About The Wild in Focus
Sometimes the best discoveries happen when you're not even looking for them.
Welcome to The Wild in Focus. I'm John Davis, a landscape and wildlife photographer exploring from Austin, Texas—but my story starts way before I ever picked up a camera, and honestly, it's not what you'd expect.
My Mission: Capturing Wild Adventures That Remind Us Why These Places Matter
I capture wild moments that inspire wild dreams, bringing the soul of untamed places into your home and heart. More than just photos—these are invitations to adventure. Whether it's the midnight sun's golden light hitting a mountain face in Iceland or a fleeting encounter with wolves in Yellowstone, I'm drawn to those moments that remind us how incredible this planet really is.
But here's the thing: I want my photography to do more than just hang on your wall. I want it to inspire you to get out there, explore our world, and stand up to protect the places that still run wild.
The Journey Behind the Lens (It's Not What You'd Expect)
Growing up in a modest family in Alabama, I was much more interested in staying on the couch than exploring outdoors. While my family traveled as best they could within their means, opportunities were limited. I participated in outdoor activities like fishing, but let's be honest—I preferred indoor comfort.
The turning point came during my time in Panama City, Florida. I started getting more into hiking for the scenery, which was actually a key factor in choosing Austin as my next destination when I moved here in 2018 for a tech job.
The accidental discovery that changed everything: As a new transplant struggling to make friends, I was open to any social connections. A coworker had owned a DJI Mavic Pro for a while, and I'd been asking about it constantly in conversations—I was genuinely curious about trying to fly one sometime. When he finally offered to show me during a park outing, I took some admittedly "horribly framed" photos on that first flight. But something clicked, and I've been trying to get wild places in focus ever since (mostly successfully).
Within weeks, DJI launched the Mavic 2 Pro. Despite trying to convince myself I didn't need it, I lost that internal battle—and made the purchase that would change my trajectory.
Then came "Austin Glow"—my breakthrough moment. On a late spring afternoon, I decided to take my new Mavic 2 Pro to the 360 Bridge—I'd never flown over water before and wanted to see what different shots I could get. I was still using auto settings and had only Googled the rule of thirds, so I had no business calling myself a photographer.
As the sun went down, the sky just started to glow in a way I'd never seen. I decided to experiment with the camera settings and switched into HDR mode for the first time, taking bracketed shots out of pure curiosity. When I looked at them on my phone, the exposure was off and I didn't think I'd gotten anything usable.
A few days later, I finally imported those bracketed images into Lightroom after watching YouTube tutorials to figure out what they even did. When I merged them, this incredible, vibrant sunset appeared—colors so vivid the camera caught things my eyes didn't even see in person. That's when I realized this wasn't just a snapshot, it was something more. This unintentional success revealed the artistic potential I never knew I had, and it still hangs in my living room today.
From Drones to Dreams: The Evolution
Initially focused on aerial work around Austin, I photographed the skyline and trails from nearly every angle imaginable—it became boring, honestly. I still love Austin and regularly go out to capture it, but I discovered I craved the dynamic layers and varied landscapes of mountainous areas, something we just don't have here in Texas. When I began traveling to national parks where drones weren't permitted, I bought a Sony A6400 originally intended for vlogging my drone flights. This "backup" camera opened doors to countless new locations and the type of dramatic, layered photography I was longing for.
My travels expanded across the United States, but I harbored a burning desire to explore international destinations like Iceland. Growing up in rural Alabama with only one international trip under my belt, I was honestly afraid of most of it—passport control, crossing borders, language barriers, driving in different countries with different rules and units of measure (sometimes on the opposite side of the road). On top of planning flights, hotels, and transportation in different time zones using different currencies, it felt overwhelming with so many moving pieces.
Banff became my "test the waters" trip. Canada and the US share similarities with no language barrier, making it a way to ease into international travel while experiencing one of the world's most legendary landscapes. I planned it for early October to photograph the larches as my annual fall foliage trip and loved every minute. This experience proved incredibly inspiring and gave me the confidence to start seriously planning for Iceland, though that dream still took several more years to make happen.
The game-changer: Before my 2023 California trip, I upgraded to the Sony A7R V for better wildlife resolution. When choosing lenses for the full-frame upgrade, I reached back out to that same friend who'd introduced me to drone photography years earlier. He'd been raving about his Sigma 24-70mm since getting his own full-frame camera, and when I asked if he was still loving it, the answer was a definitive yes. This camera and lens combination revolutionized my work through massive photo files and incredible dynamic range capabilities.
Even though he moved to Oklahoma during COVID and we're not as close geographically, we stay connected through a group chat where he often shares my latest images and asks me about the capture details. It's pretty amazing how that first drone flight led not just to my photography journey, but to a lasting friendship that continues to influence my work.
The Setback That Tested Everything
After that California trip in 2023, including a short stay in San Francisco for city photography, I got back to Austin with some pain on the right side of my head and in my ear. I didn't think much of it—just took some pain relievers and figured it was a headache.
A couple days later, I woke up on a Sunday morning and couldn't taste anything. I honestly thought I had COVID again, but as hours passed, I could tell I was losing movement in my face. That's when I sought medical care, starting a long run of doctor visits and taking more pills than I'd ever taken in my life.
At one point I was near panic, but a talk with an ER doctor friend calmed me down. He told me it was going to get much worse and be a long road to recovery, but that I was young and it would get better. He prepared me for what to expect, and he was largely spot on.
About 96 hours after that first pain, the right side of my face no longer moved. I couldn't taste anything or close my right eye. I stopped doing photography and pretty much everything other than work. The worst of it lasted four weeks—no taste, no ability to move that side of my face. I was too embarrassed to smile because I looked even weirder that way, which was unusual for me since I'm often smiling when I'm with people.
Those four weeks were rough, both physically and mentally. My friends thankfully rallied around me, kept me being social, and would stop by to check on me. After that month, feeling slowly began to return. I regained movement and my sense of taste over another four weeks, though I retained some symptoms for most of the remainder of 2023.
I tried to stay positive, but it was hard to want to do anything with the difficulties eating, sleeping, and just functioning day to day. Later in the year, with symptoms mostly resolved, I took a small "overlanding" trip to one of my favorite places in the US—the Valles Caldera. It was my test to see if I still loved what I did before. The answer was yes, but cautiously so.
The reignition: A February 2024 trip to Yellowstone, where I photographed wolves, reignited my passion completely. I'll never forget that winter morning when our snow coach stopped for a lone wolf on the roadside. Suddenly, its partner appeared, and then the entire pack began crossing behind us. Each wolf took a turn as lookout before pressing on through snow so deep they'd nearly disappear into the white landscape.
Watching them navigate that truly wild place was one of the most humbling things I've ever witnessed—and it motivated me to finally plan my long-awaited Iceland adventure that summer, followed by trips to New Zealand and Australia.
What I'm Really After
Here's what I seek to do with this work: show people the world from my eyes. I want to visit and capture wild places, telling a story of our world and how it's changing. I want you to be inspired to visit wild and not-so-wild places, whether they're close to home or halfway around the world.
I want you to feel a connection like I felt standing among the redwoods or walking on a glacier in New Zealand. I want you to be immersed and want to go on adventures. Whether you decide to buy a print or not, I hope you're inspired to explore and protect this blue ball in space we call home.
Every print in my collection represents more than just a photograph—it's a moment of connection to the wild, captured across America's most iconic landscapes and beyond, printed on museum-quality materials that honor these incredible places.
Let's Connect
Thanks for stopping by and sharing in this journey with me. I hope y'all find something here that speaks to you, whether that's a print that captures a place you love or just some inspiration for your next discovery.
Got questions about a specific image or location? Want to chat about photography or that hidden gem you discovered last weekend? Feel free to reach out—I'd love to connect and hear about your own adventures.
Now, I'm off to plan the next adventure. Hope to see you out there.
Ready to explore? Check out my latest work in my shop—perfect for bringing the beauty of wild places into your home and reminding you that your next discovery is waiting.