When I first picked up my camera, it was as a tool for documentation. My early years in Law Enforcement taught me to use photography to capture evidence, to tell difficult truths, and to seek justice. That work was demanding, and when I had to leave my career earlier than I expected, it left me with a lingering desire to still help others—a sense of unfinished purpose that I carried with me.

When I turned my lens toward the wild landscapes of Alaska, my purpose shifted. I wanted to celebrate and protect the resilience of nature, the soulful bond between humans and animals, and the wisdom of Indigenous cultures. My images became meditations on beauty, vulnerability, and the urgent need for conservation.

For a long time, I saw my work primarily as advocacy. I hoped my photographs would inspire others to care, to act, and to see the world with new eyes. But recently, I’ve come to understand that my images offer something more—something I hadn’t fully appreciated.

A turning point came when I received a message from a respected colleague and good friend. They shared with me how much my photography meant to them personally, describing how the beauty of my images helped to refresh their heart and soul.  Hearing this from someone whose opinion I deeply value made me pause and truly reflect on the impact my work can have—not just as a tool for advocacy, but as a source of comfort and healing. In a world that often feels chaotic and uncertain, my glimpses of nature offer others a moment of stillness and hope.

This realization has deeply humbled me. I never set out to create “soothing” art, but I now see that the peace I find in the wild is something I can share. The quiet of a snow-covered forest, the gentle gaze of a wild animal, the endless sky over the tundra—these are not just scenes to be admired, but invitations to find comfort, resilience, and healing.

As I continue my journey, I am more grateful than ever for the opportunity to connect with others through my work. If my photographs can offer even a small measure of peace, then I know I am on the right path—not just as a conservationist, but as someone who, even after leaving a previous calling, still finds meaning in helping others.

Thank you for allowing me to share these moments with you. May you find your own peace in the wild places, and may we all remember what is worth protecting.

All the Best,

David