organizations like the International League of Conservation Photographers (ILCP), which I co-founded, to connect with like-minded photographers and learn from their experiences. Engage with conservation groups and consider partnering with them to amplify your message.

    Lastly, use your platform to share your story. Whether through social media, exhibitions, or publications, make sure your work reaches the right audience. Remember, the power of photography lies not just in capturing stunning images but in inspiring change and motivating others to take action.

    In my own journey, projects like “Freedom to Roam” or the effort to help with the permanent protection of the Arctic Refuge have shown me the impact that visual storytelling can have on conservation efforts. By sharing compelling narratives and images, photographers can play a vital role in shaping public awareness and influencing policy decisions.

    What cues do you recall when your first realized your photography/filmmaking gave agency to the biodiversity and landscape, presenting the Arctic as worth protecting rather than just a barren energy resource? 
    I believe a big reason why conservation was such a big topic for myself from early on was me growing up in Germany. In Germany and across most European countries we had lost large interconnected wild ecosystems. While we have a 1000 year old castle around the corner from where I grow up, we had lost wild places. This feeling of loss, made me cherish the big wild places across North America. Whether it was the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem where we would still find bears, bison, elk and wolves, or the wild coastlines or the Arctic where the ancient caribou herds would still roam. There was never a time where I could look at these great arctic landscapes as “barren wastelands”.
    The fight for the Arctic Refuge has been going on for many decades and I have been involved with the Refuge for the last 25 years. It has always been a collaborative effort to fight for the Arctic Refuge alongside the Gwich’in People and many conservation organizations. My images and film work have been a central part in a lot of these efforts and campaigns. From big live speaking tours, many magazine articles to massive signature campaigns, like during the #ProtectTheArctic campaign that inspire millions to take action. This campaign resulted in an unprecedented 6 million comments submitted to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, effectively stopping seismic testing in the Arctic Refuge. Unfortunately, the battle the Arctic Refuge and other wild places is long lasting tug of war.

    What can you share about this image from your coffee table book, To The Arctic?
    I near a group of muskox bulls and find myself wishing for a musk ox’s coat to protect me from the weather. Their long guard hair hangs from their bodies like beautiful overcoats. Underneath, their wool is eight times warmer than the highest-quality sheep wool.
    I feel the gripping cold, especially on my face, where the snow crystals lash my skin like grains of sand. But I am excited about this turn in the weather. It allows me to create photographs that show a true Arctic scene, with conditions these musk oxen have to withstand many times in the course of the year.
    The wind becomes so intense that the animals almost disappear behind a curtain of blowing snow, their long hair rippling around them like soft cloth. I try to get close enough to capture their image before the sun dips behind the ridgeline. Dropping to my knees, I frame the scene as the last rays cast pink light on the musk oxen’s fur.
    Then something magical happens. Three bulls take off from the group, heading directly toward the setting sun. For an instant they are in perfect formation. The blowing snow is so thick that it makes the three bulls seem to float magically above the ground. A photograph of a lifetime-and worth everything I had to endure to get it.

    Patagonia celebrated your conservation work for ANWR in their Fall catalogs (2016 and 2024) both being election years, what feels different this second time around about impacts we can make as individuals and collectives?
    I’m honored to have been a part of Patagonia’s conservation efforts, including their campaigns highlighting the importance of protecting the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR). The recent “Alaska Needs You” campaign underscores the urgency of our collective action. What is different today after the recent election: “ Alaska Needs You More Than Ever! “ However, it is not just about Alaska; many wild places are under threat due to a wholesale mentality of exploiting public lands and resources, which will ultimately rob future generations of their natural heritage.

    The current landscape is complicated by attacks on democratic values, the environment, public lands, and marginalized communities. Misinformation is a significant obstacle, as it often misleads people into believing that exploiting public lands will benefit underprivileged Americans, when in reality, it primarily enriches corporations and billionaires.

    However, I remain hopeful. There is a growing recognition of the need for collective action. By coming together as a community, we can fight against these challenges and protect our planet’s biodiversity. The power of collaboration, as seen in campaigns like “Alaska Needs You,” demonstrates that when individuals and organizations unite, we can inspire meaningful change and safeguard the future of our wild places.

    One of the oil drill pads at the edge of the Arctic Refuge just west of the Canning River delta. Oil companies have pushed for opening the Arctic Refuge to the east of the Canning River for oil development. Canning River Delta, Alaskan Arctic

    You’ve called Alaska home for the past 15 years, a place where mining, drilling, and extraction remain real threats to land, biodiversity, how are you thinking about your work these days?
    Every day we are chipping away at the last open spaces and wild lands. The current administration is doing this at a massively accelerated pace. Unfortunately, it is the same old story that is repeating itself. The main difference is, that we have less and less wilderness around us and the speed of exploitation is ever faster. What I am planning to continue to do is fight the same old fight but with different stories and from different perspectives. I personally have to pace myself and also consider my children. If I will always bring up all the critical things I see it is hard for them to be joyful. All this consciousness weighs hard on myself and that gets passed on to them. I want to let my children go and see the beauty of this planet with their curious joyful eyes. So in the coming years, that might be part of the way I will tell stories for us to protect earth for future generations.

    What are you working on now?
    I am currently putting on the finishing touches on a presentation I will give at the Patagonia Soho Store in New York City on March 19th.
    At the same time we are in the middle of planning multiple expeditions across Alaska. This spring we are hoping to document bears coming out of their winter dens. We will also be working in areas across the vast coastal areas of Southeast Alaska and later in the summer across Arctic Alaska. My family will be part of many of the expeditions.



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  • The Daily Edit – Perrin James – A Photo Editor

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    Photographer: Perrin James
    Freediver: Kimi Werner
    Photo Editor: Jenning Steger

    Heidi: This stunning cover image intersects magic, nature, and those who respect her. – tell us the backstory around how you and Kimi met this moment?
    Perrin: Kimi and I were invited on a bit of a reunion trip with our good friend Edmund Jin, We had all traveled extensively for a few years together and we wanted to revisit some of our adventures. We were about 100 miles from the mouth of Isle Magdaleña. Every year there’s a sardine run that is usually met with striped marlin as the main predatory fish. But this year was a transitional year from El Niño to La Niña, and the ocean seemed to have exploded with a few different types of baitfish and millions of mahi mahi. We swam playfully into the bait balls until that mahi fish crashed into us. At one point a bull mahi caught me right below the eye and now I have the cool little scar to show from that one. Kimi was filling her spearfishing cup and preparing to bring back a bunch of Mahi for Buddy and Turk. I swam over and asked if could shoot this particular baitball. It was a different type of mackerel. This vortex of fish was just so beautifully formed. She swam up through the bait and came out with two fish one in each hand. We laughed so hard I think I drank some saltwater.

    How many covers have you two collaborated on?
    Perrin: This is our second Patagonia cover. I think we’ve gotten close to 15 though in the outdoor space, it’s been a beautiful journey of creating, and ocean time.

    Patagonia Cover, 2016


    BTS of their first Patagonia cover, published in 2016

    Nature reigns supreme as the ultimate producer. How do you know when you got the image and not overstay your welcome?
    Perrin: For this particular situation I think the bait fish were actually incredibly happy to have us. The moment we would swim away the ongoing feeding frenzy would continue. I feel that with my dive buddies and best friends we have language underwater that really doesn’t rely on speaking. it’s mostly hand gestures and facial expressions and occasional underwater grouper calls (a grunting noise that can be heard underwater. As soon as I shot this image I broke the silence communication and just yelled WE GOT IT.

    How did this photo come across your desk at Patgonia and ultimately make it as the coveted cover placement?
    Jenning: I received a text from Kimi post dive saying she and Perrin shot some on point Patagonia photos that she thought I would love. It was a few weeks by the time Perrin got home from Mexico and sent me the submission. Its always a treat when we receive Perrin photos as he is a remarkable underwater photographer and we love all things Kimi. I renmbember excitingly downloading his photo folder, after a quick glance I knew what they (Kimi, Perrin + Mother Nature) managed to create + capture was something special. I shared my top selects with the Patagonia Journal (catalog) team who shared the same thoughts I did that the image set was solid and captured the essence of Patagonia photography. My department manager Heidi Volpe helped secure the coveted journal cover. I emailed Perrin + Kimi and told them to keep the photo on ice for us, since the journal is print the lead times are longer but I was jockeying for some prime real-estate for the bait ball story + images and to please be patient as I pushed photo thru the process to image final.

    What does nature tell you about women in the water?
    Perrin: Women have a special place in the ocean. It’s always interesting the way whales and other cetaceans or even predatory fish that would typically be shy, always seem to swim directly up women in the ocean.

    What cues do you tap into when searching for a potential location to free dive?
    There are a number of factors that play into looking for a new freedive spot. I think the biggest one is the underwater architecture of that location and how the tide affects that location. It’s also seasonal just as surf follows the seasons, so do fish. Everything is timing ( at least for the best spots).

    Once you find the spot, what does your prep look like?
    I like to let people go first and watch the drift. Then work with the captain on how we can improve the angle of the current or the distance from the pinnacle or point of interest. If the current is fast you need a greater distance to breathe up enough before your dive.

    How does your creativity differ in these two worlds: immersion in the ocean vs terra firma?
    Oh I really do my best to do everything in the ocean or around it. I’m not very good at being on dry land for too long.

    Photo: Nick Kelly


    All black and white photos: Katharine Kollman


    Photo: Geoff Coombs
    After so many years in the water, what are the most drastic changes you’ve seen, what can everyday people think about or what behaviors can we change to avoid further ocean impact?
    I always think about the saying (well you should have seen it in my day). that is usually coming from much older people. I feel that I watched it change drastically from a kid till now and again once I started traveling oceans and revisiting places only a few years later.

    Single use plastic is an easy one but also just being conscious of the type of fish you are consuming and where it came from or more importantly how it was caught.
    The ocean faces challenges that are almost without borders however. I think there needs to be more attention addressing factory fishing and the global fishing fleets that are quite literally emptying the oceans.

    You’ve contributed to several films around the ocean as a healer, how did you expand as a creative after working on those two projects?
    I think my style of work has always leaned towards the darker more mysterious parts of the ocean showing beauty in the shadows and unknown. After working on Learning to Drown and Daughter of the Sea I think the importance of telling these types of stories was just amplified. The ocean helped me through the darkest parts of my life and I hope it can help others as well.

    What ocean-based projects are you working on now?
    We are just going into post production on the story of my friend Vaimiti, Its kinda a surf story but highlighting the cultural similarities and hardships that Hawaiians and Tahitians share through colonization and loss of identity and culture.

    The next project is a Freedivers journey through a traumatic brain injury.



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  • The Daily Edit – Aidan Klimenko talks about “wins” or “successes” stemming from work personal – A Photo Editor

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    Heidi: Your work has an impressive range – it would be hard to categorize. You mentioned your work asks questions. What questions you thinking about in your recent personal work.
    Aidan: I’ve always been drawn to photography because I’ve seen it as an access point to the world. A license to ask, to look, and to learn. Sometimes I find answers, but most often I just find more questions. With this current work that I’m making while in grad school, I’m taking my interest in landscape—an interest that’s been fostered in objectively beautiful places like Antarctica, the Amazon, and Patagonia—and applying it to the contemporary urban, corporate, and residential environments of Los Angeles.
    The questions that I’m finding myself thinking about while I walk around and photograph stem from my personal experience of moving to a big city for the first time after years spent living on the road, mostly outside in nature. LA is bizarre and layered. It’s a mix of so many things without really having a centralized, defined identity. And it’s home to a lot of this American obsession with concrete, stucco, and bright colored walls that I’ve been finding myself interested in using as elements to question our relationship with this environment we’ve built and surrounded ourselves with. I’m using this time in school to learn about creating work that provides space for the viewer to have their own relationship with the images—space to ask their own questions instead of making images that are limited by the answers they provide.

    It’s interesting, you’re challenging what a wall is – using that typology to question the meaning of a barrier or confining something. Is this an act of resistance in your mind?
    Yes, I think so. Or, at least it started out that way. When I first started walking around Los Angeles, it was easy to make work that directly contrasted the open air, natural landscapes that most would think of when they consider the term “landscape”. The images came easily, but quickly felt cliche. Somehow singular and predictable in their general pessimism. It’s easy to focus on the strictly negative–especially here in LA. It’s a dirty city with a massive unhoused population contrasted with insane wealth, all in and around and on top of itself. To treat it only as one thing—whether grimy or glamorous—would be a very narrow point of view. There are so many aspects to LA, and as I continued to walk and to photograph, I began to find myself interested in the complexity of these layers and in how they’re represented in the community architecture of subways, storefronts, traffic markings, and yes, walls. So much of it is colorful and built to look nice, but ultimately to direct or deter us in one way or another. Not meant to be comfortable. Liminal in nature. You’re allowed here, but only to a certain capacity and not for very long.

    And then, layered onto these surfaces of glossy colorful paint or polished steel are traces left—markings, scribbles, covered graffiti or hand prints that show a back and forth that is sometimes violent and other times subtle. Visual responses to this landscape, or in resistance to it.

    It’s been a fun exercise to shift from relying on obviously compelling subject matter (like penguins in Antarctica or secluded communities in Greenland) to make compelling images. I miss spending my time in nature, and I’m sure that’s seeping into my work. But this has been a very rewarding chapter that’s leading me in a direction that I’m finding quite engaging.

    Rather than responding to a market need and losing control of your photographic voice, you are staying true to your development.
    Hey, I’m trying! Your best work will always be the stuff you’re passionate about. I’ve always believed that leaning into finding and establishing your own voice as an artist will eventually lead to an identity that’s more uniquely yours rather than a style that looks like everyone else’s following whatever the latest trend. And on top of that the work that is the most fun to make often is the often strongest. Good things come from good work so I try to stay true to making work that inspires me.

    I’m still very much on this path of finding my visual identity and am constantly reminding myself to prioritize making work that gets me excited. But doing this is easier said than done, especially when you depend on your artistry for income. In my 20’s, my answer was to live in my truck. By not needing to keep up with rising rent costs I was able to pursue projects that I resonated with rather than having to sacrifice my vision to pay bills. But I recognized this as somewhat temporary solution—despite lasting 7 years on the road without paying rent!—and not likely a sustainable long term path that would lead to the things that I wanted for adult-me, like a stable family lifestyle. Now that I’m in LA, married and starting a family, things have changed and that discipline of staying true to the work that inspires you is much more difficult. LA is an expensive city and my continued path of finding my place within its working professional photography scene has not been a direct one or particularly easy. But it’s led me to some interesting places—some of which have resonated in surprising ways, like commercial fashion and architecture and others not as much. I’ve tried to remember that it’s hard to know whether or not you like something without ever trying it. There are lessons to be learned in even the most unexpected places and on the most unpleasant of jobs.

    How do you exercise discipline and fight the temptation of trends?
    I’m as tempted by trends as anyone and I’m happy to experiment with new ideas and see what sticks. I take with me whatever I think I can use to get closer to my evolving identity and leave the rest behind.


    How does fashion and architecture interplay in your images, does one inform the other?
    I’m curious about what connects us, both across continents and within our communities. My work has always touched on environment, sometime on a personal or cultural level and sometimes in more remote, abstract ways. But even when I’m in the middle of nowhere I’m thinking about how we are affected by these places and how we in turn affect them. Fashion reflects how we present ourselves to one another socially—how we choose to either fit into a social environment or stick out from it. One of the many “threads that connect us” if that’s not too on-the-nose. And I think architecture deals with how we as a society choose to interact with our physical environment. The building materials we use, the colors we choose, the space we give ourselves (or don’t) reflects so much about our societal values, our place in the world and our relationship to it. The work I’m making in school is architectural and while it doesn’t directly feature people (yet) it is still very much about people.


    Your Antarctica work is a sharp contrast to your state fair work in both tools and approach. Tell us about the approach for each.
    Both my Antarctica and State Fair work are ongoing projects and contrast each other (and themselves) as they are both unfinished collections of images made over the span of a few years and a few different developmental stages in my photographic path. I’ve had the privilege of having visited Antarctica a handful of times since 2019, and each time I go down I’ve experimented with different viewpoints and perspectives. This often manifests in a variety of obsessions with different cameras and the aesthetics that each camera system provides. From grainy black and white 35mm to color 4×5 film to digital medium format… who knows where I’ll be in my journey of endless experimentation the next time I get the opportunity to get back down there.

    As far as the State Fair goes, my wife’s family runs a chocolate chip cookie company at the Minnesota State Fair. I was never a big state fair goer growing up but since it now looks like I’ll now be going every year to bake cookies until the end of my days, I figured I’d better make some images along the way. I started with my 4×5 over my shoulder finding quieter moments amidst the dusty chaos of fried food and farm animals. The 4×5 is an ice breaker. People are curious about it and much more willing to have their photo taken than when I carry a more “normal” looking camera. But after starting back at school I was tasked with trying something completely different. Give up control. So I decided to lean into the chaos, ditch the tripod, shoot digital, play with flash, and shoot from the hip (maybe glancing at the camera’s fold-out screen, maybe not). I’ve recently been combining the 4×5 images with the digital in editorial pitch-deck PDF’s with the thought that it shows the breadth of my technical skills while covering a single event.

    After commercial and editorial success, here you are back with creating more personal work – asking more questions – what are you hopes for pushing the personal body of work?
    I’ve written like 10 different responses to this question and still don’t know if I’m any closer to being able to answer it. I’ve been pushing into the commercial and editorial worlds and I’ve certainly had wins here and there but I have by no means found any sure-footedness in either. While I continue to pursue financial stability I keep coming back to the mindset that I mentioned above: make the work that makes me feel something, at any cost, because that will be my strongest work. All the “wins” or “successes” I’ve had seem to have stemmed from work that I’ve made solely because I’m passionate about it. Personal work.

    However, when I was last in South America making Autopista Autopsia, I wasn’t quite able to find the creative flow that I’ve heard other artists talk about. I was pushing my personal work in a new direction but I was having a hard time knowing how to get there. Listening to interviews and reading about the making of projects and books that I’ve always looked to for inspiration, I would hear stories about how one image would effortlessly lead to the next or about how good it felt to be making the work that artist was making. I, on the other hand, was feeling blocked up and I didn’t know how to move past feeling like I was forcing the work. On top of it all, I didn’t feel like I had the right community to turn to for constructive criticism. For too long, I was using social media as the only arena for showing personal work and getting feedback.

    I needed help rethinking my creative process and reestablishing my relationship to the medium altogether.

    The pursuit of a MFA in photography will absolutely not provide a road-map to success in the commercial world. In fact, if anything, it’s sure to steer me in a completely different direction all together. Though I do think it will bring me closer to creating work that points me towards the core of my artistic identity. And the stronger the personal work that I can put out into the world the more likely it’ll lead to that next “win”.

    I won’t ask you about your truck, when was the last time you heard from the previous owners?
    The truck! The previous owners are a Swiss couple who are currently living out of their van somewhere in Europe. We follow each other on Instagram and I drop them a line every few month with photos or with mechanical questions about this or that as all the manuals they left me are in German. It’s a very wholesome relationship that I hope to have with whoever I pass the truck along to, someday, maybe.



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