Author: Richard Cox

Photography isn’t a job for me, so I don’t feel any pressure to constantly produce. That takes away the usual worries about motivation. My wife has a great way of describing the creative process: know the challenge, understand the challenge, and then wait for inspiration. I’ve found that to be true.

I’m also an avid cyclist and runner, which gives me plenty of time for that “wait for inspiration” stage. Ideas tend to show up naturally when I’m out moving, thinking, or simply letting my mind wander. Creativity comes more easily when there’s no deadline attached to it.

I have hundreds of photography books, and I return to many of them often. One of my favorites is Robert Hitchman’s Photograph America series — a fantastic collection of location guides that blend inspiration with practical insight. Art Wolfe is probably my favorite photographer; his sense of color, composition, and storytelling is unmatched. I also have many of Ansel Adams’ books, which continue to be timeless references. And I’ve always admired Galen Rowell, whose adventurous spirit shaped his photography. His life was tragically cut short during a night approach into Bishop Airport in California.

As for YouTube, I’m not drawn to gear‑focused channels. I prefer photographers who share their process — the thinking, the scouting, the mistakes, the creative decisions. Here are some of my favorites:

Thomas Heaton : A landscape photographer who brings viewers along on his hikes and location explorations. His videos focus on the experience of making a photograph, not just the final image.

Ben Horne: A large‑format film photographer known for his quiet, thoughtful approach. His work emphasizes patience, intention, and the craft of shooting 8×10 film in remote landscapes.

Gavin Hardcastle (PhotoTripper): A landscape photographer with a great sense of humor. He mixes solid instruction with playful storytelling — including his famous clip of slipping on the ice.

Nick Carver: A film photographer who dives deep into technique, exposure, and the discipline of shooting deliberately. His videos often explore the craft behind the image.

Peter McKinnon: A high‑energy creator who blends photography, filmmaking, and storytelling. He’s known for his cinematic style and ability to make creative concepts accessible.

Jason Kummerfeldt (grainydays): A film photographer with a dry, comedic style. His channel mixes genuine photographic insight with a laid‑back, humorous approach to shooting and exploring.

Yes, I do — but with limits. I’m not interested in replacing skies, adding objects, or creating fantastical scenes that never existed. That kind of manipulation doesn’t appeal to me.

I have used generative AI to remove things like a trash can and let the software fill in what was behind it. To me, that’s no different from what a painter might do to clean up a composition. I’m not a purist, and I’m not a photojournalist, so capturing a strictly “true” scene isn’t my goal.

For my work, removing distractions — trash, jet contrails, dust spots — is completely fair game. It helps the final image reflect the feeling I had when I took the photo, without the clutter that sometimes gets in the way.

I’m not sure I have any grand advice, but a few simple things have stayed true for me over the years.

First, the best camera for any scene is the one you have with you. Cell phones are real cameras — I’ve won first place in photo competitions with an image taken on a phone. Don’t underestimate what you can create with whatever is in your hand.

Second, take your time. Study your photos. Ask yourself what’s working, what isn’t, and how you might improve it. Revisit scenes after you’ve had time to reflect and learn; often the second or third visit produces the stronger photograph.

And finally, don’t get discouraged. When you see a beautiful photo book, it’s easy to imagine the photographer just “gets it right” every time. In reality, that book might represent 100,000 attempts distilled down to a few dozen images. Progress comes from showing up, shooting, and learning, not from perfection.

Most of my photography relies on natural light. I prefer to shoot at the camera’s base ISO — many of mine are rated at ISO 64 — because it gives the cleanest possible file. That said, I’ve learned to accept higher ISO settings when the situation calls for it. Sometimes the moment matters more than the noise.

I’m primarily a manual shooter and rarely use automatic modes. That doesn’t mean I avoid them entirely. For casual walk‑around sessions, I’ll often use Auto ISO, but with limits set so the camera never pushes the ISO higher than I’m comfortable with. It gives me a bit of flexibility while still keeping creative control.

I don’t rely on any one lens, and I prefer it that way. I let the scene dictate the lens, not the other way around. In fact, I stopped keeping a lens permanently attached to my camera specifically so I’m forced to pause and ask, “What lens does this moment really call for?”

That small habit keeps me intentional. It reminds me to respond to the scene in front of me rather than defaulting to whatever lens happens to be on the camera.

At the end of a day of photography, I import everything into Lightroom. My files are stored on disk in a structured, date‑based system organized by year and shooting day. For example, a photo taken on May 15, 2025 at 10:34:14 would be saved as: Images/2025/2025-05-15/REC-20250515_103415.nef“REC” is simply the photographer’s initials. This structure makes it easy to find any image later, no matter how far back it goes.

For storage, I use three identical drives. I synchronize my primary photo drive to the first backup drive, and then I keep a second backup drive at another location. Every so often, I bring the master drive to that off‑site location and update the backup there. It gives me peace of mind knowing that my entire archive exists in multiple places.

I don’t share RAW files, and I don’t use or distribute editing presets. If I ever create photo‑editing tutorials or a class, I might provide RAW files specifically for learning purposes, but not for general use.

As for presets, I’ve never been a fan of them. Presets tend to drive the photo, and I prefer to be the one making the creative decisions. For me, the image should come from intention, not from a predefined look.

This is a question I get a lot on field trips. People often ask, “What settings are you using?” and my response is usually, “What are you trying to say? What do you want to bring out in the image?”

I don’t follow a cookbook of camera settings, nor do I believe in one. The creative idea should drive the camera — not the other way around. Every scene, every subject, and every intention calls for something different. Once you know what you want the photograph to express, the settings naturally fall into place.

A lot of my photography locations happen by chance, but I do have certain themes I’m always on the lookout for. I’m drawn to old buildings that are still in use — places that show a bit of Americana still alive and functioning. I’m also constantly searching for unique landscapes, cityscapes, and oceanscapes.

Some themes are harder to find, like what I call “lollipop trucks” and other businesses with over‑the‑top façades — airplanes crashing through walls, trucks bursting out of storefronts, anything with a bit of playful exaggeration.

And because I’m a pilot and love aviation, I’m always keeping an eye out for interesting aviation scenes as well. Many of my favorite images come from simply noticing something unusual or compelling while I’m out exploring.