Russ Bishop | Russ Bishop Photography

June 25, 2026June 26, 2026

The Forest For The Trees

In today’s modern world of fast-paced digital photography it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the constant stream of new technology. Cameras, software and accessories are released at an alarming rate, and it’s easy to get caught up in the race to stay ahead of the curve. But it’s important to remember that first and foremost we are artists, and that technology serves the art and not the other way around. Don’t lose sight of the forest for the trees.

You can be sure Rembrandt didn’t lust over the latest brushes or Ansel Adams the latest developer or papers whenever their interpretation of light and shadow faced a challenge. Instead, they trusted their familiar tools even more to allow their hand and eye (the only lasting tools of the trade) to record the scene faithfully.

When you do upgrade your equipment (and we all do at some point) you owe it to yourself to thoroughly understand its features and functions. No one likes reading manuals, but it’s time well spent that you’ll appreciate the next time the light is fleeting and you’re focused on capturing the moment, not fumbling with dials or menu settings.

So purchase when you must, but don’t lose sight of the big picture. Put your energy into developing your vision and spend less time worrying about the march of progress. Art is about the seeing and no one will ever look at your images and say “that was made with a Nikon or Canon”. More likely, they will say “what was s/he feeling”!

The more comfortable you are with your equipment the more it becomes an extension of your mind’s eye and allows you the freedom to truly see the world around you. And that’s when your vision outshines all the other tools in your bag.

November 14, 2025November 14, 2025

The Path Less Traveled

Fresh snow on fall aspens and pines, Inyo National Forest, California

There’s been an ongoing discussion in the photography world lately about art and originality, that of creating images that are not the photographer’s personal vision so much as an attempt to copy the work of others. In extreme cases some would argue this isn’t art at all, but rather a mechanized form of duplication. The unfortunate result is that many photographers are no longer willing to share information about specific locations, and those photographers involved in the practice are missing the opportunity to show the world their own unique vision.

This trend is ironic given that we’re a country born of rugged individualism, and photography above all is a form of personal expression. But it’s no surprise when we are surrounded by such a lack of creativity in society today – movie remakes of 70’s television shows; advertisements using surprisingly similar images; and politicians repeating the same words as if they are uniquely their own. Perhaps this lack of originality is due to tight deadlines and too little time in our fast-paced world, or simply a fear of the unknown.

Before I head off on a shoot (especially if it’s a location I’ve never been to before) I thoroughly research the area geographically and geologically, and I’ll also review images of the area as a reference point to get a sense of place. But then after immersing myself in the details at home, I use the travel time to clear my head and fine tune my receptors to soak in whatever the location may offer.

Instead of previsualizing, I prefer to see a place through a child’s eye as if I’m the first ever to experience it. I’ll often avoid the obvious viewpoint whenever possible in favor of an angle that combines the key elements of the scene in a fresh, new way. When that’s a challenge, I’ll try a different lens or shutter speed or perhaps just wait for the light or weather to change.

So dare to be different and embrace the unknown! Find your own unique vision in photography and in life – and enjoy the rewards of the path less traveled.

June 19, 2025June 25, 2025

The Emotion of Motion

The Emotion of Motion. There’s something fascinating about visual movement that stirs our souls and creates a visceral response. I’m not referring to the exhilaration of skydiving or skiing down a mountain, but the more subtle visual connections we make while witnessing a dance performed on a stage, watching clouds race across a desert sky, or simply viewing a photograph of a silky waterfall frozen in time.

As photographers we have the privilege of stopping time or even slowing it down just long enough to give our viewers a glimpse of a world that can never be seen with our own eyes. We can illustrate a repetitive process over time such as a series of waves washing upon a shore, or create an abstract vision of color and form that has no resemblance to the natural world.

At these moments, there is a bond that occurs between subject and viewer that’s hard to put into words. Perhaps it’s our secret desire to slow the inevitable march of time or just a sense of voyeurism at seeing something beautiful that we know we shouldn’t be able to. I like to think of it as the emotion of motion.