I seriously, honestly didn’t even know why I bought the OM-3. Professionally, I was already using tens of thousands of dollars of full frame and medium-format cameras, so why would I need another camera system?

Honestly: I just thought the OM-3 LOOKED cool. I thought I’d buy it, make a few YouTube videos about it, and move on.

Something happened though: this thing won me over.

Every intricate detail is designed with precision and delight, and the more I used it, the more I realized it’s a camera destined to become a legend. I call it Optimus Prime because it’s my favorite camera of all time.

I wasn’t ready for how much tech was packed into the solid but diminutive body. This is a stacked sensor, no-holds-barred, cutting edge camera designed with a throwback, retro-inspired body. The bonus: when I held it… it just felt perfect.

Photography is a fusion between art and technology. Can we create works of art using equipment designed AS works of art? The OM-3 is the answer to that question.

A beautiful machine that helps me create beautiful imagery.

Using the OM-3 was my gateway drug to the rest of OM SYSTEM’s lineup.

First the OM-3, then a few lenses, then their other flagship camera, the OM-1 MarkII, and then a BUNCH more lenses.

Every time I went on a photo trip, I’d take all my gear, including the other cameras… but I’d never touch them. I’d use the OM SYSTEM stuff instead.

West Texas with the OM-3? Pure awesomeness.

Soon, I sold all my other stuff. OM SYSTEM’s cameras are smaller, lighter, cheaper, more versatile, more robust, and their cameras DO MORE STUFF.

They go more places with me, and fit into my life.

And now, something cool happened:

OM SYSTEM asked me to be their next North American Ambassador.

This is a huge honor, and I feel totally comfortable taking on this role because, if you haven’t figured it out, I LOVE THIS GEAR. I sold all my full frame and medium format cameras and lenses, and haven’t regretted it one bit a year and a half later.

(Note: for the curious, they don’t pay us to be ambassadors. I get some discounts, free repairs, and will be considered for select paid opportunities to test out new gear and speak at events.)

OM SYSTEM stuff is pure creative fuel. I’ve never been more prolific with my photography than when I bought these cameras.

Suddenly, I’m a street photographer in Chicago?

And then out in the country, I’m taking soulful, straight-out-of-camera, monochrome images of Sandhill Cranes too. I’m finally taking black and white images that I LOVE using that way-too-cool Creative Dial:

I never thought I’d be recognized for my photography like this. I never imagined I was good enough.

It’s wild to think of how all this happened.

A little more than five years ago, I was a high school teacher. I had been one for almost 20 years!

I never thought I’d become an artist. A writer. A photographer.

I couldn’t survive by making a living with my creative skills. Could I?

I had to learn fast because I quit my entire career in the middle of the day, and I haven’t looked back.

Photography has given me an income AND a way to let my secret inner artist express himself. It’s been an incredible gift.

I’m SUPER excited to be an ambassador, but this doesn’t really change much for me.

This newsletter, Megapixel Road, will always be more about the heart and soul of photography rather than focusing on gear.

Sometimes I’m going to geek out about cameras and lenses like this post, but more than anything, all I want to do is inspire you to get outside and have more fun with your camera, no matter the brand. (I just happen to REALLY dig OM SYSTEM. I was a huge evangelist for the system before they even approached me.)

Thanks for being on this journey with me. Let’s do cool things - TOGETHER.

(THANK YOU, OM SYSTEM! We are going to do some cool stuff!)

Buy the OM-3 (or the OM-1 MarkII) from YOUR LOCAL CAMERA STORE! Support them!

If you don’t have a store near you, please consider using this link to Rockbrook Camera - Nebraska’s family-owned photography store.

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Oh - and this post is 100% AI-free. Every title, sentence, misspelling, and mistake is mine, and I love that.

DEATH TO THE ROBOTS.

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

I was a pixel-peeper and would examine each photo for critical sharpness. If it wasn’t perfect, I’d nuke the photo into oblivion with the delete button.

Photography was not super fun back then. The constant push to be perfect wasn’t driven by my internal artistic vision. Instead, I wanted things perfectly sharp because I thought that’s what everyone else wanted.

This photograph I made a few days ago, I’m proud to say, would have made the cut. It’s a good one! It’s made with awesome equipment (OM SYSTEM OM-3 with the 90mm f/3.5 Macro) and the detail is INTENSE. But… who cares?

Even this one, also made recently, is a good example of being technically pretty good, but a little “meh.”

But you know what? I’ve got thousands of technically, boringly, “good” photos of flowers already in my library… and almost none of them have ever actually been artistically fulfilling.

Lately, the “art” part of my life has become increasingly important. As I get older, I want to keep trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do when I grow up.

I may never know the answers to those questions, but at least I’m gunna try, and I’ve been doing a ton of experimentation lately.

So, I switched things up with my garden photography and got weird.

I threw on a “spiral halo” filter I bought for $30. (not an affiliate link). It looks like this:

And it does THIS:

And it does this:

And this:

And all kinds of SUPER DUPER cool stuff:

ARE YOU SEEING THIS INSANITY?

I’ve been a “photographer” for over 20 years now, and I’ve shot far too many photos of flowers.

And for the first time ever, I’m smiling and giggling in the garden like a maniac. All because of a cheap filter that inspired me to “see” through the lens differently.

I started using my camera as a paintbrush:

I stopped clicking a shutter release. Instead, I was painting my sensor with nature’s colors.

My internal artist came alive and started speaking, and although I don’t have words to interpret what he said, I do have these photos.

Look… filters are old-school. I’m not re-inventing the wheel here. In fact, in the past, I always thought of them as a gimmick.

Why would I waste thousands of dollars on “perfect” glass when I was just going to throw a weird, cheap, gimmicky filter on it?

These photos. These photos are why, people!

During this little garden adventure, I continued to have fun with experimentation and proceeded to spray my lens with water:

It’s another trick as old as photography, but I feel like we’ve forgotten how much fun this stuff can be. We’re always chasing perfection. What happens when we let go of all that?

The energy I have had recently to discover new ways to play with light is providing me with a lot of artistic momentum... a drive to keep discovering new ways to “see.”

So I combined the spiral-halo filter with some water spray: pure joy.

After all these years, it’s finally become easy for me to name myself a photographer.

However, I used to say that I wasn’t an artist. (I am. So are you.)

I used to say that I wasn’t a writer. (I am. We all are.)

And I still don’t think I’m a poet. (That’s a lie. Our lives are poems in progress.)

The one thing I know more than anything else, though, is this: I have no answers, and I’ll never solve life’s big mysteries. But embracing everything possible in order to find our voice in the world, even by using a cheap filter and spray bottle, is worth the time and effort.

So here’s a haiku:

All the photos with the filter and water were made with the OM SYSTEM OM-3 and two lenses: the 12-45 f/4 PRO and 20mm f/1.4 PRO.

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Oh - and this post is 100% AI-free. Every title, sentence, misspelling, and mistake is mine, and I love that.

DEATH TO THE ROBOTS.

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

I’ve never even shown anyone 99% of the botanical photographs I already have.

Yet I still spend hours photographing them every week.

Lately, the doom monologue has been amping up in my head recently.

These internal thoughts keep me from living in the present, and I find myself experiencing reality somewhere between the fear of the future and the regret of my past. It’s not a fun place to be.

So I make myself visit a garden.

Nature allows me to breathe and move. Spending time in these spaces quiets my incessant inner thoughts.

These walks force me to remember that even life’s most common moments can be awe-inspiring.

I can’t help but be present and aware of my smallness in the universe.

Yet I never feel alone here.

I weave through the fields of wildflowers, trying to do as little damage with my footsteps as possible.

I pay attention to vibrant splashes of color.

Details that reveal hidden worlds.

Beds of softness.

And pastel dreams.

All of this: a reminder to rest.

And to see.

And to let go.

(Photographers - these were shot within the last few weeks with a bunch of different cameras: the OM-3 and OM-1 MarkII, as well as the GFX100s and Sony A7Rv)

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

Sometimes at my incredibly advanced and decrepit old age, my body hurts just getting out of bed… so why would I go out on a mini photo adventure in crappy conditions?

I weighed the choice of staying at home to dwell in existential dread, or leaving the house to go on a mini photo adventure through the country.

I’m so glad I walked out the door!

I chose one camera (the OM SYSTEM OM-3), and hit the road.

CHAPTER ONE: NEFF SCHOOLHOUSE

I often go to the same places, and the Neff Schoolhouse is one of my favorite spots.

I used my camera to dial-in some monochrome looks to match the gloomy, overcast skies.

I love this place. It’s got a feel to it, resting in retirement on the crest of a gentle country hill.

I can’t find much online about this school at all, except that it was once a part of the town of Spiker. According to a post I found, a fire burned most of Spiker’s business district and that was it. No more town.

Today, this old place is all that remains… and one day there will be no trace at all of Spiker, NE.

I can imagine schoolchildren looking out this window into endless fields:

CHAPTER TWO: SCRIBNER, NEBRASKA

Not far from the Neff schoolhouse, I drove to the town of Scribner.

Unbelievably, even thought it’s pretty close to my house (60 miles away), I’ve never explored main street before.

I LOVE details on these old buildings, like this Opera House.

CHAPTER THREE: SNYDER, NE

I’ve probably been to Snyder, Nebraska five or six times. Maybe more. It’s a much smaller town than Scribner, but it’s got some real charm to it.

At this point I switched to color on my OM-3’s Creative Dial because the grey skies were clearing. The light was wonderful.

CHAPTER FOUR: DODGE, NE

Dodge proudly declares itself the home of Joe Strecher, so I went into town searching for him.

I only found out later that he’s a long-dead professional wrestler (world champ!), but if he were alive today, I bet this would have been his car:

Most of these old towns have very cool (but usually abandoned) town halls.

I wish newer buildings had such unique characteristics.

Dodge also has, what I call, a “Creepy Jesus.”

There are a lot of these “Creepy Jesus” cemeteries all over the country, and finding them is one of life’s great joys, even if they can be nightmare fuel.

INTERMISSION: ZION PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

The evening was coming quickly, and I honestly didn’t want to be out too late. My family was at home, and I wanted to spend some time with them (by this time, I’d already been out for about five hours on the road.)

However, I couldn’t help but snap a few shots of this spot:

I’ve been here at least three times previously.

It used to look quite a bit different, and I had heard at one point someone was going to fix it up.

This was in 2020:

CHAPTER FIVE: THE WAYNE, NE CHICKEN SHOW

Getting out of the house means experiencing new things, like this “Chicken Show,” which is obviously kind of a big deal, and I had no clue when I left in the morning I’d end up here.

There was a lot of stuff going on.

The star of the show for me, though, was the car show.

I’m not “really” a car guy… but my dad was a body shop mechanic for 90% of his life, and he and I would bond over talking about cars and going to car shows.

He would have LOVED this show.

I walked these streets and thought of him. I miss him a lot.

We would have bought hot dogs and soda, and slowly walked the streets. He’d talk endlessly about the different engines and history of the cars.

Car shows are endlessly colorful and fun to photograph.

I have a feeling this Chevy would have been my dad’s favorite of the show:

My favorite though, without a doubt: this incredible Plymouth Superbird. It’s a car that was only produced for one year (1970) and sold so poorly they were deeply discounted on the lot.

I remember my father telling me the story of this car at a different car show, decades ago. He would have said, upon seeing it, and with grave seriousness: “I should have bought one.”

The older I get, the more I realize how little time I have.

I don’t want to watch TV, or pick up my phone to read camera reviews.

Trips like this are a reminder that experiences are everything.

Living real life is leaving the house, and on this day, I’m incredibly grateful I did.

I made a video (a little more camera-centric) you can check out here:

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

It was the 91,311th time the sun rose over a country called America.

Two hundred and fifty years! YAY!

Let’s blow up the world.

I’d be there to document it. My plan: hit the streets with my camera and a tripod to document how my fellow Americans were celebrating.

But my heart wasn’t into it.

As people all around me were laughing, singing, and displaying their flags dressed as Uncle Sam, I felt disconnected.

I put my camera away and almost went home, disgusted with myself for not completing this little “project” of mine.

Then, I noticed a strange and much quieter area near me:

I was mesmerized.

So much of my photography is guided by emotion, and I felt something real as I walked these haunted neighborhoods.

I kept asking myself: what does it mean to be an American patriot in 2026?

Is something wrong with me if I don’t feel like shouting: “Team America: FUCK YEAH!”

Why was I exploring empty streets, alone, relentlessly looking away from the exploding horizon?

I don’t know the answer to these questions.

But I think the answer’s here. Hidden in the monochromatic night.

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

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The world aligned.

The angels sang.

The storms sound echoed through every bone in my body.

Athletes call it being “in the zone,” while others call it being in a “flow state.”

No matter who calls it what - I was there - connected to the universe as thunder reverberated off the concrete and steel of Chicago’s inner city.

I’ve never taken real photographs in Chicago before, and I’ve never photographed within the heart of a torrential downpour. Yet here I was, a camera to my face, walking through the city taking photo after photo. I was barely conscious of being 100000% drenched from head to toe.

Instead, I just “felt” the scenes in front of me.

It’s hard to describe being in a state like this. Although I’m a 99% manual-mode guy, I never once thought of shutter, aperture, iso, or anything camera related. Every step I made was in alignment with myself and my surroundings, and my job was to let myself (and the camera) absorb all the light, shadow, and color.

I had to let go of “myself.” My ego, fear, insecurities, confidence, jealousy, rage - all of it vanished.

I had one thing left: clarity.

The photos themselves are “flawed” by traditional standards (not always in focus… my settings not always optimal… my composition sometimes skewed), but that’s how life is. It’s how reality and the universe is.

This thunderstorm in Chicago was a reminder that I shouldn’t be chasing perfection with my photography.

I don’t need perfect lines, razor blade sharpness, or posts custom-designed to delight an algorithm.

Instead, I need to accept what the universe has in store for me.

I need to get into the rain and away from myself…

(Photographers - all photos taken with the OM SYSTEM OM-3 and 12-45mm f/4 PRO.)

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

He was born and raised here, but said, “There’s nothing to take photos of here. I’ve looked everywhere.”

The more I head out into the Nebraska countryside, often to the same places, the more I disagree with him.

There’s something truly special about many of these places, and I recently went on a single-day trip through a few small communities.

I want to take you along for the ride.

EXETER

The first stop: an old school in Exeter, Nebraska.

Exeter has a population over 500, and is one of a string of towns named by the Burlington railroad in alphabetical order (along with Crete, Dorchester, Fairmont, Grafton, Harvard, Inland, Juniata and Kenesaw).

I took a few photos of the old high school while here. (Photographers: all the photos here were mostly shot with my iPhone using the mood.camera app, but I’ve got a few Fujifilm GFX shots mixed in here too, because why not).

The most famous person out of Exeter graduated here: Jeff Zeleny, who went on to win a Pulitzer Prize while reporting for the Chicago Tribune.

Before I left, I grabbed one quick shot of the business district:

GRAFTON

Not far from Exeter is Grafton, Nebraska, with a population of around 100:

I only shot a few photos of the high school, which is quite a large school for a place that was never very big. It’s now on the National Register for Historic Places.

This 1914 structure replaced an older schoolhouse, and the robust education offered here was meant to recruit students from the surrounding area.

A peek inside through the window:

I’ve seen a lot of these old high schools, and this school is REALLY big for how small Grafton is.

HEARTWELL

The town of Heartwell, Nebraska (population of around 80) is one I’ve never been to before, and it was a wonderful find:

Named after a Nebraska state senator, James B. Heartwell, this town doesn’t have much of a “business” district any longer.

The party’s pretty much over in Heartwell.

I talked to a town local, who said most of the buildings were burned down or damaged in fires over the years. He was in the process of fixing up this old schoolhouse/church into his residence.

I love small-town humor:

The Catholic church is still active.

Heartwell was also photographed back in the day by legendary photographer Arthur Rothstein:

Rothstein is famous for his work as a depression-era documentary photographer, and the man behind this iconic “Fleeing a Dust Storm” photograph taken in Oklahoma:

It’s kind of cool to see a historic photographer walking the same steps I took!

MASON CITY

Last stop on today’s small-town express is a fantastic place called Mason City, Nebraska.

About 150 people live here, and it’s got some incredible small-town charm.

There’s some cool history here. In the early 1900’s, the Harvest Homecoming Celebration drew crowds nearly 20,000 strong, and politicians of the time made it a must-stop campaign event.

Mason City also boasts having one of the oldest community bands in Nebraska that seems to be active to this day.

The town is an interesting mix of beautiful and broken.

Pure nightmare fuel:

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

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I thought the best photos were the ones on the magazine covers and contest winners, and I so badly wanted a “cover-worthy” photo. Just like everybody else.

It’s only taken more decades to realize that perfect sharpness and $4,000 lenses aren’t keys to “great” photography, and being like everyone else is just boring.

So lately, I’ve been in enamored with an almost objectively “bad” lens: the 75mm f/1.5 TTArtisan that I converted to fit my GFX 100s.

The GFX 100s is a beast: 100 megapixels of pure megapixel glory. With the right lenses, the information it captures in even the smallest details is unreal. It’s designed to be used with the best lenses produced to capture razor-sharp, world-class shots all day long.

And when I first bought the camera, I spent more than $10,000 on the best possible lenses. On a trip to Minnesota, the GFX 100s and those ultra-expensive (and heavy) lenses produced solid, incredibly sharp and contrasty images:

But I don’t “love” any of them. They’re too perfect. Too sharp. Too boring.

However, I also randomly took along the super-cheap 75mm f/1.5 TTArtisan, manual-focus lens I found for under $300. I wasn’t expecting much at all. I just wanted to experiment and see what the photos would look like.

I got back to my hotel room one night and started looking through all my photos, and then I came across this one. HOLY WOW:

(All the photos from here until the end of the newsletter are from the GFX100s and TTArtisan 75mm f/1.5.)

I stopped and stared at that photo for a bit. Could this TTArtisan photo actually be any good?

On one hand, it’s a totally messed-up photo. Yeah, it’s 100 megapixels… but it’s not 100 megapixels of “sharpness.” Even the leaf is slightly blurry, either from the lens being soft or because I missed the focus a little bit (easy to do with this having razor-think depth-of-field).

On the other hand, it was the only photo out of hundreds of other shots that made me look at it for longer than a second or two. It’s a photo that still makes look twice, a few years later.

Sharp or not, that’s meaningful.

Still, when it was time to show the client my work, I barely put any of these shots from the TTArtisan in the portfolio. I didn’t think the designers looking at the project would think they were “sharp” enough, and I thought they might think they are a little weird (they are).

After that Minnesota trip, I put the lens in the cabinet and… almost forgot about it.

But this year I’m pushing myself to be different, and I remembered that lens and its unique rendering characteristics.

How times have changed - I WANT THE WEIRD STUFF NOW!

So, I fired up my dusty GFX, slapped on the 75mm f/1.5 (literally electrical-taped to the converter mount), and headed out to the garden. I put vaseline on the filter in places (at the edges), and did my best to let light flood into its lens elements by shooting at various angles.

What I got is a stunning new series of photos I’m naming:

My vision for these is for my final selects for the project to be printed the size of a wall. I’m thinking 8-10 feet on the large size.

This series is all about ethereal gardens as places of imagination.

Simple fields of grass become dream-like, all fitting into the idea of what flowers might “see” when they close their petals in the absence of sunlight. I know science can explain this process and tell me that plants can’t dream - but I’m choosing to view the world with more “child-like” eyes lately.

It’s both artistic expression and mental-health exercise.

My goal is to keep photographing new flowers with this lens and editing style.

I’ll also be printing some of these on watercolor paper so I can actually, physically, learn how to paint on my photographs. Creating one-of-a-kind works of art is something I’d love to experiment with.

On many of these, you’d never be able to see some of my painted details on a computer screen. These are meant to be experienced large and in REAL FREAKING LIFE.

It’s amazing how many of these look like paintings even without doing much in editing. This next one is a photo that’s almost a straight-out-of-camera jpeg (I just lowered the contrast):

Finding ways to work with the fun lens characteristics to make dreamy images has been fun, and a challenge.

All of my drawings-on-photos were done with ProCreate on the iPad. These are sketches and experiments… my interpretation of small mystical worlds.

I know not all of these work. Some are heavy-handed. But I’m still having fun and creating interesting things.

What about YOU? Do you have any flawed, weird, or crazy lenses that you’ve put aside or forgotten about? If so - go out and see how using it might expand your creative photography mindset!

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

The crisp, dry A/C feels great, and television shows can be a little too tempting.

So it felt nice for us to get out of the house and go on a little adventure from Omaha to Des Moines.

(All photos - except a few noted at the end - taken with iPhone 17 Pro using the mood.camera app.)

It’s a 130-mile trip into Iowa that takes a quick 2 hours to complete. We didn’t have much of a plan, except to eventually make our way to Mainframe Studios for their First Friday art event.

We found ourselves first at the Des Moines Art Center. This place was wonderful to explore.

I forget how important it is for us as photographers to seek out and experience truly great art, from classic paintings and sculptures to entire architectural constructions, like the museum itself.

All the angles here weren’t just made to inhabit people - they were made to inspire them.

I was pretty sure this thing was going to come alive and get me:

While art galleries are made to inspire us to think, malls were designed to get us to buy. Here, in Des Moines, the Valley West Mall doesn’t have much to purchase.

But that doesn’t mean were didn’t have a blast exploring the well-kept, but definitely creepy, environment.

Many of the bigger plants are real, kept alive with wonderful natural light.

This is one of the saddest play areas I’ve ever seen. And kind of horrifying, as if it were designed by someone without emotions and who has never met children before.

The natural light and real trees are so amazing. But in the context of nearly everything being shut down, the vibe of the place was more slightly-ominous than calming.

And finally, we made it to our destination and saw more cool art. I didn’t take many photos at Mainframe Studios, mostly because it was so busy it was hard to move around. That’s good though. It meant people were out supporting the arts!

I liked this display from a local Des Moines photographer:

I really wanted this. I’m a big NIN fan:

I took these with an old 1970’s-era 135mm f/3.5 Minolta on a Nikon Z6iii, just to test it out. I like how it renders!

The last shot of the day, as I gassed up for our way home:

Each photo here is connected to a story in my head. My wife’s laughter, my son ignoring me with his headphones on, the chaotic sound of too many people jammed into small spaces, and my jaw hurting because I’m smiling so much.

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

I heard: why are you wasting your time on this stuff?

He was right, I said to myself: I’m wasting my time!

For a while, I changed what I was shooting and stopped looking for abandoned places.

I’d drive by some really cool old broken down barns, churches or schools, thinking to myself: it’s not worth it if there isn’t money attached to the outcome. Every time I passed a place by, I was crushed.

He wasn’t trying to hurt me, and was only being practical. I have always struggled (still do!) to make money off my photography, so he was trying to be helpful and nudge me in the right direction: take photos people want to buy.

But the question haunted me for a bit. I was paralyzed.

“What are you going to do with all those photos of abandoned stuff?” - his voice kept playing in my head.

I didn’t have a good answer.

Make a book? (That no one would buy.)

Have an art show? (That no one would go to.)

He was saying that abandoned barns, crumbling farmhouses, and collapsed grain elevators weren’t really sellable, and he’s kinda right. Very few people hang decayed houses on their wall. Nobody pays a photographer for shooting things that are falling apart, do they?

I shifted my photography. I started shooting the things I thought I could sell, like pretty flowers.

I was hyper-focused on getting the right light at the right time of day, so I could get those sun-drenched, sellable landscapes.

I was dialed-in to getting the “nicest” photos I could get. Golden hour. Perfect light.

I felt a little off.

I felt like I wasn’t being myself.

The pretty flowers were in focus and the landscapes looked fine, but I was missing something, and going out with my camera far less often.

Photography just wasn’t as much fun.

Abandoned places have always been meaningful to me.

They’re not just interesting textures and dramatic light... they’re stories.

Every collapsed farmhouse was someone’s dream once.

What I’m photographing is the remnants of human effort, hope and frailty.

I’m a photographer because taking photos is the only way I know of to communicate what’s inside me. I do it because I often don’t have words to describe how it feels to be me, and instead of screaming, I take photos.

It’s taken a while to find my way back to embracing these places gain - sales be damned.

And once I got back, almost immediately, I felt at home.

I started planning more and more abandoned trips, always remembering that there would be “pretty” things along the way. (I could get those too!)

I shot this:

On the way to photograph this:

My photography has seriously improved over the past year, and I think it’s because I’m embracing abandonment again. My Google Maps pins are multiplying (these aren’t even close to all of them).

I stopped taking photos for an imaginary buyer and started taking pictures for myself.

It’s been a wonderful lesson for me, and has actually made my “pretty” pictures more interesting. There’s a touch - just a tiny one - of darkness I’m trying to inject in them lately. There’s more “me” in the photos: weirdness and blurry details. Grain and messed-up corners.

I’m delving in deep into who I am. I’m finding the soul of my photography, and channeling everything I am into my photos, which means making them perfectly imperfect.

These incredibly beautiful garden scenes you see below are a little messed up. I’m using vintage, flawed, terribly soft lenses with some wild lens blur (sometimes modified with by putting stuff on my lens filters) and doing my best to find the heart of what I feel when I’m there instead of getting the cleanest, “sellable” photos.

I’m happier now.

Listening to our heart is difficult!

My mentor was right: selling photos of broken-down things isn’t super easy.

I think I’ve probably only sold a few hundred dollars of abandoned photos, EVER, but I was losing my will to go out and make new work by only focusing on pretty stuff.

I (you?) should remember that good mentors give well-meaning, accurate advice, but when that advice turns you into a robot, maybe give it a second thought!

This doesn’t mean ignoring everyone who challenges you, because being uncomfortable is one of the best ways to grow. Hard questions are good, and I absolutely do need to get better at selling my images, no matter what the subject matter.

But the way I took the advice wasn’t making me better. Instead, it was dulling my inner self. I was making my photos look like a million other photos of pretty things.

I’m still taking photos of nature, flowers, and golden-hour landscapes, but instead of the cleanest, most “sellable” photos, I’m gravitating toward this:

This:

This:

This:

And these:

Terribly, wonderfully imperfect, just like me.

Think about a subject you’ve quietly stopped shooting, not because you lost interest, but because the world around you nudged you in a different direction. Maybe your favorite subject matter never gets any Instagram likes. Maybe no one comments on the photos you hold dear to your heart.

Who cares.

Ask the question: who are you as a photographer? Dive into that. Focus on it.

I have always been asking myself what makes me stand out. How can I get images that are different from everyone else’s?

As long as I’m true to myself, I’ll get there. So will you.

So my advice to you:

Shoot what you love this week, even if nobody’s buying it (yet.)

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

I find that writing, even if it’s bad, brings me closer to my photos, and allows me to enter the scenes I point my camera at.

When I go back to these places (and I almost always go back), the stories I make up become part of the fabric of how I see the world.

I’ve written a short story below, and I hope you dig it. Also, I’d invite you to do the same - write about a photo of yours you love, and see the world inside the image come alive.

Chapter One: SOMETHING HAPPENED HERE

I walked this small town for a few minutes after I filled up with gas, and took the photo you see above.

As I often do, I stood in the street for a few minutes, imagining the people who used to live here, and the events that took them away.

Soon, an older man with a cane shuffled slowly towards me. He looked like he could be between 40 and 80 years old, all things being equal. People in these places age different.

Men like him are a common sight in nearly-abandoned towns: older people without much to do, keeping watch over the neighborhood. He stood next to me, uncomfortably close, looking at the house.

"Hey, I’m Jerred,” I offered. “I’m a photographer from Omaha.”

He didn't smile or react, and just kept staring at the house. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just looked at the house too.

"Do you know what happened here?" he asked after a few moments, his voice higher-pitched than I expected.

The man leaned heavily on his cane with shaking hands, and and his breathing was ragged. My grandfather had a cane uncannily like his: hand-carved with a deeply polished, mahogany snake head.

"No," I told him. "I just thought it was an interesting house."

The man’s face was serious, his lines sharp. His eyes, though, seemed younger, caught up in a distinct memory from the past.

"Do you mean the floods, is that what happened?" I was just trying to make small talk, and I remembered that this town had been rocked by devastating floods over the years. Many people had left.

He shook his head quickly: an adamant NO.

"It's probably better you don't know," he coughed, seemed frail beyond words for a second, leaning over with his eyes closed. He paused and collected himself. ”You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He spat then, almost angrily before turning and walked slowly away. I took a few more photos before deciding to return to my car.

I realized then that others were watching. I could see no one, but the feeling of eyes glaring is unmistakable.

My car.

Where was it again?

I wandered through the streets. Entire neighborhoods were in various states of abandonment.

I could hear screaming in the distance as I walked by this children’s park. It wasn’t a dangerous scream, or a warning. It was a scream someone makes when they lose something precious, something vital.

Was it me? Was I the one screaming?

I stumbled down side streets with the sun reflecting on twisted metal and warming the color of rust.

I searched for a way out, and found only remnants. All the people were gone, even if I could still feel them in the periphery.

The quietness was surreal, and it was more than a lack of sound. It felt more like a void, in that even the sound of my footsteps seemed to be swallowed by the old concrete and shattered glass.

The sun was bright and then it wasn’t, and cool winds prevailed while the sun started to fade. Things were falling apart. The rules governing normal things no longer mattered.

A voice. Then voices, all around me, reaching out from the past.

Was I trapped here, wandering the streets with whispering ghosts?

Maybe wandering these streets is where I’m meant to be. An observer of things lost, forever.

So… what did you think?

I do a lot of writing about my photographs, and I almost never share any of it. Most of the time, it’s meant only for myself, and it’s often really, really bad. Will there be a chapter two someday? Who knows? Who cares!

The creative act, in all its forms, is a lifeline for me, and maybe sharing a bit of my wild and crazy process here and there will help others along the way.

I have no idea what I’m doing, people. I’m just trying to hold on to as much of life as I can, and to create meaningful work.

So, give it a shot. Find a photo you like, or don’t like, and write a story about it.

If you do end up writing something, let me know and share. I’d love to learn more about your world - real or imagined.

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

It’s an important goal of mine, to grow the newsletter. I want to build community, and reach others in order for us all to feel less lonely. Consistency is important and showing up is powerful.

But sometimes, our brains don’t work right.

That’s been happening to me one million times more than I thought it would at this point in my life. The ups-and-downs are hard. Letting people down sucks. A few weeks ago I was full of hope, while the last couple of days, hope has seemed distant.

Here I am, with all my dreams having come true (a loving family, great friends, awesome cats, and a life full of the possibility for daily joy).

And instead, my brain is at war with itself.

This small town (in Texas? near Texas?) is a good illustration of what it’s like to peer inside me.

Still standing, but empty.

Full of broken things.

I’ve heard that it’s OK to sit with your sadness.

To recognize it. To honor it. And then to let it go.

So that’s what I’m going to keep learning to do.

The people who lived here moved on.

Because living in the past isn’t always good. Mostly it’s not.

We keep things we shouldn’t. We hold on to useless trinkets, like regret.

So this newsletter might be later in the day than I normally post, but it’s one small step forward, right?

Instead of being paralyzed by the damage I’ve wrought, I have one path:

Let go.

Step forward.

Repeat.

ALL PHOTOS: OM SYTEM OM-3 with the Pana/Leica 15mm f.1.7 (a fantastic combo!)

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

We headed to Loess Bluffs National Wildlife Refuge, and Jeremy planned our route. (Not really - it’s a loop, but Jeremy did a good job of studying the information we would need for photographic domination.)

Donna was excited:

I like being in the back seat because I can see more. For this trip, I was the spotter because my new/old shades helped me see better. “LOOK!” I’d yell, and Jeremy would slam the brakes. We make a great trio.

This is what me and my new sunglasses saw (and I haven’t seen Donna and Jeremy’s yet, but they are probably super awesome because I really couldn’t see much with these old, plastic, toy sunglasses):

Lesson 1: Find good friends.

Lesson 2: Find cool shades.

(ALL PHOTOS: OM SYSTEM OM-1 MarkII and OM-3 using the 50-200 f/2.8 IS PRO and the 300 f/4 PRO with the 1.4 teleconverter… except that last shot of the theater, that’s a mood.camera photo from the iPhone.)

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

The photos speak to me, and reminded me of why I appreciate OM SYSTEM cameras and lenses. (Note: this isn’t a sponsored post!)

Check out how this gear ALL FITS INTO ONE BACKPACK:

Inside is the OM SYSTEM OM-3, the OM-1 MarkII, the 20mm f/1.4, the 12-45mm f/4 PRO, the 50-200mm f/2.8 IS PRO (the lens I call MEGATRON), and the venerable 300mm f/4 PRO fitted with the 1.4 teleconverter. That gives me a range of 12 - 840mm (full frame terms) in a package so small it all LITERALLY fits in a normal-sized backpack.

None of it matters unless we take some photos, so let’s head out from Omaha to our first stop in Fortescue, Missouri:

HOUR ONE: THE OLD SCHOOL

I can find almost nothing about this old school, but it’s been a pin on my Google Maps for years.

It’s located in Fortescue, Missouri - a tiny town with only four blocks that operated with a post office for almost 90 years, but never had more than 51 people. This school’s size and stature seems to have been a statement: our children deserve this. The future is worth it.

Here, I chose the OM-3 with the 12-45 f/4 PRO using the creative dial to dial-in new settings for many of my shots based on mood and experimentation. (ALMOST all the photos on this page are SOOC jpegs, although slight cropping and quick edits were done in Lightroom.)

I was intent on experimenting with the OM-3’s extensive Monochrome settings (easily accessible with the Creative Dial) and taking some cool, moody shots.

These three illustrate just a few different monochrome looks that I can change in the scene using the creative dial:

The outhouse near the school was a lot of fun to photograph.

These two old trees perfectly framed the outhouse, and the contrast between the dark shadows and distinct bright paint was beautiful.

(From my sparse research, the moon carvings were the symbol used to mark women’s outhouses. It transformed at some point to become a symbol for all outhouses.)

The outhouse was fun to frame up and find a monochrome profile that would work with all the highlights and shadows in the scene.

I did try out some color profiles as well (grain added later since the OM-3 doesn’t, unfortunately, allow us to add grain to color jpegs).

HOUR TWO: THE CEMETERY

Next up, I’m back to my favorite little town of Corning, Missouri. Miraculously, I was able to control myself and only shot two photos in the town, both with the OM-3.

This one, of the old post office and jail:

And this one, showing how overgrown the town is since the last time I visited:

(And this is from a few weeks ago:)

This time I was just passing through as I was interested in the town’s cemetery, across the interstate and built into a hill (to avoid floods).

In the past, the place was so overgrown (and full of ticks) that it was hard to navigate. This is from a few years back:

I drove by and saw that someone had done a controlled burn here, so I could see much more of the cemetery than ever before.

I decided to use the 20mm f/1.4 PRO for these shots, mostly all wide-open.

Walking through a place like this can be humbling and a good reminder of our mortality.

I used the OM-3’s creative dial this time to add a border and Art Filter 16 to the JPEGs. Together, they give me a cohesive, interesting look to tie together the cemetery photos into a unit.

I happened to make a video about the experience here:

HOUR THREE: WILDLIFE REFUGE

I thought I’d just go home at this point, but a wonderful wildlife reserve (Loess Bluffs in Missouri) was only minutes away. Since I had the 50-200 f/2.8 and 300mm f/4 in the bag - why not head out there for an hour?

I’m pretty happy I did because I saw even MORE amazing things.

These White-faced Ibis were circling overhead the entire time. I couldn’t get any details, so I switched to monochrome and leaned into the silhouettes.

This time, the 300mm f/4 PRO (with the 1.4 TC) on the OM-1 MarkII took center stage.

The 300mm with the 1/4 TC gave me an 840mm focal length (full frame equivalent) for these birds that always stay JUST out of reach.

But soon I grabbed the OM-3 with the 50-200mm f/2.8 IS PRO as well and shot with both of these lenses.

The 50-200 f/2.8 IS PRO is, hands down, the best lens I’ve ever used. These are jpegs without an ounce of editing (warmth added in-camera).

I can’t stress that enough - OM SYSTEM has the best JPEGs in the biz. No doubt. These are incredibly rich, vibrant, contrasty and natural. The colors are incredible.

A shot with the 50-200, which is on my left shoulder with the OM-3:

A quick switch to my right shoulder and the OM-1 MarkII with the 300 f/4 PRO and 1/4 TC:

This post isn’t about me trying to convince you to buy OM SYSTEM stuff. It’s about the power finding the “right” camera system is for YOU. I just personally believe too many people pass on this system after hearing people who don’t know better tell other photographers that full frame is is everything. It’s not! OM SYSTEM is like a cheat code for photography.

For me (a guy who loves to eat), OM SYSTEM is like the best all-you-can-eat buffet ever. It has EVERYTHING I need in one small package, with image quality that astounds me.

The pipeline from my brain, to my eyes, to the camera and out to the world as a print is perfect.

OM SYSTEM matches my vision and can keep up with my needs for both creative (the schoolhouse and cemetery), and professional work (the nature reserve).

I’ve had over 10 Fujifilm X-Series cameras (including all their new 40 megapixel ones). Recently, I owned the Z8 and Z9 and a bunch of lenses for more than a year. I had had the Sony A7iv and A7RV and some G Master lenses. At one point, I also owned three medium format Fujifilm GFX cameras and seven giant lenses.

I’m so happy I switched.

All I need is a normal-sized backpack to tackle any adventure the world might throw at me, from in-the-field to on-the-wall.

NOTE: This post is not sponsored by OM SYSTEM, and I have no affiliate links to share. IF you are interested in an OM-3, however, see if your local camera store can get you one.

OR, use my local camera store, Rockbrook Camera (who has the OM-3 in stock and ships quickly!)

Let’s forget Amazon and buy local!

—-

P.S. - If you’re getting this, you’re probably already subscribed to my newsletter, but please share this with any photography enthusiasts who are looking for inspiration, tips and a positive photo community (no judgement here)!

And as always, send me any questions you have or topics you’d like to see me cover in upcoming newsletters or YouTube videos (you can subscribe here).

More than anything, even if you don’t purchase a print, subscribing to my YouTube channel, watching some videos, and leaving me a comment about what you think is a great, free, way to support me!

Comments? Leave them below or email me: jerredz@gmail.com

I initially bought the $1,500 Ricoh GRIV so I’d always have an “awesome” camera with me, but now I have no use for the GRIV.