10/16/2026
connect the dots
There’s a side of being a motorsports photographer that I don’t think people always understand, especially when they compare it to the way I approach wildlife photography.
They are two completely different worlds.
When I’m photographing wildlife, I can present my work much more openly. I can share higher-quality images, use fewer watermarks, and generally let the photograph stand on its own as art. There’s a completely different relationship between the subject and the photographer. An osprey, eagle, heron, or any other animal isn't going to come after me online because I photographed it in its natural habitat and claim that because it’s their picture, they somehow own the photograph. It isn't going to download my image, make it its profile picture, put it on a Facebook cover, print it at home, run it through AI to remove the watermark, or argue with me that because it's a picture of them, it's their right to use it.
Drag racing is completely different.
I have always put multiple watermarks across my motorsports images, and I always present my photos online as lower-quality previews. That isn't because I think my work is more important than anyone else's. It's because image theft is incredibly common.
I've had people literally tell me, "That's my car, so that's my picture."
No.
That's your car.
I took the photograph.
Those are two completely different things.
And unfortunately, I've had to deal with that mentality more than once. People will take an image that was never intended to be a free download, remove the watermark, manipulate it with AI, crop it, alter it, and then use it as though they created it or paid for it.
I've even dealt with this from a local drag racing news outlet, Drag Coverage. They took issue with my work, and rather than even wanting to hear my side of what goes into creating the images, the time involved, the travel, the equipment, and the fact that this is literally how I try to make a living, I was essentially dismissed with the attitude of, "You were at my event, so it's my photo."
No. It isn't.
You held the event.
I took the photograph.
And that's exactly the kind of mentality that makes me have to rethink how I approach this entire side of photography.
Because now, every time an event comes around that I covered the previous year, there's another thought in the back of my head: How many of my photographs are going to be used this year as a lock-in photo, an event graphic, promotional material, or some other piece of advertising for an event that I was never paid to provide those images for?
That's something I shouldn't have to wonder about.
And just because a photographer with no boundaries, no backbone, or a different business model has previously done work for free or for little to nothing for you doesn't mean every photographer is going to operate that way.
It doesn't mean every photographer is going to let you walk all over them because somebody else did.
If someone has chosen to give their work away, that's their decision. I don't hold that against them.
But you don't get to take their decision and turn it into an expectation for everyone else.
My time has value.
My equipment has value.
My travel has value.
My experience has value.
And the photographs I create have value.
And what's especially frustrating is that this isn't some universal attitude toward my photography.
National Geographic has shared some of my wildlife photographs before, and when they wanted to use them, they actually asked me for permission.
That's the difference.
One side understands that there is a photographer behind the photograph.
The other side sometimes sees a picture of their car and assumes that automatically makes the photograph theirs.
And there’s another side of my photography that not a lot of people in the racing world are aware of.
I’ve been shooting commercially and for magazines for many years.
I understand the rules. I understand the legal side of photography. I understand licensing, usage, copyright, and what I can and cannot do with the work I create.
I'm not some guy who went out and spent thousands of dollars on camera equipment without having any understanding of what I'm doing or what the rules are.
If anything, I probably overthink it.
I regularly stop and question my own actions to make sure I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing and staying within the lines. I think about the legal side, the ethical side, the business side, and how my work is being presented.
So if that doesn't tell you where my mind is at when it comes to my photography, I honestly don't know what else I can say.
And that isn't me being greedy.
It's me protecting the thing that actually pays for me to continue doing this.
There is also a major difference between the way I approach a racetrack and the way some other photographers approach one.
I'm not showing up at a track to become a personality. I'm not trying to become the guy everybody knows because I spent the weekend walking around talking to everyone. I'm there to be a photographer.
I'm there to capture the cars, the people, the moments, the atmosphere, and the memories that somebody might want to purchase and keep.
And there's a huge financial difference between photographers who arrive at an event already paid for and photographers like myself.
There are people who have sponsors, organizations, teams, or publications covering their travel, expenses, gas, lodging, or photography fees before they ever pull into the gate. That's great. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.
But when you've already been paid to be there, your relationship with the event is naturally going to look different.
You can spend the entire weekend talking to people. You can give away more of your work. You can be more relaxed about how your images are distributed because you've already collected the paycheck.
I don't have that luxury.
I've driven thousands of miles to racetracks with thousands of dollars worth of camera equipment and absolutely no guarantee that I'm going to make a single dollar.
I show up because I believe there is something worth photographing.
Then I photograph it.
Then I hope somebody wants to buy it.
That's the business model.
So when someone sees a heavily watermarked motorsports photo and thinks, "Why doesn't he just give us the clean version?" the answer is pretty simple:
Because if I give away the thing I'm trying to sell, I'm taking away the only opportunity I have to make that trip worthwhile.
That doesn't mean I don't love what I do.
Actually, it's the opposite.
I love it enough to keep putting myself in the position of traveling from track to track, spending the money, carrying the equipment, standing out there for hours, shooting thousands of frames, editing them, organizing them, uploading them, and trying to turn that work into something sustainable.
I'm not interested in having sponsors dictate who I have to be or what I have to represent just because they paid for me to show up.
I'm interested in being myself, photographing what I see, and letting the work speak for itself.
And that's probably part of why I've struggled to find exactly where I fit into the drag racing photography world.
Last year, I was going track to track to track, back to back to back. I enjoyed every damn minute of it. There isn't a single event I went to that I would say I didn't enjoy.
But enjoying something and having something benefit you are two different things.
This year I've been much more intentional.
I'm asking myself whether a trip is actually moving me forward. Is it helping my photography? Is it helping my business? Is it helping me build something? Is there a realistic opportunity for the work I'm putting into it to come back to me?
Because if the answer is no, then continuing to do the exact same thing simply because that's what I did last year doesn't make much sense.
That's not me abandoning motorsports photography.
That's me trying to figure out how to make it sustainable.
Wildlife photography allows me to approach photography from a much more artistic and open perspective.
Motorsports photography requires me to approach it as both an art and a business.
Those two things aren't contradictory.
They're simply two different worlds.
And I'm still trying to find the balance between being the photographer who genuinely loves what he does and being the photographer who can actually afford to keep doing it.
