Chris Fischer Photography

13/05/2026

My dad used to take me fishing.

I think I was six months old the first time he brought me along. I can’t remember my first trip. Fishing has just always been there. We didn’t talk much. There weren’t life lessons or speeches, no reason beyond fresh air, calm water, and time together. He baited the hook, tied the line, showed me where to cast, made sure I didn’t fall in. He took me fishing , this thing he loved, he brought me to.

I didn’t grow up with grandparents who did much with me. My grandpa took me fishing once before he passed. Just once. He wanted a day on the lake, just me and him. I was still young enough to really want to go, and I still loved to fish. We sat on that little boat on some Texas lake. No talking. No fish. Just peace, calm, fresh air, time together. He passed not long after. I never got another chance.

As I grew, dad stopped taking me fishing. We didn’t stop going, he just stopped taking me. Instead, we went fishing together. One of those subtle shifts you don’t notice until later. I could tie my own line, read a river, place a fly where it needed to go. I could clean a fish better than most, and I’d caught more than my fair share. I’ve landed monsters, and he’s been there for most of them, watching me fall in love with that same thing. I wasn’t tagging along anymore. It became ours.

Life comes fast. Priorities shift. We stop making time like we should. Nobody means for it to happen, but it does. We forget what those things are. What they mean. We forget what it feels like to stand knee-deep in cold water, casting into a shallow pool believing the next cast will be the one. We forget the calm. The peace. We forget why we fell in love with those things, and who we have to thank for them.

We don’t notice the shifts. Parents aging. Time slipping. We see them forgetting what they love, but do we remember why we loved it in the first place? Why they took us? What it meant to share that thing with us?

My granddad took me fishing, but we never went fishing together.

Today I took my dad fishing.

02/03/2026

How can I be so lucky? I often wonder this in those late nights, those fits of laughter at a random bar in some random town. On the trains, plains, long car ride. Why me? To have someone that brings an ease of life, love, joy, happiness to everything I wonder why I’m the lucky one. There are hard days, sure. There always will be. Life is hard. And so is love. But good love is not meant to he easy either, instead measured in how it handles the hard. The difficult. Does it crumble under strain, or does it still hold those important things near, the joy, love, lightheartedness, kindness. Does it remind you both of what really does matters. To the woman that shows me; every day, what love is, happy birthday. I’m the lucky one because of you.

26/10/2025

18/10/2025

It’s nothing more than light and shadows

06/05/2025

I could post some long story about how this image was taken, what happened, why. But in the end, it matters little what the story was, what matters is what story this image tells. What story does it share? What do you see when you look at it? Why? This is what art is,transcending the past, and writing its own future .

04/03/2025

Only 23 days until I’m back in the Serengeti. But who’s counting

28/02/2025

Film permits are approved, less than 1 month before filming begins