The Encounter

The closeness of this gorgeous creature can give you pause. They can be dangerous—you keep your distance to avoid stressing them, to avoid getting charged. But damn, they're beautiful and you just want to stop and stare. There were a handful of people respectfully observing it from afar which just honestly added to the experience.

I don't consider myself a nature or wildlife photographer, but I knew I could probably make a photo. I had my little rangefinder and a 50mm and 35mm lens. Not something a wildlife photographer would carry for this type of work. But I'm there. I can appreciate natural beauty and serenity. I had to try, right?

The Doubt

I feel good about a few of the frames I grabbed. But walking away, the question came up:

Do these frames even belong on my 'documentary photography' website? Nothing documentary about this moment...

But is that right?

• What actually is documentary photography?
• Does nature count?
• Isn't my work to observe life? To be slow and present with what's happening?

The Real Question

As I'm writing this I realize I'm reaching a sort of impasse in my own line of thinking. Is this really about documentary photography? I feel swept up in a sort of philosophical rabbit hole about a genre of photography that is intentionally vague in approach, subject matter, and application.

If I step out of the path I started writing this post. I can acknowledge this has a lot more to do with me and what it feels like to be an imposter in a genre that feels historic, meaningful, and filled with people who are much more skilled than I am.

I've been making photos for nearly twenty years and for a really long time I thought adventure photography was my thing. I loved it because I love the outdoors, I love skiing, climbing, mountaineering. But I increasingly felt dissonant about the outdoor creative lifestyle. The work I was creating in pursuit of that goal started just losing its shine for me. I stepped away from that goal to make more personal work, to find something new, and maybe to heal some hard life changes.

My transition to documentary work grew from a desire to explore deeper connections between people and place, particularly after moving to Montana. It resonates deep down, and now I'm building a new body of work, awkwardly trying to figure out a more meaningful voice as I do it. And to re-enter photography with a fresh perspective.

I have this place I've carved out of the internet to put my work. Things that move me, observations I make. Moments in a life lived as an observer and participant. I'm really asking the question: "Am I allowed to post a photo of a cool goat on a mountain?" — about my own website. Because what does it say if I describe myself as a documentary photographer, and I post a bunch of randomness that doesn't fit within the genre? Doesn't that break some sort of rule about marketing, or branding, or presenting your best foot and best work? What if a client comes to my website and sees my goofy photo of goats and blacklists me from the Documentary Photographers list?

Finding Permission

If you're reading this and you're a documentary photographer—or trying to become one—maybe you've felt this too. There's a pressure to be 'serious' enough, to only show work that fits neatly into a genre or style. I felt the exact same pressure in the adventure genre. But we're all just people with cameras, noticing things, trying to make some sense of this 'make what you love and love what you make' dance.

I really don't have it figured out. But my gut tells me I should post whatever the hell I want here. I made the box I'm putting myself in, but perhaps sharing the work raw as it may be is how I learn and grow.

And now... here's a picture of a mountain goat.