Before I Forget. 001
In my memory, this was the first real photography shoot I ever found myself on. So Before I Forget:
Jordan Killpack, one of my earliest inspirations when I started picking up the camera, invited me to tag along on a project he was working on for Stetson.
As we drove into the remote stillness of Idaho, the kind of terrain that only reveals itself to those willing to go looking, we arrived at the ranch. The guys welcomed us with a handshake that only decades of ranch work can give.
Rough. Calloused. Strong. And the kind of eye contact that humbled my self-proclaimed title of “outdoor man from Idaho.”
It was cold. Properly cold. Snow covered the ground, and every stalk of grass, fence post, and rusted-out truck wore a coat of frost. It was the kind of cold that cuts to the bone. But when you’re surrounded by men like that, there’s no room for bitchin’ and moanin’. (Though I probably did to Jordan, once we were out of earshot.)
Technically, I was there to “assist” Jordan. But looking back, I think that was just his way of making me feel welcome. I wasn’t lugging gear or following orders. I was simply there to be there and I witnessed the way he worked. That day quietly shaped the standard I would come to hold for my own work. And seven years later, I think I’ve finally started to lean into what I learned back then.
Jordan shared his former career in finance, how it led him to Europe, and how he eventually leapt from the safety of it all to pursue something else ultimately landing in Africa. He was the first person I met who had chosen a different path, one that didn’t follow the script we’re all given. I don’t know if it was something he said or maybe just the way he was, but it lit a spark in me.
And that spark has been illuminated the way ever since.
That day has become a core memory. A reminder of the power of bearing witness. Of telling someone’s story in their own environment, with as little interference as possible. To let life happen, and to catch it in the middle of unfolding.
I’ve come to realize that the feeling I got from taking those images is what I’ve been chasing all these years. Capturing life as it is, not as I stage it. In my world, I can only plan so much. Spontaneity is where the good stuff lives. It’s what breeds emotion, atmosphere, and honesty.
After all, who am I to tell a man, who wasn’t even sure how to reach us by email, and me would didn’t know how to saddle, let alone, ride a horse, how to be a cowboy for the sake of a photo?
His job was to be a cowboy.
Mine was to capture it.
I don’t believe in “the best frame.” And I’m not a god-fearing man. But theres been moments where I’ve felt… Allowed? Blessed? Lucky? Guided? To be there. Leaning on instinct, and with enough experience now to trust it. The best frame isn’t technical. It isn’t even universal. It’s the one only you could take. Because you were there. And no one else could, would, or should have captured it that way.
So for this, thank you, Jordan.
