I love the ocean. I love being in, on, or near the sea. When I’m on land, my favorite place is the coast—the intersection of ocean and earth. I love standing right at the edge where the fluid world and terra firma meet. Sometimes the union is chaos, with massive ocean waves crashing into seemingly unyielding granite cliffs. Sometimes it’s sweet, a shiny ribbon of water caressing the sandy shoreline. No matter what, it’s always interesting. And often awe-inspiring.

I love traveling and exploring new places. I have visited six continents, covering millions of kilometers by land, air, and on foot. I venture by boat, by tuk-tuk, by rusty rented bicycle and even by oxcart. At least two of my expeditions, one in the USA and one in Iceland, were by RV, which is kind of like driving a barn with wheels. The traveling part is often very un-sexy, but I’m sure you’re familiar with the old saying, “It’s part of the adventure.” It’s true. I try to embrace this way of thinking, even when flights are delayed, or when the ox is moving at a snail’s pace. I get there, eventually.

I’m a self-confessed map junkie. Geography is my jam. I spend way too much time scouring the globe’s coastlines on Google Earth, searching out places that might make good vantage points for my epic-exposure fotos. I’m also a weather nerd. Because once I’ve picked a spot on the map as my target, knowing the nuances of the microclimate is a fundamental method to my madness. I live for big. Big waves, big tide changes and big, puffy cumulus clouds pushed across the sky by just the right amount of wind. Still and small are boring. But big and dramatic? That’s where I can work the magic of stretching time. Extending time. Exposing time in ways that yield fotos that reveal more than the eye can see—even if you tried hard not to blink.

My work is not time-lapse fotography. And it’s not post-production computer-manipulated imagery, either. It’s all done in-camera. With time. And tenacity. And a crystal-clear vision of what I’m after before the shutter is tripped, before the tripod even goes up. And sometimes before I even set foot on the landscape. I create my earth and ocean scenes using what I call epic-exposure—leaving the camera’s shutter open for far longer than a quick snap. There’s nothing “insta” about it. Some exposures last 60 seconds. Some, more than 5 minutes. The resulting images lets you look beyond what is possible.