Inside One of America’s Oldest Leather Tanneries

Rob Hammer September 2, 2026

Inside Wickett & Craig: Photographs of an American Leather Tannery

Leather is part of our everyday lives, but most people never give any thought to what it is or where it comes from. After more than 6 years photographing working cowboys and ranches throughout the American West, I'm accustomed to seeing it everywhere: saddles, reins, bridles, chaps, boots, belts, and countless other pieces of gear. Usually, by the time I photograph it, the leather has already spent years being worked hard.

The Wickett & Craig tannery in Curwensville, Pennsylvania, offered an opportunity to see the other end of that story.

Founded in 1867, Wickett & Craig has been making leather for more than 150 years and is one of the few remaining specialty vegetable tanneries in the United States. The company spent its first 123 years in Toronto before moving to Pennsylvania around 1990, where it now operates a large tannery producing millions of square feet of leather each year.

I went there to photograph the people, machinery, and process behind it.

Workers handle leather hides beside machinery inside the Wickett & Craig tannery in Pennsylvania — Hides move through one of the working areas inside Wickett & Craig.

Inside an American Leather Tannery

There isn't much about the inside of Wickett & Craig that feels designed for visitors. It's a working industrial building, and nearly every surface shows evidence of what happens there. Pipes run overhead, hides hang throughout the facility, enormous drums occupy entire sections of the building, and years of water, oils, dyes, tannins, and production have left their marks on the floors, walls, and machinery.

That's exactly what made the place interesting to photograph.

I've always been attracted to working environments where nothing has been cleaned up or arranged for the camera. There is already enough visual information in a place like this. The challenge isn't creating something interesting, but figuring out how to organize what is already happening into a photograph.

Wickett & Craig operates on more than 16 acres and produces roughly 4.5 million square feet of leather annually. Walking through the tannery, the scale of that production is immediately apparent. Hides are stacked, hanging, stretched, soaked, rolled, and fed through machinery as they move from one part of the building to another.

The finished leather most people recognize is still a long way off.

Leather hides hang above tanning vats inside the industrial tannery — Hides hang over the tanning vats as they move through the vegetable tanning process.

A Wickett & Craig worker handles a large wet leather hide beside a metal processing machine inside the Pennsylvania tannery. — Leather is handled by hand in the tannery's wet processing areas.

Making Vegetable-Tanned Leather

Wickett & Craig specializes in vegetable-tanned leather, a traditional method that uses naturally derived tannins to transform raw cattle hides into leather. Compared with modern chrome tanning, vegetable tanning is a considerably slower process. At Wickett & Craig, the complete transformation takes roughly six weeks.

The hides come from North American cattle and first have to be prepared, rehydrated, dehaired, fleshed, and split before tanning begins. From there they move into a tanning yard containing 72 vats filled with a proprietary tanning liquor that includes natural extracts from mimosa and quebracho. The hides spend approximately two weeks in the tanning solution.

After tanning, the leather moves through a series of processes that determine its eventual thickness, color, feel, and finish. Large rotating drums are used for dyeing and conditioning. Oils and waxes are worked into the leather, while products such as Wickett & Craig's English Bridle and Harness leathers receive additional treatment with waxes and tallows.

Eventually the hides are stretched across large perforated screens and moved into a climate-controlled drying area. After several days of drying, they continue through finishing and grading before leaving the tannery.

Understanding the basic process helps explain the photographs, but what interested me most wasn't the individual sequence of steps. It was seeing how much physical work still exists inside an operation producing leather at this scale.

A Wickett & Craig worker stands beside a large brown leather hide inside the Pennsylvania tannery — A brief pause in the work, surrounded by leather and processing machinery.

The People Behind the Process

Machines do a lot of the heavy work at Wickett & Craig, but the tannery doesn't feel automated.

Workers are constantly handling the material, moving hides, operating equipment, checking leather, guiding it through machines, and preparing it for whatever happens next. Even with the size of the facility and machinery, there is a very human rhythm to the place.

That's something I've always been drawn to photograph.

People who have done the same kind of work for years develop an efficiency that is difficult to fake. Movements become automatic. They know how a piece of material should behave and recognize when something isn't right. That kind of physical knowledge is visible even when you don't fully understand the job yourself.

Photographing people who are actually working also changes my role as a photographer. There is very little reason for me to direct anything. I can watch, learn the rhythm of what is happening, and try to anticipate where the next photograph might be.

The goal isn't to make the tannery look cleaner, prettier, or more dramatic than it is. The worn machinery, wet floors, stained walls, work clothes, hanging hides, and odd industrial light are all part of the place. Removing those things would remove much of what makes it worth photographing.

Two workers handle a suspended hide beside industrial machinery at Wickett & Craig — Handling a hide this size takes two people.

A worker handles leather hides on a conveyor inside the Wickett & Craig tannery in Pennsylvania — Conveyors, hanging hides, and machinery fill this section of the production floor.

A Tannery With More Than 150 Years of History

Wickett & Craig began making leather in Toronto in 1867 and remained there for more than a century. When the company relocated around 1990, it moved to Curwensville, a small Pennsylvania town in a region with its own long history of tanning and leather production.

Today, the company occupies a facility covering more than 16 acres. Although the machinery and production requirements have evolved over the years, Wickett & Craig continues to specialize in vegetable tanning at a time when much of the world's leather is produced using faster methods.

There is something compelling about seeing an old process continuing at a meaningful industrial scale. This isn't a demonstration of how leather used to be made or a historic workshop preserved for visitors. People are coming to work every day and producing leather that will be shipped to manufacturers and craftspeople around the world.

The history is interesting, but the fact that the work is still happening is what matters.

Photographing People at Work

The photographs from Wickett & Craig also fit into a much broader subject I've returned to throughout my career: people at work.

I've photographed inside barbershops across all 50 states, on cattle ranches throughout the American West, and in workshops, factories, and other places where people make things or work with their hands. The occupations are different, but many of the things that attract me to them are the same.

Working environments develop their own visual language. Tools end up in particular places because that's where they're needed. Buildings change around the work being done inside them. Clothing gets stained and machinery gets worn in predictable places. The environment gradually becomes a record of the work itself.

The people change too. Someone who has performed a task thousands of times moves differently from someone doing it for the first time. Those small gestures and routines often make better photographs than anything I could have staged.

That's why I'm generally most comfortable photographing people while they're actually doing something. Once the work starts, my presence becomes less important. The person I'm photographing has something else to concentrate on, which allows the photographs to become less about the camera and more about what is actually happening.

Interior of the Wickett & Craig tannery with leather, work tables, barrels, and industrial equipment on the production floor — Pipes, barrels, work tables, and leather give the production floor its distinctly industrial character.

A folded leather hide is carried past metal machinery and stacked materials on the tannery floor — Moving hides from one part of the tannery to another is part of the daily work.

From the Tannery to the Cowboy

My interest in Wickett & Craig also connects naturally to my ongoing Cowboy Photography project.

Leather is one of the fundamental materials of cowboy culture, although it's easy to overlook because it is so commonplace. A working cowboy may spend much of the day surrounded by it without ever thinking of leather as a material in the abstract. It has already become a saddle, reins, a bridle, boots, chaps, or a belt. It's equipment.

The leather I've photographed on ranches also tends to be at the opposite end of its life from what I saw at Wickett & Craig. Saddles have been shaped by years on horseback, reins darkened by hands, sweat, and weather, and boots scratched and covered in dust. Good leather records its use, which is part of what makes old cowboy gear so visually interesting.

At Wickett & Craig, I was seeing the material before any of that happened. Before a saddlemaker or leatherworker turned it into something useful, and long before years of work gave it the character I'm accustomed to photographing.

Some of the heavier leather produced at Wickett & Craig ultimately becomes saddles, bridles, straps, and other equestrian equipment. That creates a direct line between a tannery in a small Pennsylvania town and the ranches I've photographed thousands of miles away in the West.

A broad brown leather hide feeds through a large metal processing machine as it is guided by hand — Near the end of the process, leather passes through one of the tannery's finishing machines.

A worker lies on a work table surrounded by leather hides and processing equipment inside the Wickett & Craig tannery — A brief pause after a long day of work, surrounded by leather and equipment.

A portrait surrounded by carts loaded with leather on the tannery's production floor — A portrait between the carts of leather and large drums on the tannery floor.

The Work Before the Work

One of the things I like about photographing manufacturing is that it exposes parts of everyday objects that are normally invisible.

When you look at a well-made saddle, it's natural to think about the saddlemaker. You see the stitching, tooling, construction, and design and understand that someone had to know how to make it. What is much easier to forget is that the craftsman began with a material somebody else had already spent weeks making.

The same is true of boots, belts, bridles, and countless other leather goods.

By the time those objects reach the people who use them, the tannery has disappeared from the story. There is no obvious evidence of the vats, drums, drying racks, machinery, or workers in Pennsylvania who handled the leather long before it became a finished object.

That's part of what made Wickett & Craig worth photographing.

My Cowboy project is largely about documenting a working culture that still exists despite the tendency to talk about the American West in the past tense. The same idea applies here. Wickett & Craig isn't interesting simply because the company was founded in 1867 or because vegetable tanning is an old process.

It's interesting because people are still doing the work.

A hide comes into the tannery. Over the next several weeks, people and machines transform it into leather. That leather leaves Pennsylvania and becomes something else in somebody else's hands. Eventually, some of it will wind up on a horse or a ranch, where another kind of work begins.

The tannery and the cowboy might seem like two completely different subjects.

For me, they're connected by the same thing: the work.

Worn tools stand in two barrels inside the Wickett & Craig tannery — Years of use show up in the tools and equipment around the tannery.

A worker handles a leather hide beside industrial processing machinery at Wickett & Craig — The work continues around the large processing machines inside the tannery.

Stacks of brown leather hides fill a production area alongside machinery, carts, and work surfaces — Stacks of leather wait alongside the machinery and work areas throughout the facility.

Photographing Wyoming: Cowboys, Ranches & the Open Road

Rob Hammer August 27, 2026

Wyoming Photography: Cowboys, Ranches, Small Towns & the American West

Weathered wooden ranch corrals with Wyoming mountains in the distance — Weathered wooden corrals sit against the mountains in the distance.

I've spent a lot of time driving through Wyoming over the years, usually with somewhere specific to be and enough time built into the trip to stop when something catches my attention. And in Wyoming, that happens a lot.

Most photography of Wyoming understandably focuses on the obvious places. Yellowstone, wildlife, etc etc. All of which deserve the attention they get. But that's never really been what keeps me coming back with a camera.

I'm more interested in the Wyoming between those places.

The working ranches. Cowboys. Small towns. Rodeos. Bars. Old motels. Empty highways. People going about their lives. And all the strange, quiet things you find after enough hours on the road.

Over the years, those photographs have become part of several long-term bodies of work documenting the American West. Taken together, they tell a story about Wyoming that has less to do with its famous scenery and more to do with what it feels like to spend time there.

Worn cowboy boots resting on a workbench inside an old Western building — Worn cowboy boots sit among the tools and debris in a burned out building.

Photographing Wyoming Beyond The Instagram Hot Spots

There probably isn't another state in America as visually associated with the West as Wyoming. It's hard to separate the place from the mythology surrounding it.

The landscape certainly has something to do with that. Everything feels bigger. Towns are separated by enormous stretches of nothing. Weather can change quickly. Mountains appear on the horizon and stay there for hours.

But the longer I've photographed Wyoming, the more interested I've become in the evidence of people living inside that landscape.

A faded motel sign. An old truck parked outside a bar. A gas station in the middle of nowhere. Horses standing behind a fence. A main street that looks like it hasn't changed much in 40 years.

None of those things are unique to Wyoming on their own. Together, though, they start to describe the place in a way that another photograph of the Tetons can't.

That's the Wyoming I keep looking for.

Weathered green vintage car parked beside an old Wyoming building — An old car parked beside a dilapidated building adds another detail along the road.

Man sitting in a pickup truck with an American flag on a Wyoming street — A man holding a gun sits in his truck with a Trump flag hanging off the tailgate.

Old motel beside a Wyoming road with rocky cliffs behind it — The old motel sits beside the road with rocky cliffs behind it.

Package liquor storefront with Bud Light sign in a Wyoming town — Old signs and storefronts are part of the small-town landscape.

Wyoming Cowboy Photography

For the past several years, a significant part of my work has focused on working cowboys and ranches throughout the American West.

There's an enormous difference between photographing the idea of a cowboy and photographing someone who actually makes a living horseback.

The work isn't performed for the camera. Cattle need to be gathered and moved. Calves need to be branded. Fences need fixing. Horses need to be saddled. The weather doesn't care that you're trying to make photographs.

That's precisely what makes it interesting.

When I'm photographing cowboys in Wyoming, I'm not interested in manufacturing some romantic version of the West that doesn't exist. I'm interested in the things that happen naturally when people are doing work they've spent their lives learning how to do.

A rider disappearing into a cloud of dust. The way a horse and cowboy move together while sorting cattle. Frozen hands early in the morning. Long stretches where nothing particularly dramatic happens, followed by thirty seconds when everything happens at once.

Those moments are what have kept me working on this project year after year.

They also serve as a reminder that the American cowboy isn't simply a historical character. Ranching culture is still very much alive in Wyoming.

Weathered wooden cattle corrals on a working ranch in Wyoming — Weathered cattle corrals sit below the rolling hills on a working ranch in Wyoming.

Close view of a cowboy's horse wearing a worn Western bridle — First light illuminates a horses face on a working cattle ranch.

Cowboy on horseback moving cattle across a Wyoming ranch — Working cattle brings the cowboy, horses, and land into the same frame.

Photographing Working Ranches in Wyoming

Access is everything when photographing ranches.

You can't understand much about a place by showing up for twenty minutes, making a few photographs and leaving. The pictures get better when people stop paying attention to the camera.

That takes time.

Over the years I've been fortunate to spend time on working ranches throughout the West, documenting cattle drives, brandings, roundups and the everyday work that happens between those bigger events.

Some of my favorite photographs aren't necessarily of cowboys at all.

They're the details surrounding the work. Saddles worn smooth from years of use. A pair of gloves sitting on a fence post. Steam coming off a horse on a cold morning. Trucks covered in dirt. Dogs waiting for something to happen. People standing around talking after the work is finished.

Those details say as much about ranching as the dramatic moments do.

The landscape is always present too. In Wyoming, it's impossible for it not to be. Ranching happens at a scale that can make a rider on horseback look insignificant against the country surrounding them.

That relationship between people, animals and land is a large part of what I'm trying to photograph.

Portrait of a cowboy wearing a hat and bandana — Cowboy portrait inside a working ranch workshop.

Small Town Wyoming

Long before I started seriously photographing cowboys, I was photographing the American road.

For years I've driven around the country making photographs of places and objects that aren't typically considered important enough to photograph. Motels. Diners. signs. Abandoned buildings. Old cars. Storefronts. Bars. Basketball hoops. And whatever else makes me pull over.

Wyoming is particularly good for that kind of wandering.

There are towns where the main street seems disproportionately wide for the number of people living there. Bars that might be the only place open for miles. Old motels hanging on beside highways that travelers now pass through without stopping.

Some places are changing quickly. Others feel like they exist in their own time zone.

That's what interests me.

Road trips are usually organized around destinations, but photography has taught me that the spaces between those destinations are often more interesting.

Wyoming has a lot of space between destinations.

And I've learned not to hurry through it.

Weathered brick building with an old clock and boarded window in Wyoming — Old clocks, weathered brick, and worn storefronts are part of the small-town landscape.

White church and quiet main street in a small Wyoming town — Small-town streets like this make it easy to slow down and look around.

Wyoming small town street with storefronts and mountains in the distance — Wyoming's main streets often run straight toward the mountains, with businesses and storefronts along the road.

Small Wyoming town with homes and a mountain rising behind them — The mountains rise behind the houses and streets of town.

Portrait of a man standing inside a Western workshop in Wyoming — Light from the window adds detail to the portrait.

Books tools and supplies on shelves inside a Wyoming ranch workshop — Books, tools, and supplies fill the shelves and workbench of the shop.

Man working on a rifle at a cluttered workbench in a Wyoming shop — A man works on a rifle at the crowded workbench.

Saddles and Western ranch gear inside a Wyoming ranch building — Saddles and ranch gear fill the interior of the building.

Rodeo Culture in Dubois, Wyoming

Dubois is a small town in western Wyoming with a population of roughly a thousand people. During the summer, Friday nights mean rodeo.

I went there expecting to photograph the rodeo and came away much more interested in everything surrounding it.

Of course there were cowboys, horses, broncs and bulls. But there were also kids running around behind the chutes, families sitting in the stands, competitors talking before their events and all the little interactions happening away from the arena.

Afterward, a lot of the same people ended up at the local bar.

That's where the story became more interesting to me.

Cowboys who had been competing a few hours earlier were drinking, talking and dancing. Rodeo spectators mixed with locals. The distinction between the event and everyday life disappeared.

Those photographs became less about rodeo and more about a small Western community.

That's generally where I want the camera to be.

Cowboy on horseback carrying an American flag at a Wyoming rodeo — A cowboy carries an American flag through the rodeo arena.

Cowboys and spectators gathered at a Wyoming rodeo in the evening — Cowboys and spectators gather around the rodeo as the evening gets underway.

Cowboy riding a horse at a Wyoming rodeo in low light — Horse and rider move through the arena in a blur of motion.

Crowded Western bar at night in a Wyoming town after a rodeo — The night continues at the local bar after the rodeo.

Cowboys and spectators gathered inside a Wyoming bar after a rodeo — Rodeo competitors and spectators mix together inside the bar after the events.

Rodeo participant in Western clothing walking through a Wyoming bar — The rodeo continues into the evening at the local bar.

Wyoming Road Trip Photography

Driving is an enormous part of making this work.

There isn't really another way around it.

Wyoming rewards that kind of travel because the distances force you to slow down. You can drive for hours through country that initially appears empty before realizing how much is actually there.

Weather systems move across the horizon. Light changes constantly. Pronghorn appear beside the highway. Towns come and go in a few minutes.

Then there's all the human stuff.

Hand-painted signs. Old bars. Gas stations. Churches. Trucks. Motels. Ranch entrances. Buildings whose original purpose isn't immediately obvious.

I've missed plenty of photographs because I told myself I'd stop on the way back.

I've learned not to do that anymore.

If something makes me look twice, I turn around.

Sometimes it turns into a photograph. Most of the time it doesn't. That's part of the process.

There isn't a checklist for this kind of Wyoming road trip photography. I'm not driving from one famous overlook to another trying to reproduce photographs I've already seen.

The whole point is not knowing what I'm looking for until I see it.

Dirt road winding through sagebrush and open Wyoming countryside — The dirt road cuts through the open country and sagebrush.

Golden West Motel sign and weathered building in a Wyoming town — Mountains rise behind the Golden West Motel and its roadside sign.

Open Wyoming landscape with a mountain ridge and lone tree — Open country and scattered trees stretch toward the mountains.

Weathered brick storefront with chimney and entrance in Wyoming — Weathered brick and an old storefront show the age of the building.

Fish shaped sign above a street in a small Wyoming town — A fish-shaped sign adds another unexpected detail to a small Wyoming town.

Why I Keep Photographing Wyoming

The West has changed enormously, and it continues to change.

That's part of the reason I feel an urgency to keep photographing it.

I'm not interested in pretending Wyoming is frozen in some earlier era. It isn't. New houses go up. Old businesses disappear. Ranches change hands. Towns grow. People leave and other people arrive.

At the same time, there are aspects of life here that remain closely connected to the state's history.

People still make their living raising cattle. Cowboys still spend long days horseback. Small-town rodeos still bring communities together on summer nights. There are still roads where you can drive a long time without seeing another car.

The tension between those things interests me.

Photography can't preserve a place, but it can preserve evidence of what it looked and felt like at a particular moment.

That's enough reason for me to keep going back.

There will always be another road I haven't driven, another ranch I haven't visited, another town I've passed through too quickly.

And probably another reason to turn the truck around.

Sandman Motel sign and storefront along a Wyoming street — The Sandman Motel sign stands beside the road in town.

Snow covered ranch buildings and livestock trailer beneath Wyoming mountains — Ranch buildings and a livestock trailer sit in the snow below the mountains.

Western Motel building and sign in a small Wyoming town — The Western Motel sits along the road beneath the rocky cliffs.

Basketball hoop mounted against a brick building beneath a Wyoming hillside — A basketball hoop stands against a brick building below the rocky hillside.

Fine Art Photography of Wyoming & the American West

These Wyoming photographs are part of my larger ongoing documentation of cowboy culture, working ranches, rural communities and everyday life throughout the American West.

A selection of the work is available as limited-edition fine art photography prints, produced using archival materials and available in a range of sizes and custom framing options.

The photographs aren't intended to present a polished or invented version of the West. They're records of people, places and moments I've encountered after years of traveling and photographing this part of America.

View the Full Cowboy Gallery

View Cowboy Photography Prints

View More Roadtrip Photography

View my Roadtrip Photography Book

Wyoming road leading through open country toward a mountain — The road runs through open country toward the mountains.

Wyoming mountain range beyond a sagebrush covered hillside — Sagebrush and open country stretch toward the mountain range.

Wyoming lake reflecting mountains and clouds across the open landscape — The lake reflects the mountains and clouds across the open country.

Grand Teton mountain range rising above the Wyoming landscape — The Grand Teton range rises above the landscape.

Alaska Fly Fishing Photographs

Rob Hammer August 26, 2026

Alaska Fly Fishing Photography

Fly Fishing in Iliamna and the Remote Rivers of Alaska

There are very few places left where getting to the river is half the adventure.

In Alaska, a normal day of fly fishing might start by climbing into a de Havilland Beaver, taking off from Iliamna, and flying over a seemingly endless landscape of tundra, lakes, braided rivers, and mountains. From the air there are almost no signs of people. No roads leading to the water. No parking lots. Just river after river disappearing into country that seems to go on forever.

Then the pilot picks one.

The plane drops down, the floats hit the water, everyone unloads their rods and packs, and the Beaver disappears again.

Now you're standing in the middle of Alaska with a fly rod.

That's a hard experience to beat.

Pilot flying a small plane over mountains and rivers in Alaska — The flights were almost as exciting as the fishing, with the landscape stretching out below.

Fly fisherman carrying a backpack and fishing gear through Alaskan tundra — Rod and gear in hand, a fisherman crosses the tundra on the way to the water.

Photographing Fly Fishing in Alaska

I've photographed fly fishing in a lot of beautiful places over the years, but Alaska is different. Not necessarily because every photograph is more dramatic, but because everything surrounding the fishing becomes part of the story.

The airplanes. The pilots. The guides. The weather. The bears. The long drives down dirt roads. Wet waders hanging wherever they'll dry. Whisky and bear spray rolling around on the dashboard of an old truck.

And eventually, the fish.

That's what interested me most photographically. I wasn't trying to come home with a collection of pictures of people holding trout. I wanted the photographs to show what it actually felt like to be there.

De Havilland Beaver float plane resting on a remote Alaskan river with mountains behind it — The de Havilland Beaver waits on the river, ready for the next flight.

Fly fisherman casting beside an Alaskan river with mountains behind him — Fishing a stretch of water in the Alaskan backcountry.

Angler holding a silver salmon while standing in an Alaskan river — After a day on the river, a silver salmon comes out of the water.

Flying Out of Iliamna

Iliamna is the kind of place that immediately makes you aware of just how enormous Alaska is.

From the air, the scale becomes ridiculous.

Rivers twist through the tundra without a building anywhere in sight. Lakes appear below the plane and stretch toward the horizon. Mountains and volcanoes rise in the distance. Every once in a while you spot another float plane or a small structure, but mostly you see empty country.

For a photographer, the flights were almost as exciting as the fishing.

I'd spend as much time looking out the window as possible, photographing the landscape below and watching the light change across the ground. Then we'd land somewhere completely different and start all over again on foot.

View from the cockpit of a float plane flying over an Alaskan lake — The view from the cockpit on the way to another remote river.

Alaskan lake reflecting a sunset with mountains in the distance — By evening, the lake reflects the mountains across the water.

The Fish Are Pretty Good Too

Of course, nobody travels all the way to Alaska with a fly rod because they don't care about fish.

The fishing can be absurd.

Rainbow trout, Arctic grayling, Dolly Varden, silver salmon and other salmon species move through these waters depending on the river and time of year. Some of the trout are the kind of fish that permanently screw up your expectations when you return home.

But Alaska also changes the way you think about a successful day of fishing.

You might spend an hour working a stretch of river only to have a bear wander into the same area and effectively end the discussion about who gets to fish there.

The bear wins.

Every time.

Fly fisherman standing in the water with a rainbow trout in a landing net — Bringing the fish to the net marks the end of another stretch on the river.

Rainbow trout resting in a landing net in shallow water — A rainbow trout rests in the net after being brought in from the river.

Fly fisherman standing in the water at dusk in Alaska — Fishing continues into the evening under an Alaskan sky.

Arctic grayling held by a fly fisherman above the water — An Arctic grayling comes out of the river after the day's fishing.

Sharing the River With Bears

Seeing a grizzly bear from the window of an airplane is one thing.

Standing in a river with one is another.

Bears are simply part of fishing in Alaska. You're traveling through their habitat and fishing for many of the same things they're looking for. Sometimes that means getting out of the water, backing off, and letting them do whatever they're going to do.

Those encounters have a way of immediately correcting your perception of where you stand in the food chain.

They're also part of what makes Alaska feel genuinely wild. Not wild in the marketing sense of the word. Actually wild.

You're a visitor there.

Fly fishermen walking along a river with a grizzly bear nearby and mountains behind them — Four fishermen share the river with a grizzly bear in the distance.

Grizzly bear tracks crossing the sand beside a fisherman — Grizzly tracks cross the sand along the river, a reminder that fishermen are visitors here.

Fly fisherman carrying a rod with a grizzly bear walking across the river behind him — Fishing in Alaska comes with the occasional reminder that you're in bear country.

More Than Fishing Photographs

The older I get, the less interested I am in photographing only the obvious part of an activity.

A picture of someone holding a giant rainbow trout certainly has value, but it doesn't necessarily tell you what the trip felt like.

Sometimes the photograph that stays with you is a fisherman walking across an empty landscape.

Or a guide heading back toward the float plane.

A rod leaning against an old truck.

The view through the windshield on the way to the water.

Friends laughing at the end of a long day.

Those pictures fill in the spaces between the fish. And years later, they're often the ones that bring the experience back most clearly.

That's the part of fly fishing photography that continues to interest me.

Truck dashboard with fishing gear and bottles on a wet road in Alaska — On the road to the water, fishing gear and the day's essentials ride along on the dashboard.

Four fly fishermen walking across a river with a mountain behind them — Fishermen make their way across the river beneath the mountains.

Alaska From the Air

There is also something about seeing Alaska from a small airplane that changes your understanding of the place.

From the ground, you're standing beside one river.

From a few thousand feet up, you realize there are hundreds more.

They snake across the landscape in every direction, most of them inaccessible by road and many without another person anywhere nearby.

It's impossible to fly over that much water without wondering what's down there.

That's probably dangerous thinking for a fly fisherman.

Float plane flying over Alaskan tundra and braided rivers — From the air, Alaska's tundra stretches out in every direction, with rivers cutting through the landscape.

View from a float plane over Alaskan lakes and mountains — Lakes and mountains spread across the landscape below the float plane.

Braided river winding through the Alaskan landscape viewed from a float plane — Far below the float plane, a braided river winds through the tundra.

Why Alaska Sticks With You

Eventually the plane comes back.

You load the rods, climb inside, put on the headset, and watch the river get smaller beneath you.

Tomorrow you'll probably fly somewhere else.

That's Alaska fly fishing.

Yes, there are big trout and salmon. That's certainly part of the attraction. But reducing Alaska to the size or number of fish misses most of what makes the place special.

It's the uncertainty of where you're going that morning. It's flying over country without roads. It's standing in a river and realizing a grizzly bear has considerably more authority over the situation than you do. It's the people you fish with and all the strange little moments that happen between leaving the lodge and coming home.

The fish give you an excuse to go.

Everything else is why you remember it.

Group of anglers gathered beside a truck along an Alaskan lake — Taking a break and sharing a laugh.

Fly fisherman carrying fishing gear beside a truck near an Alaskan lake — Fishing gear and an old truck are part of the routine between the road and the river.

Snow covered Alaskan mountains and landscape viewed from the air — From above, mountains and glaciers stretch across the landscape in every direction.

Fly Fishing Photography, Prints & Licensing

This Alaska series is part of my larger body of fly fishing photography documenting anglers, guides, rivers, and the culture surrounding the sport throughout the American West and beyond.

Select fly fishing photographs are available as fine art prints, and images from the Alaska archive are also available for commercial and editorial licensing.

View more of my fly fishing photography or browse available fly fishing photography prints.

For all licensing inquiries, contact me directly at rob@robhammerphotography.com.

Alaskan tundra rivers and lakes viewed from a float plane — Rivers and lakes wind through the tundra as the float plane passes overhead.

Weathered road sign beside a gravel road in Alaska — Bullet holes cover a weathered road sign along the road to the river.

Fly fishing guide and angler walking from a float plane in Alaska — Sharing a laugh between the flight and the fishing.

Fly fishing guide standing in an Alaskan river with a landing net — Working a stretch of river with a landing net.

Fly fishing river winding through an Alaskan landscape beneath a mountain — Casting across the river with the mountains in the background.

Hand holding a metal type slug from the Saguache Crescent — A metal type slug from the Saguache Crescent, a newspaper that has served Saguache since the late 1800s.

The Saguache Crescent: Photographing the Last Linotype Newspaper in America

Rob Hammer August 26, 2026

The Last Linotype Newspaper in America

There aren't many places left where you can watch someone make a newspaper with molten lead.But in the tiny town of Saguache, Colorado, Dean Coombs still does it every week.

Dean is the publisher, editor, printer, repairman and, by his own admission, not a particularly good janitor at the Saguache Crescent, a weekly newspaper that's been serving this small Colorado town since the late 1800s. While virtually every other newspaper in the world moved on to computers and modern printing technology decades ago, Dean still produces the Crescent using a Mergenthaler Model 14 Linotype machine that his family bought new in 1920.

It's believed to be the last newspaper in the United States, and possibly the world, still produced this way.

The Saguache Crescent

Saguache sits in Colorado's San Luis Valley, a place that already feels somewhat removed from the speed of the rest of the world. The town has a population of only a few hundred people, and the Saguache Crescent fits naturally into that landscape.

The newspaper began in 1882 as the Saguache Advance and has been produced in the same building since 1902. Dean's grandparents bought the paper in 1917, and it has remained in the Coombs family ever since.

Dean was essentially born into it.

When he was a baby, his parents reportedly attached his carriage to the back of the printing press so the movement of the machine would rock him to sleep. He started working at the newspaper when he was 12.

His mother, Marie, set type and wrote stories. His father, Ivan, handled the printing. When Ivan died unexpectedly in 1978, Dean took over. The family still managed to get that week's paper out the following day. That tells you quite a bit about Dean and the Crescent. A newspaper comes out when a newspaper is supposed to come out.

Dean Coombs operating the Linotype machine inside the Saguache Crescent — For Dean, working at the Linotype is part of the weekly routine of producing the newspaper.

Dean Coombs operating the Linotype keyboard — Individual brass matrices drop into place as newspaper copy is entered on the Linotype keyboard.

Printing a Newspaper With a Linotype Machine

The first thing that struck me about the Linotype wasn't necessarily how old it was. It was how physical the whole process is.Modern publishing is quiet. Sit at a computer, type some words, move things around on a screen and hit send.

This is the opposite.

The Linotype is big, loud, mechanical and complicated. There are gears, levers, chains, molds and moving parts everywhere. The machine looks like something you could spend a lifetime operating and still not completely understand.

Dean types the newspaper's copy on a keyboard that controls the Linotype. With every keystroke, a small brass matrix for an individual character drops from a magazine inside the machine.

Those matrices line up to form a complete line of text.Then things get really interesting. Molten metal is injected against the matrices, casting an entire line of type into a solid metal slug. That's where the name comes from: a "line o' type."

The individual lead slugs are then arranged by hand into columns. The words are upside down and backward, which Dean reads and organizes as naturally as the rest of us read a newspaper sitting at the kitchen table.

Eventually those columns become a page.

The page becomes a printing plate.

And the printing plate becomes the Saguache Crescent.

It's an enormous amount of work to produce something most of us barely think about.

Dean Coombs working beside the Linotype machine — The Linotype sits among the gears, chains, and other machinery that make the printing process possible.

Wall of photographs certificates and newspapers inside the Saguache Crescent — Photographs, certificates, newspapers, and other reminders of the Crescent's history cover a wall in the office.

Metal shavings beneath machinery inside the Saguache Crescent — Metal shavings gather on the floor beneath the printing machinery.

A 100-Year-Old Machine That Still Has a Deadline

There is another problem with using a Linotype machine built in 1920.You can't exactly call the service department. If something breaks, Dean fixes it.

The walls of the Crescent are covered with tools, parts and the accumulated evidence of a century of keeping old machinery alive. Dean has spent enough time with the Linotype that he seems to understand it in the way someone understands an old truck they've owned forever. Maybe he doesn't know what every part is called or exactly why every piece does what it does. He knows when something isn't right. And it has to be made right because Tuesday is coming. That's one of the things I loved about photographing Dean. There wasn't any performance to it. He wasn't operating an antique machine for tourists or demonstrating a historical process at a museum. He was at work.

There was a newspaper that needed to be printed, subscribers who expected to receive it and a town that expected its local news. The fact that the process happens to involve technology invented in the 1880s almost seemed secondary to him. It's simply how he makes the paper.

Dean Coombs working inside the Saguache Crescent print room — Machinery, metal type, and printing supplies fill the workspace around Dean.

Dean Coombs standing beside the printing press inside the Saguache Crescent — The printing press sits ready for another issue of the newspaper.

Dean Coombs seated inside the Saguache Crescent newspaper office — A portrait of Dean inside the Saguache Crescent, where he has spent most of his life producing the weekly newspaper.

Photographing Dean Coombs at Work

Visually, the Saguache Crescent is the kind of place I could spend days photographing. There is stuff everywhere. Tools hang from walls. Metal type fills drawers and work surfaces. Lead slugs pile up. Paper, machinery, handwritten notes and decades of accumulated newspaper history compete for whatever space remains.

Then, in the middle of all of it, is Dean.

What interested me wasn't just making photographs of an old Linotype machine. The machine by itself is interesting, but without Dean it's just an artifact. Dean is what makes the place matter.

He grew up with the newspaper. His parents worked there. His grandparents owned it before them. He has spent most of his life inside the same building, using the same process to deliver local news to generations of people in the same small Colorado town.

The more time I spent photographing him, the less the story felt like it was about obsolete technology. It was about continuity.

Dean Coombs working at the Linotype machine inside the Saguache Crescent — The weekly newspaper takes shape at the Linotype as Dean works through the printing process.

Metal printing plates with reversed text and illustrations — Close details of reversed type and images are visible across the metal printing plates.

When "Obsolete" Doesn't Mean Useless

The Linotype changed publishing when it was introduced in the 1880s. Before its invention, type had to be assembled largely by hand, one character at a time. Linotype allowed an operator to create an entire line of metal type at once and dramatically increased the speed at which newspapers and books could be produced.

For much of the 20th century, Linotype machines were everywhere. Then computers came along. The technology that had revolutionized publishing became obsolete itself. Newspapers modernized, Linotype machines disappeared and the specialized knowledge required to operate and repair them largely disappeared too.

Except in Saguache.

More than a century after Dean's family purchased their Mergenthaler Model 14, he was still sitting at its keyboard making a newspaper. There's something wonderfully unreasonable about that. From a business perspective, almost none of it makes sense. There are easier ways to do every step of the process.

But efficiency isn't always the same thing as value. The Crescent isn't being made this way because someone developed a clever marketing campaign around "old-fashioned newspaper printing." It's being made this way because this is how Dean knows how to make it.

Drawers filled with metal type inside the Saguache Crescent — Drawers packed with metal type hold the individual characters used to compose the newspaper.

Printing and repair tools hanging on a wall inside the Saguache Crescent — Tools, parts, and supplies fill a wall in the newspaper office.

A Small-Town Colorado Newspaper

The technology can also overshadow the other important part of this story: the Saguache Crescent is an actual community newspaper. Dean isn't making a reproduction of an old newspaper. He's reporting on Saguache.

The stories are about the people who live there. Local government. Community happenings. The ordinary events that wouldn't mean much to someone living a thousand miles away but matter a great deal when it's your town and your neighbors.

At the time I photographed him, Dean was producing hundreds of copies every week for a community of only about 500 people. There's something fitting about a newspaper this local being produced by a process this personal. One man knows the stories. The same man sets the type. He keeps the machine running. He prints the paper.And then the people in town read it. There aren't many layers between the community and the finished product.

Dean Coombs arranging metal type by hand — Metal type is arranged by hand for what is believed to be the last Linotype-produced newspaper in the United States.

The End of the Linotype Newspaper

The uncomfortable part of photographing places like this is knowing they aren't going to exist forever.

Dean doesn't have children to take over the Crescent, and he isn't training a successor.

It's difficult to imagine who could replace him.

Learning to operate a Linotype would only be the beginning. Someone would also have to learn how to diagnose and repair a century-old machine for which there isn't a technician coming from Denver when something goes wrong.

Then they'd have to want the lifestyle that comes with running a weekly newspaper. Dean has spent decades organizing his life around that Tuesday deadline. At some point, that will end. And when it does, an unbroken connection to an era when Linotype machines powered newspapers around the country may end with it.

That's part of why photographs matter.

You can't keep everything alive.

Sometimes all you can do is pay attention while it's still there.

Dean Coombs working at the printing press inside the Saguache Crescent — The weekly newspaper comes together at the press as Dean handles the printing.

The Smithsonian Magazine Story

The photographs I made of Dean and the Saguache Crescent were eventually published by Smithsonian Magazine in April 2022 as part of the story "This Small-Town Newspaper Is the Last of Its Kind," written by Nick Yetto.

The article tells Dean's story in much greater detail and explains the history and mechanics of Linotype printing. Smithsonian described the Crescent as the last Linotype-produced newspaper in the United States and possibly the world.

But what has stayed with me most isn't the historical significance of the machine. It's Dean standing in that cluttered newspaper office, surrounded by a century's worth of tools and machinery, doing something almost nobody else on earth still knows how to do.

Not because he's trying to preserve history.

Because the paper has to come out Tuesday.

Close view of the printing press inside the Saguache Crescent — The gears and mechanical parts of the printing press show the physical work behind each issue of the newspaper.

Small Town American Rodeo Photography

Rob Hammer August 5, 2026

Behind the Scenes at a Wyoming Rodeo | Photographing Cowboy Culture in Dubois

There are photographs that happen in eight seconds.

Then there are photographs that take an entire evening.

The latter are the ones I usually come home thinking about.

For more than six years, I've been documenting working cowboys and ranches throughout the American West. The project has taken me from some of the largest cattle ranches in Texas, Nevada, Arizona, Montana, Nebraska, and Colorado to small family operations where the work still begins before sunrise. Much of that time has been spent photographing branding fires, calving season, horseback gathers, shipping cattle, and the quiet routines that define life on a working ranch.

Because of that, people often assume I'm a rodeo photographer.

I'm not.

At least not in the traditional sense.

I admire rodeo immensely. It preserves traditions born from everyday ranch work and gives cowboys and cowgirls a place to test skills that were once essential to earning a living. But what draws me to a rodeo isn't necessarily the competition itself.

It's everything surrounding it.

Last weekend I spent an evening at the Dubois Rodeo in western Wyoming, not looking for the winning ride or the biggest wreck, but for the moments that reveal the character of a community.

Spectators watch the rodeo from the fence line and grandstands during an evening event in Dubois Wyoming — The fence line fills with spectators while riders and families watch the action from every angle.

Spectators fill the grandstands as evening settles over the Dubois Rodeo in Wyoming — The grandstands fill as the community settles in for another Friday night at the Dubois Rodeo.

Why I'm Not a Traditional Rodeo Photographer

My work has never been about documenting sporting events.

It's about documenting people.

While rodeo and ranching are deeply connected, they aren't the same thing. Most of my photographs are made on working ranches where there are no grandstands, announcers, prize money, or crowds. The stories unfold slowly, often over several days, and the photographs are built through trust rather than access.

That same approach follows me into a rodeo.

Instead of focusing solely on the arena, I find myself wandering toward the fences, the warm-up pens, the parking lot, and eventually the local bar after the last event ends. Those places often reveal more about Western culture than the arena itself.

If you're interested in the broader documentary project, you may also enjoy these stories:

Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado – documenting riding health, calving season, and everyday ranch work.
Spanish Ranch in Nevada – exploring one of the oldest horseback traditions in the American West.
Dakota May: Rawhide Braiding – preserving a traditional craft that continues to serve working cowboys.
Magnum Feedyard – an inside look at one of the final stops in the beef production chain.

Together, they form chapters of the same ongoing project.

Cowgirl on horseback waits near the arena with a rope as the rodeo continues in Dubois Wyoming — The evening continues with riders positioned just outside the arena.

Team ropers pursue a steer under the arena lights during the Dubois Rodeo in Wyoming — The pace changes quickly once the team roping begins under the arena lights.

The Dubois Rodeo Reflects Everyday Western Life

Dubois is the kind of town where a rodeo still feels like a community gathering instead of a production.

People arrive early.

Some watch from the grandstands.

Others sit on horseback outside the arena fence.

Children wander between pickup trucks while parents catch up with neighbors they haven't seen in a week.

As the evening progresses, the light changes dramatically. Summer storms drift across the mountains, sunlight briefly illuminates the cliffs above town, and the American flag circles the arena before the first event begins.

Those transitions are every bit as compelling as the competition.

One of my favorite photographs from the evening isn't of a bronc rider or a steer wrestler. It's of the flag rider galloping beneath Wyoming skies while the town settles into another Friday night tradition. Another shows families leaning against the fence simply watching together.

They're photographs about place.

About belonging.

About the pace of life in a small Western town.

Cowboys on horseback prepare near the arena beneath sunlit cliffs before the Dubois Rodeo in Wyoming — Evening light reaches the cliffs above the arena as riders prepare for the night's events.

Rodeo rider passes close to the camera beneath the arena lights during an evening rodeo in Dubois Wyoming — Rider moves through the arena as the rodeo continues.

Group of friends and teenagers watch horses in the holding pens behind the rodeo arena in Dubois Wyoming — The horses draw a crowd away from the arena.

Why Rodeos Matter to Cowboy Culture

Rodeos occupy a unique place in the American West.

Historically, many rodeo events grew directly from the skills required on working ranches. Roping, horsemanship, stock handling, and riding difficult horses weren't invented for entertainment—they were part of everyday work.

Today, rodeos preserve those traditions while serving another equally important role.

They bring communities together.

In many rural towns, the annual or weekly rodeo isn't simply entertainment. It's where multiple generations gather in one place. Ranch families, contestants, local businesses, visitors, musicians, and volunteers all contribute to an event that reflects the identity of the town itself.

That's what interests me most.

Not simply the competition, but the culture surrounding it.

Families gather and visit together after the rodeo beneath the hills outside Dubois Wyoming — Conversations continue long after the final event has ended.

Families walk through the rodeo grounds after the evening events in Dubois Wyoming — People continue visiting around the rodeo grounds after the final event.

Side by side utility vehicle parked with American flags after the Dubois Rodeo in Wyoming — American flags remain lit in the parking area as the crowd begins to leave.

Looking Beyond the Arena

When the final event ended, many of the contestants and spectators made their way to a local bar.

The cowboy hats stayed on.

The conversations continued.

A country band took the stage.

Contestants who had been competing only an hour earlier were now talking with friends, laughing over drinks, and dancing with people they'd known for years.

Those photographs may never appear in a rodeo magazine.

But they say something important.

They remind us that cowboy culture doesn't end when the arena lights shut off.

It continues wherever people gather.

In conversations between friends.

In local music.

In family celebrations.

In worn dance floors and small-town bars that have served generations of ranch families.

Those moments rarely make headlines, yet they're often the photographs that feel most honest.

Rustic Pine Tavern in Dubois Wyoming after the rodeo as people gather outside at night — For many, the night continues at one of Dubois' longtime gathering places.- The Rustic Pine Tavern

Patrons gather inside the Rustic Pine Tavern after the rodeo in Dubois Wyoming — The bar fills as another rodeo night gives way to conversation and familiar faces.

Cowboys and community members visit together inside the Rustic Pine Tavern in Dubois Wyoming — Conversations pick up where the rodeo left off.

Cowboy Culture Is More Than Ranch Work

One of the biggest misconceptions about my project is that it's exclusively about cowboys working cattle.

The work has always been broader than that.

Cowboy culture exists on ranches, certainly, but it also lives in rodeos, livestock auctions, county fairs, saddle shops, rawhide braiding shops, small-town cafés, and local bars after the rodeo is over.

Those places matter because they're where traditions are shared, friendships are maintained, and younger generations begin to understand the culture they're inheriting.

If we only photograph the work, we miss part of the story.

If we only photograph the competition, we miss another part.

I'm interested in documenting the spaces in between.

The moments that feel ordinary today but will become history tomorrow.

People gather inside the Rustic Pine Tavern after the rodeo in Dubois Wyoming — The evening continues inside the Rustic Pine Tavern.

Country band performs on stage at the Rustic Pine Tavern in Dubois Wyoming — Live music carries the evening forward after the rodeo has ended.

An Ongoing Documentary Project About the American West

These photographs from Dubois are one small chapter in a documentary project that has taken me across thousands of miles of the American West over the past six years.

Some stories happen during branding season.

Others unfold in remote mountain pastures or desert ranches.

Sometimes they happen beneath the lights of a small-town rodeo, and sometimes they continue hours later inside a crowded Wyoming bar where the music starts after the livestock trailers have already headed home.

Together, they tell a larger story—not simply about cowboys, but about a living culture that continues to evolve while remaining deeply rooted in tradition.

If you'd like to explore more of this ongoing work, I invite you to browse the rest of the Cowboy Project, including stories from working ranches, traditional craftsmen, and communities throughout the American West.

View Fine Art Prints From The Cowboy Series

Taxidermy mounts line the walls inside the Rustic Pine Tavern as patrons gather after the rodeo in Dubois Wyoming — Inside the Rustic Pine Tavern, the evening settles into conversation among mounted wildlife and worn wood walls.

Cowboy wearing a Wind River Rodeo shirt walks through the Rustic Pine Tavern in Dubois Wyoming — A cowboy in a Wind River Rodeo shirt, chaps, and a 10 inch knife walks through the Rustic Pine Tavern.

The silhouette of Dakota May is visible behind a prepared rawhide hide as he cuts long, continuous strands for braiding — Backlit by the sun, the prepared hide reveals the texture braiders look for before cutting.

Rawhide Braiding - A Western Cowboy Tradition

Rob Hammer August 4, 2026

The Art of Rawhide Braiding: Inside the Workshop of Dakota May

There are some crafts that refuse to be hurried.

Rawhide braiding is one of them.

Long before synthetic ropes, factory-made tack and online catalogs, the working cowboy depended on gear built by skilled hands. Every bosal, mecate, set of reins and reata represented countless hours of preparation, patience and repetition. The quality of that work wasn't judged by how it looked hanging on a wall—it was judged by whether it held together after years of riding rough country.

Today, only a small number of artisans continue that tradition.

Among them is rawhide braider Dakota May.

I had the opportunity to photograph Dakota at work, documenting not only the finished pieces but the quiet, methodical process behind them. It quickly became obvious that this isn't simply leatherwork or craftsmanship. It's the preservation of an entire way of life.

Hands stretching and securing a rawhide hide onto a metal frame as part of the drying process before braiding — The hide is stretched and secured to dry evenly before any strands are cut.

Dakota May standing beside a stretched rawhide hide drying on a round frame outside his workshop — A freshly stretched hide dries on a round frame while Dakota May prepares it for the careful work that follows, preserving techniques passed down through generations of Western craftsmen.

More Than Beautiful Gear

To someone unfamiliar with the West, a braided bosal or set of romal reins might appear to be decorative artwork.

To a working buckaroo, they're tools.

Every strand serves a purpose. Every knot has a function. Every decision affects how the finished piece balances, flexes and performs in the hands of a horseman.

That marriage of beauty and utility has always fascinated me.

The finest examples of Western craftsmanship rarely separate art from function. The object becomes beautiful precisely because it was made to work.

Dakota May inspecting a stretched rawhide hide as sunlight reveals the texture of the hair and hide before preparation — Examining the hide is one of the first steps before it is cut into working strands.

Dakota May using a traditional knife to remove flesh from a rawhide hide during the preparation process — The hide is carefully cleaned by hand before the braiding process begins.

Dakota May examining a rawhide hide against the sunlight to check its condition and consistency before processing — Natural light helps reveal subtle variations in the hide before preparation continues.

What Is Rawhide Braiding?

Unlike leather, rawhide is made from animal hide that has been cleaned, stretched and dried without tanning. The material is incredibly strong, but it demands patience and precision.

Before a single braid is started, hours of preparation go into the material itself.

The hide must be carefully prepared, cut into long continuous strands, beveled to create smooth edges, and brought to exactly the right moisture content before braiding begins. If it's too dry, it becomes brittle. Too wet, and it loses consistency. Experienced braiders develop an instinct for working the material at precisely the right moment.

Only then does the real work begin.

Hands cutting a prepared rawhide hide into long continuous strands using a traditional cutting tool — Each strip is cut with precision, creating long, consistent strands that will eventually become handmade cowboy gear through hours of patient braiding.

Dakota May using a beveling tool to shape a rawhide strand at his workbench before braiding — Each strand is shaped with a beveling tool before the braiding begins.

A Tradition Passed Between Cowboys

Rawhide braiding has deep roots in the vaquero traditions of Spain, Mexico and the American West. For generations, the knowledge was passed from one cowboy to another on working ranches throughout the Great Basin, where winter evenings often became time to repair tack and learn the craft from older hands. Along with the techniques came stories, ranch histories and a shared culture that helped preserve the traditions of the buckaroo.

That heritage is still visible today.

Every braided piece carries echoes of the generations who came before.

A rawhide strand being guided through a beveling tool by Dakota May during the preparation process — Every strip is shaped and refined before it becomes part of a bosal, reins, or other cowboy gear.

Photographing Dakota May

Walking into Dakota's workspace, what struck me first wasn't the finished gear.

It was the pace.

There was no rush.

The rhythm of the work seemed almost meditative.

Hands moved almost automatically, weaving one strand over another before tightening each braid with quiet confidence. Knives, gauges and braiding tools rested nearby, worn smooth from years of use. Coiled strands of rawhide waited patiently for their turn.

Photography often rewards dramatic moments.

This wasn't one of them.

Instead, it rewarded paying attention.

The subtle pull of a strand.

The texture of unfinished rawhide.

The concentration required to tie a knot that disappears into the overall pattern.

Those details tell the real story.

Close-up of hands weaving rawhide strands together to form a tight, even braid for handmade cowboy gear — Strand by strand, the braid takes shape through steady hands and practiced technique.

Dakota May tying a decorative knot on a braided rawhide piece while working at his bench — Each knot adds to the strength and balance of the finished rawhide reins.

Hands tying a decorative knot on a braided rawhide romal rein using a traditional braiding fid — Years of practice show in the smallest details, where decorative knots are tightened by hand to secure and finish the braid with precision.

Why Handmade Cowboy Gear Still Matters

Modern materials have replaced much of what working cowboys once relied on every day.

Synthetic ropes are stronger, cheaper and easier to maintain than traditional rawhide in many situations.

Yet handmade rawhide gear continues to be valued—not simply because of tradition, but because of the craftsmanship behind it.

Collectors appreciate it as functional art.

Horsemen appreciate the balance, feel and connection to generations of Western knowledge.

And for many makers, the process itself has become just as important as the finished product.

The work demands patience in a world that increasingly rewards speed.

Preserving the American West

One of the reasons I continue photographing working ranches and the people connected to them is because these traditions are easy to overlook.The American West isn't preserved only through landscapes or old photographs.

It's preserved through people.

Rawhide braiders like Dakota May.

Each carries forward knowledge that has survived because someone took the time to learn it—and then took the time to teach it to someone else.

Those are the stories that deserve to be documented.

Because while handmade gear can last for generations, the knowledge required to create it only survives if someone is willing to keep practicing the craft.

As a photographer, I feel fortunate to witness—and preserve—small pieces of that story.

A close-up of a finished handmade rawhide bosal showing intricate braided patterns and craftsmanship — The finished rawhide Bosal reflects hours of careful preparation.

A cowboy swings a rope from horseback while working cattle on a foggy morning at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — A calf is roped during ranch work on a foggy morning.

The Silver Spur Ranch - Cowboy Photography

Rob Hammer July 29, 2026

Authentic Cowboy Photography at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado

There are places where the seasons are measured less by the calendar than by the work that needs doing.

At Silver Spur Ranch in eastern Colorado, the cold times means calving and Summer brings long days horseback constantly moving cattle to fresh pasture. Winter has a way of stripping everything down to what matters. Through March snow, June grass, and December cold, the work stays much the same and so do the people who make their lives around it.

Over several visits to the Colorado division of Silver Spur Ranch near Elbert, I photographed cowboys riding health, moving cattle, and helping bring new calves into the world. Some moments were quiet. Others demanded quick decisions and hard work. None of it was staged.

These photographs are part of an ongoing effort to document the traditions, challenges, and everyday realities of working ranches across the American West.

Cowboys restrain a calf in open pasture during a branding operation at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Branding is a team effort that depends on timing and coordination.

A cowboy wearing a denim jacket and gloves holds a coffee mug inside a barn at Silver Spur Ranch — Coffee comes before another day of ranch work.

A Historic Working Ranch in Eastern Colorado

Silver Spur Ranch is one of the largest and most respected cattle operations in the United States, with divisions spread across several states and a long history of stewardship and ranching traditions. The Colorado division near Elbert sits among rolling grasslands and open country where cattle production and horsemanship remain central to everyday life.

Unlike the romanticized image often associated with the West, ranching here is defined by responsibility. The work changes with the seasons, but the commitment to the cattle never does.

For a photographer, that reality is far more compelling than anything that could be staged.

Riding Health and Moving Cattle Across Summer Pastures

Summer on the ranch means long days in the saddle.

Cowboys ride through the herd checking cattle, looking for animals that need attention and making sure everything is where it should be. Known simply as "riding health," it is one of the most important jobs on a working ranch.

The work often involves gathering and moving cattle to fresh pasture, covering miles of country on horseback and relying on generations of accumulated knowledge. There are no shortcuts. Just horses, cattle, and people with a deep knowledge of the complicated land they work.

Many of the photographs from my June visit show these moments—the dust, the movement, and the quiet conversations that happen between cowboys who have spent years working together.

A cowboy rides through cattle grazing in a wildflower-covered pasture — Checking cattle means covering miles of summer pasture on horseback.

Cattle wade through a stock pond while moving across pasture at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Cattle cross a stock pond on their way through summer pasture.

A cowboy rides horseback beside cattle grazing near a creek at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — The herd grazes through summer pasture as a cowboy checks cattle from horseback.

Cattle gather around a stock pond while cowboys on horseback watch from opposite sides of the pasture — Riders watch the herd as cattle gather around a stock pond.

Calving Season and the Realities of Ranch Life

Winter brings some of the most rewarding and demanding work of the year.

Calving season means long days and interrupted nights as cowboys and ranch crews monitor cows and newborn calves. Most births happen naturally, but ranch life doesn't always unfold according to plan.

During one visit, I documented manual extractions performed to save both cows and calves when complications arose. These are not easy moments to witness, but they are part of the responsibility that comes with caring for livestock.

They reveal something important about ranching. Behind every healthy calf is a tremendous amount of labor, experience, and commitment.

The photographs made during calving season tell a story that extends far beyond romantic ideas of the American West. They show the realities that sustain it.

A cowboy loads a newborn calf into the back of a ranch truck during calving season — An unhealthy calf is loaded onto a ranch truck during calving season.

A cowboy carries a newborn black calf across a snowy pasture at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado while cattle stand nearby — A cowboy carries a newborn calf back to the herd during calving season at Silver Spur Ranch.

A cowboy kneels beside a newborn calf while the herd watches nearby at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — The herd gathers nearby as a cowboy checks a newborn calf.

Winter at Silver Spur Ranch

December brings a different rhythm.

Snow, wind, and cold temperatures change the landscape, but the work continues. Horses still need to be saddled. Cattle still need to be checked. Equipment still needs attention.

Winter strips away distractions. What remains is a landscape defined by resilience and routine.

Some of my favorite photographs from Silver Spur Ranch were made during these colder months. The muted colors, the steam rising from horses, and the quiet atmosphere reveal another side of ranch life that often goes unseen.

A cowboy adjusts tack on a horse with frost covering its winter coat — Saddling a horse is the first task on a cold winter morning at Silver Spur Ranch.

A cowboy rides horseback down a fenced ranch road on a foggy morning at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Morning fog settles over the ranch as another day begins.

A cowboy rides horseback through frost-covered trees and brush at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Frost-covered pasture stretches ahead as cattle are checked from horseback.

A cowboy bottle-feeds a newborn calf inside the barn at Silver Spur Ranch — Bottle-feeding gives a newborn calf the extra care it needs during calving season at Silver Spur Ranch.

A cowboy opens a wire gate along a frost-covered fence line on a foggy morning at Silver Spur Ranch — Opening pasture gates is part of moving cattle across the ranch.

Cattle cross a snow-covered pasture while two riders appear on the horizon at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Cattle move across a snow-covered pasture as riders follow from a distance.

A frost-covered coyote hangs on a barbed wire fence at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — A coyote hangs on a fence line during winter.

Photographing Authentic Cowboy Culture on Working Ranches

Over the last several years, I've had the privilege of documenting working ranches throughout Colorado, Texas, Arizona, Nebraska, Montana, Wyoming, and Nevada.

What connects them all is authenticity.

The men and women in these photographs are not models. They are ranchers, cowboys, and families whose lives revolve around caring for livestock and preserving traditions that have been passed from one generation to the next.

Silver Spur Ranch represents one chapter in a much larger story—one that continues to unfold across the American West.

Cowboys work a restrained calf while horses stand nearby during branding at Silver Spur Ranch — Cowboys work a calf while their horses wait nearby.

A cowboy rides beside cattle gathered near a stock pond at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — The herd gathers near a stock pond as cattle are moved across pasture.

A cowboy's boots hang from the side of a ranch truck traveling a gravel road at Silver Spur Ranch — Travel between pastures is part of the daily routine.

A cowboy wearing sunglasses rides horseback at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Summer work continues from horseback across open country.

Fine Art Prints and Commercial Licensing

Photographs from Silver Spur Ranch and other working ranches are available as fine art prints for collectors, interior designers, and Western enthusiasts.

Images are also available for editorial and commercial licensing for brands, publications, and organizations seeking authentic photography of ranching and cowboy culture.

For print inquiries, licensing, or assignment work, please get in touch.

A cowboy swings a rope from horseback while moving cattle through pasture at Silver Spur Ranch — The herd moves steadily across summer pasture under the guidance of a cowboy on horseback.

A cowboy on horseback checks cattle across open pasture at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado, framed between two horses in the foreground — Riding health across open pasture is part of the daily routine.

A cowboy stands beside the barn during calving season at Silver Spur Ranch with a horse waiting behind him — A quiet moment between chores during calving season.

A herd of cattle emerges through heavy fog at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — A herd of cattle moves through dense morning fog.

A cowboy prepares supplies from the back of a ranch truck on a foggy morning at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Supplies are gathered from the back of a ranch truck before heading out for the day's work.

Branding tools, rope, antlers, and cowboy boots rest in the tailgate of a ranch truck at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Ranch tools wait on the tailgate before the day's work begins.

Cowboys on horseback pause beside a rocky overlook at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Cowboys pause on horseback before riding on.

Two ranch hands repair a fence in the snow at Silver Spur Ranch in Colorado — Winter fence repairs keep the ranch ready for another season at Silver Spur Ranch.

Cattle stand in feedyard pens at dawn with the feed mill and grain silos at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Dawn reveals the scale of Magnum Feedyard as cattle gather beneath the feed mill.

Magnum Feedyard - Colorado

Rob Hammer July 29, 2026

Inside a Cattle Feedyard: A Behind-the-Scenes Look at Magnum Feedyard

Most people will never step inside a working cattle feedyard.

They'll drive past one on a highway, catch a glimpse of thousands of cattle in the distance, and continue on their way. For many, it's simply another stop somewhere along the beef supply chain. But beyond the fences is an operation that begins long before sunrise and depends on an entire team of people whose work is rarely seen.

Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to photograph Magnum Feedyard near Wiggins, Colorado while on assignment for Mad Agriculture Magazine. Established in 1994, Magnum has grown from a modest feedyard into one of Colorado's largest feeding operations, caring for approximately 35,000 head of cattle while serving ranchers and cattle owners from across the region.

What surprised me most wasn't the scale. It was how much of the work still happens horseback and the care given to all of the cattle that go through the yard.

Black-and-white portrait of a cowboy wearing a wide-brimmed hat at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Ready for another morning at Magnum Feedyard.

Before Sunrise

Long before daylight reaches the eastern plains, the day is already underway.

Horse trailers pull into the yard.

Coffee is poured.

Saddles are lifted from racks worn smooth by years of use.

Boots that have seen countless miles step onto concrete before finding dirt only minutes later.

Pen rider on horseback follows cattle through an alley before sunrise at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Before sunrise, cattle move through the alleys under the watch of the morning crew.

Pen rider on horseback moves cattle through an alley before dawn at Magnum Feedyard — The day's work begins long before daylight reaches the plains.

The Cowboys of the Feedyard

One of the biggest misconceptions about feedyards is that they're entirely mechanical.

The feed trucks, mills and equipment are certainly impressive, but they don't replace experienced horsemen, because they know the correct way to work and care for cattle, is horseback.

Every morning, pen riders move quietly through thousands of cattle, looking for subtle changes that most people would never notice. A single animal that hangs back, walks differently or doesn't come to the feed bunk may need additional attention. Catching those signs early is an important part of keeping cattle healthy.

Watching these riders work, it became clear that this wasn't simply transportation. The horse remains one of the most effective tools on the operation.

Pen rider on horseback moves through cattle during morning checks at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Morning rounds begin on horseback as cattle settle into the day.

Cowboy stands beside horses before sunrise at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Horses are readied before the morning work begins.

Pen rider rides a gray horse through cattle pens at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Horseback remains one of the most effective ways to work cattle through the yard.

A Landscape Built for Cattle

At sunrise the scale of the yard begins to reveal itself.

Pens stretch toward the horizon.

Dust catches the morning light.

Steam rises from feed as trucks begin their routes.

The operation sits in Morgan County, one of Colorado's most productive agricultural regions, where nearby farms produce much of the corn and alfalfa that help feed cattle throughout the year. Magnum's location on Colorado's Eastern Plains provides ready access to feed resources while taking advantage of the region's dry climate, conditions well suited to cattle feeding.

Despite the size, there is an unexpected rhythm to the morning.

Nothing feels hurried.

Everyone simply knows where they need to be.

Cattle gather in a pen at dawn with the feed mill in the background at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Morning light reaches the cattle as another day begins at Magnum Feedyard.

View across cattle pens at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado during the early morning — Looking across the feedyard as the morning settles into its daily rhythm.

Cattle stand together in a pen at sunrise at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Sunrise filters across the pens as thousands of cattle begin the day.

Feeding Thousands of Animals

One of the most fascinating parts of the operation happens behind the scenes.

Large piles of corn, silage and other ingredients are blended into carefully formulated rations before being loaded into feed trucks that make their rounds throughout the yard.

Every ration is designed to meet the nutritional needs of the cattle at different stages of finishing, and consistency matters. Feed delivery, timing and animal observation all work together.

It's an enormous logistical operation, yet much of it unfolds with remarkable precision.

Cattle move through a dusty pen at sunrise inside Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Dust rises as cattle move through the pens in the early morning light.

Wheel loader moves feed ingredients beneath the feed mill at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Feed ingredients begin their journey through the mill before the trucks head out.

Feed truck is loaded beneath the feed mill at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Feed trucks are loaded before making their rounds through the yard.

Details That Tell the Story

Some of my favorite photographs from the assignment weren't made outside.

They were inside the barns and break rooms.

A pair of worn boots.

Cowboy hats hanging above lockers.

Well-used saddles.

Quiet portraits made before the day began.

These small details say as much about the place as the sweeping views across thousands of cattle.

They're reminders that, despite the size of the operation, everything ultimately depends on people showing up every morning to do demanding work with care and consistency.

Cowboy smiles while preparing his horse inside the barn at Magnum Feedyard — A quiet moment inside the barn before heading out for the day.

Cowboy boots and hats rest on lockers inside the break room in Colorado — Cowboy hats and well-worn boots wait above the lockers until the next shift begins.

Close-up of a well-worn cowboy boot with a spur at Magnum Feedyard — Years of work are visible in a well-worn cowboy boot and spur.

Cowboy hats, jackets, gloves, boots, and work gear hang inside the locker room at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Everyday work gear hangs ready for another morning in the feedyard.

Looking Beyond the Fence

Feedyards are often discussed from a distance.

Sometimes they're reduced to headlines, assumptions or debates.

Standing inside one is different.

You see the riders leaving before dawn.

You watch cattle quietly follow horses through the alleys.

You notice the attention paid to individual animals, the choreography of feeding, and the thousands of small decisions that keep an operation running.

Whether someone arrives with a background in agriculture or simply a curiosity about where their food comes from, spending time inside a working feedyard offers a perspective that's difficult to gain from the outside.

For me, it was an opportunity to document a place that most people will never see—and the people whose work begins long before the rest of us are awake.

Pen rider sits on a gray horse with a coiled rope at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Horse and rider pause between morning tasks.

Cowboy kneels beside a calf in a grassy pasture at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Some moments require getting off the horse.

Black-and-white portrait of a pen rider at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Portrait of a pen rider whose work begins long before most people are awake.

Part Of A Larger Story

For the last 6+ years I’ve been photographing working cowboys on historic ranches across the American West. And while doesn’t quite fit into that role, it’s still part of the entire process required to keep the world fed with beef. So I’m grateful to have seen it first hand and to share the work with you in hopes that you’ll see how humane these operations are - the opposite of what most news headlines will have you believe.

View the full cowboy photography gallery

View fine art prints from the cowboy series

Cowboy stands beside a saddled horse inside the barn at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Horse and rider wait together before heading into the yard.

Two pen riders stand beside their horses inside the barn at Magnum Feedyard in Colorado — Portrait of two cowboys and their horses in the barn at the Magnum Feedyard

Black and white Western photograph of two riders on horseback in rocky canyon country — Two riders pause in canyon country, one of the quieter Western scenes from the long-term ranch photography project.

Summer 2026 Art Festivals and Exhibitions

Rob Hammer June 24, 2026

Western Art Festivals - Summer 2026

Most photographs spend their lives on screens.

They are viewed quickly, often while waiting in line at the store or sitting at a traffic light, then replaced by the next image without much thought at all. Prints are different. They ask people to slow down.

This summer I'll be exhibiting a selection of photographs from Calves to the Fire, my long-term project documenting working ranches and cowboy culture across the American West. The photographs have been made over the last 6 years while spending time on historic ranches in Nevada, Arizona, Texas, Montana, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Oregon, and beyond.

If you're attending any of these events, I hope you'll stop by and spend some time with the work.

Western ranch photograph of cowboys holding ropes among horses and dust — Dust hangs around the horses as two cowboys work through the herd, a direct scene from the working West.

Cherry Creek Arts Festival

The summer begins with the Cherry Creek Arts Festival in Denver, one of the country's premier outdoor art events.

I'll be exhibiting large statement pieces along with smaller framed photographs from Calves to the Fire. These authentic photogaphs were made while documenting cowboys and working ranch families whose traditions have been passed down through generations.

Art on the Rockies

Art on the Rockies provides a mountain setting that feels right at home with photographs rooted in the landscapes and traditions of the American West.

The work on display reflects years spent following the rhythms of ranch life, from gathering cattle and catching horses to the quieter moments that often say just as much about the people and places behind the work.

Black and white Western landscape photograph of a weathered wooden corral with mountains in the background — An old wooden corral sits below the Grand Teton Mountains, showing the Western landscapes that shape much of the work.

Jackson Hole Art Fair

Few places are more closely connected to the spirit of the American West, and I'm looking forward to bringing these photographs to Wyoming. Many of the prints on display represent years of returning to the same ranches and developing relationships with the families and cowboys who have trusted me with their stories.

Golden Fine Arts Festival

The final stop of the summer will be the Golden Fine Arts Festival, which has long attracted collectors and visitors from throughout Colorado's Front Range.

This exhibition will feature a collection of limited edition cowboy prints ranging from large statement pieces to smaller framed photographs. Whether someone is looking for a photograph for their home or simply enjoys stories from the American West, one of the best parts of exhibiting is the conversations that happen around the work.

Dramatic black and white photograph of cowboys riding across open range — Riders spread across open range beneath a wide sky, a scene rooted in the ranch culture behind the collection.

Why I Still Believe in Prints

A photograph changes when it becomes a print.

Details emerge. Scale matters. The textures and tones become easier to appreciate. More importantly, the stories behind the photographs become easier to understand.

After fifteen years of working on this project, one of the most rewarding parts has been seeing people connect with the images in person. Exhibiting at art festivals remains one of the few opportunities to share that experience face to face.

I hope to see you somewhere along the way this summer.

Black and white Western photograph of saddle leather, stirrup, horse, and cattle on a working ranch — Details of worn leather, cowboy books, spurs, and cattle in the distance show the kind of working ranch scenes at the center of Calves to the Fire.

Collecting Cowboy Photography Prints

Limited edition prints from Calves to the Fire are available throughout the year. The collection includes photographs of branding crews, buckaroos, ranch landscapes, and the traditions that continue to shape the American West.

View the limited edition cowboy prints

Large framed Western photography print of riders in canyon country displayed above a living room sofa — A large framed print brings a scene from the American West into a home setting, similar to the work on display at this summer’s art festivals.

Artwork featured on the set of Dutton Ranch

Rob Hammer June 24, 2026

Cowboy Photography Featured on the Set of Dutton Ranch

Recently, one of my cowboy photography prints appeared on the set of Dutton Ranch, the latest series set within the world of the modern American West.

It wasn't the first time my work has found its way onto a television set. Previously, four of my photographs were used on the set of Yellowstone, where they appeared as part of the visual landscape of one of the most successful Western dramas in recent memory.

As a photographer who has spent years documenting working ranches, cowboys, and ranching culture throughout the American West, those placements feel particularly meaningful. The photographs weren't created for television. They were made while documenting real people, real ranches, and a way of life that continues to shape the region today.

Seeing those images incorporated into productions that have helped reignite public interest in the American West is a reminder that authentic Western imagery still resonates with audiences far beyond ranch country.

Like many photographers, I've had images published in magazines, licensed for commercial campaigns, and exhibited in galleries. Seeing a photograph become part of a television production is a different experience altogether. Rather than serving as the subject of a story, the image becomes part of the environment itself—helping establish a sense of place, history, and authenticity within the world being portrayed on screen.

Two cowboys on horseback standing on a canyon ledge in a black and white Western landscape — Two riders pause on a canyon ledge, showing the kind of real Western imagery that gives the cowboy photography project its sense of place.

The Importance of Authentic Western Imagery

The popularity of Western television and film has created renewed interest in the people, places, and traditions that continue to define ranching culture throughout the American West.

Audiences are increasingly drawn to stories that feel authentic. Whether it's a working ranch in Texas, a historic cattle operation in Nevada, or a multi-generational ranching family in Nebraska, viewers can recognize the difference between imagery that is staged and imagery that reflects lived experience.

Production designers and set decorators understand this better than anyone.

Every object that appears on screen helps establish the identity of a character, a family, or a place. The artwork hanging on a wall becomes part of that visual storytelling.

When a production chooses photography from real ranches and real working cowboys, it helps create a more believable world.

Photographing the Modern American West

The photographs featured on the set is part of an ongoing documentary project focused on cowboy culture and ranching communities throughout the American West.

Over the past several years, I've traveled countless miles documenting historic ranches, branding crews, horse wranglers, ranch families, saddle makers, artists, and working cowboys whose lives remain deeply connected to the land.

The goal has never been to recreate a romanticized version of the West.

Instead, the project focuses on the people who continue to live it every day.

The ranches may differ in size and geography, but many share the same values: hard work, stewardship, resilience, and a strong connection to tradition.

Those qualities continue to resonate far beyond ranch country.

Why Western Art Matters in Interior Spaces

One of the things I enjoy most about creating fine art prints is seeing where they ultimately end up.

Some are installed in private homes.

Others find their way into ranch headquarters, lodges, hospitality projects, corporate offices, and Western-inspired interiors.

A television set adds another chapter to that story.

In each case, the photograph becomes more than an image on a wall. It contributes to the atmosphere of a space and helps tell a larger story about the people who inhabit it.

The best Western artwork doesn't simply depict the West—it reflects the character, history, and culture behind it.

Cowboy photography print displayed on the wall behind a dining table scene on Dutton Ranch — Rob Hammer’s cowboy photography print appears on the set of Dutton Ranch as part of the room’s Western set decor.

From Working Ranches to Television Screens

What makes this placement especially meaningful is that the photograph originated in the same world the series seeks to portray.

The image wasn't made on a movie set.

It wasn't created during a commercial production.

It was made while documenting real people and real ranching communities across the American West.

That authenticity has become one of the defining themes of the project, and it's gratifying to see those photographs continue to find new audiences through publications, exhibitions, private collections, and now television.

Cowboy Photography Prints from the American West

Many of the photographs from this ongoing project are available as museum-quality limited edition prints.

Collectors, ranch owners, designers, and hospitality clients have incorporated the work into homes, offices, lodges, and Western-inspired interiors throughout the country.

Each photograph is rooted in real places and real experiences, offering a contemporary look at ranching culture and life in the American West.

Explore More from the Cowboy Project

The image featured on the set of Dutton Ranch represents one photograph from a much larger body of work documenting cowboy culture across the American West.

Additional stories from the project include historic ranches, working cowboys, ranch families, Western artists, saddle makers, and the landscapes that continue to shape the region.

Together, they form an ongoing visual record of a culture that remains both enduring and relevant in the modern world.

While trends come and go, the stories of the American West continue to resonate. Seeing one of these photographs become part of a television production is a reminder that authentic Western imagery still holds a powerful place in the cultural imagination.

Cowboys on horseback gathered with a large horse herd in open ranch country beneath a wide sky — A horse herd gathers in open ranch country, reflecting the working landscapes and ranch culture behind Rob Hammer’s Western photography.

Cowboy moving cattle through dusty ranch country in the American West — Everyday ranch work across the American West continues to shape the larger story of contemporary cowboy life.

Daily Mail Features Cowboy Photography Project

Rob Hammer June 9, 2026

The Enduring Appeal of the American Cowboy

Several years ago, a selection of photographs from my ongoing cowboy series was featured by the Daily Mail, one of the largest news publications in the world. The article introduced millions of readers to images made on working ranches across the American West—photographs of branding crews, ranch families, horse wranglers, and cowboys whose lives remain closely tied to the land.

What struck me most about the feature wasn't the size of the audience. It was the realization that people from all over the world continue to be fascinated by the American cowboy.

In an age dominated by technology, social media, and constant connectivity, there is still something compelling about a way of life built around livestock, weather, horses, and hard physical work. The cowboy remains one of the most recognizable figures in American culture, but the reality of modern ranching is often very different from the version portrayed in movies and television.

For the last several years, I’ve had the honor of documenting that reality.

Portrait of a cowboy wearing a dark hat and neck scarf during a documentary photography project — Portraits like this keep the focus on the real people behind the cowboy photography project.

Branding irons and gloved ranch hands photographed during a working ranch documentary project — Details from the project show the tools, labor, and traditions that remain part of working ranch culture.

Beyond the Hollywood Cowboy

The American West has produced no shortage of myths. Popular culture has given us gunfighters, outlaws, and dramatic showdowns, but the people I've photographed spend their days doing something far less glamorous and far more important.

They mend fences.

They raise cattle.

They care for horses.

They watch the weather.

They work long days in conditions that can shift from scorching heat to blowing snow.

The photographs in this project were not staged. There were no actors, no wardrobe stylists, and no manufactured moments. Every image was made while documenting real people engaged in the work that sustains ranches throughout the West.

That authenticity is what drew me to the subject in the first place.

Tents and cattle beneath a rainbow on open ranch land in the American West — Open land, changing weather, livestock, and camp life all appear throughout the cowboy photography project.

Horses moving through dust during a documentary photography project in the American West — Dust, movement, and horse work are part of everyday ranch life across the American West.

Photographing Working Ranches Across the American West

The project has taken me across thousands of miles and some of the most historic ranching country in North America.

From the legendary 6666 Ranch in Texas to multi-generational family operations in Nebraska, and other iconic ranches in Arizona, Montana, and Oregon, I've spent time with people whose families have often worked the same land for generations.

I've photographed branding days where hundreds of calves move through the branding pen in a matter of hours. I've ridden horseback before sunrise, stood in dust-filled corrals, and watched crews work together with a level of efficiency that only comes from a lifetime of experience.

These ranches differ in size, geography, and history, but they share a common thread: a commitment to preserving a way of life that continues to play an important role in the American West.

The work is demanding, but it is also deeply rooted in tradition, responsibility, and community.

Cowboy riding horseback near cattle on open ranch land in the American West — Working ranch photography from the project shows the daily movement of cattle across open country in the American West.

Cowboys working together during a cattle branding on a ranch in the American West — Cowboys work together during a branding, one of the long-standing traditions documented throughout the project.

Why the Cowboy Still Matters

The enduring appeal of the cowboy isn’t about the hat, the boots, or the horse.

It's about values.

Self-reliance.

Resilience.

Stewardship.

Responsibility.

The people I've met while making this project are not interested in becoming symbols or cultural icons. Most are simply focused on the work that needs to be done each day.

Yet those values continue to resonate with people far beyond ranching communities.

Perhaps that is why stories about cowboys continue to capture attention around the world. They represent a connection to something tangible and enduring in a culture that often feels increasingly disconnected from the physical world.

The fascination isn't nostalgia for the past.

It's admiration for people who continue to live with purpose, skill, and a strong sense of responsibility to the land and animals in their care.

Horses moving through dust with a cowboy visible in the background — Images like this show the physical reality of ranch work and the enduring relationship between cowboys, horses, and the land.

Cowboy on horseback handling a rope while working cattle during a documentary photography project — Real ranch work remains at the center of the cowboy photography project, from horseback work to dust, cattle, and movement.

The Daily Mail Feature

When the Daily Mail published a selection of photographs from the project, readers from around the world were introduced to scenes from modern ranch life.

The feature highlighted working cowboys, branding crews, and ranch families whose stories rarely make headlines but whose work remains essential to the agricultural landscape of the American West.

For me, the article served as a reminder that authentic stories still matter. Despite the differences between urban and rural life, people remain curious about how others live and work. The response to the photographs demonstrated that genuine documentary imagery continues to connect with audiences regardless of geography.

Cowboy Photography -Editorial - Rob Hammer - Daily Mail

Black and white portrait of a cowboy wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses — A quiet moment between work shows another side of contemporary cowboy culture in the American West.

Cowboy Photography Prints and Western Wall Art

Many of the photographs from this project are available as museum-quality limited edition prints.

Collectors, ranch owners, interior designers, and hospitality clients have incorporated the work into homes, offices, lodges, and Western-inspired spaces throughout the country.

Printed on archival materials and produced to museum standards, these photographs are intended to preserve a visual record of contemporary ranch life while honoring the people who make it possible.

View the cowboy print collection

Cowboy riding horseback with a rope while working cattle in the American West — Horseback work remains one of the defining parts of ranching tradition in the American West.

Photograph of a working cowboy pulling a branding iron from a fire during ranch work — Authentic ranch work often includes the practical details that rarely appear in popular portrayals of cowboy culture.

Explore More from the Cowboy Project

The Daily Mail feature represents only a small portion of a much larger body of work.

Additional stories from the project include photographs from historic ranches, profiles of working cowboys, ranching families, saddle makers, boot makers, and artists whose lives remain connected to the culture of the American West.

Together, these stories form an ongoing effort to document a way of life that continues to evolve while remaining firmly rooted in tradition.

The American cowboy may be one of the most recognizable figures in the world, but behind the myth are real people doing real work. Those are the stories that continue to draw me back to the ranches, year after year.

View the full cowboy photography gallery

Contact me directly to inquire about editorial and commercial licensing - rob@robhammerphotography.com

Cowboys on horseback moving cattle across open ranch country beneath a large sky — Scenes like this reflect the scale, teamwork, and tradition that continue to define contemporary cowboy culture.

Cowboys on horseback watching cattle move through dusty ranch pens in the American West — Cowboys push cattle move through the pens, showing the steady coordination behind everyday ranch work.

Group of cowboys on horseback photographed in open ranch country in the American West — Photographs from the project show the people, horses, and open landscapes that continue to define the American cowboy.

The VFW Post 9644 sign stands outside the hall where the veterans campaign was photographed.

Photographing Real Veterans for a Brand Campaign

Rob Hammer June 9, 2026

Authenticity Matters: Photographing Real Veterans for a Brand Campaign

In an era when many advertising campaigns rely on actors, carefully constructed sets, and highly controlled environments, authenticity has become one of the most valuable assets a brand can have.

People are remarkably good at recognizing when something feels genuine—and when it doesn't.

That idea was at the center of a recent assignment I photographed for Twisted X. The campaign celebrated America's upcoming 250th anniversary and a partnership with the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW). Rather than building a set or hiring actors to portray veterans, the decision was made to photograph real veterans in a real VFW hall.

For me, that choice made all the difference.

Close detail of Twisted X shoes with American flag patches inside a VFW hall — Twisted X shoes with American flag details are photographed inside the VFW hall used for the campaign.

Veterans talk near the mosaic wall inside the VFW hall during the brand campaign.

Two people embracing inside a VFW hall with a VFW hat and wall memorabilia visible — A personal moment inside the VFW hall reflects the real relationships and community surrounding the campaign.

A veteran sits for a close portrait in warm directional light during the campaign.

Why Authenticity Matters in Brand Photography

Brands often talk about authenticity, but creating images that genuinely feel authentic is more difficult than it sounds.

The strongest photographs rarely come from trying to manufacture reality. They come from finding people who have a genuine connection to the story being told and allowing that connection to come through naturally.

Audiences can sense the difference.

Whether the subject is a cowboy, a fly fishing guide, a tradesperson, or a military veteran, real experience brings a depth that is difficult to replicate.

The best brand photography doesn't simply show people. It communicates something about who they are.

A wider view of the VFW hall shows the real community setting behind the veterans brand campaign.

Inside the VFW hall, veterans gather at a table with an American flag hanging behind them.

Twisted X shoes appear in a low-angle detail from inside the VFW hall during the campaign.

The VFW hall gives the campaign a real setting, with veterans, guests, portraits, and memorabilia filling the room.

A close detail of Twisted X boots places the product naturally within the VFW hall setting.

Photographing Real Veterans

For this campaign, the subjects were not actors hired to play a role.

They were veterans whose lives and experiences gave genuine meaning to the project.

The assignment took place inside a VFW hall filled with the photographs, memorabilia, and history that naturally accumulate in places where veterans gather and maintain connections with their communities and one another.

Nothing about the environment needed to be manufactured.

The location already contained the character and authenticity that the campaign required.

Instead of directing subjects to act like veterans, the focus could remain on creating honest portraits and moments that reflected who they actually were.

That authenticity became one of the defining strengths of the imagery.

Inside the VFW hall, people gather at tables while the campaign takes place in a real community setting.

A group gathers for a photo inside the VFW hall during the veterans brand campaign.

Bingo cards, drinks, and cash on a table inside a VFW hall — Bingo cards, drinks, and small details from the table show the everyday setting inside the VFW hall.

A veteran wearing a Desert Storm Veteran cap sits in warm indoor light during the Twisted X campaign.

Beneath a wooden chair, a Twisted X shoe appears naturally within the everyday setting of the VFW hall.

Real Places Tell Better Stories

The same principle applies to locations.

Many productions spend significant resources trying to recreate environments that already exist.

For this assignment, there was no need.

The VFW hall provided a setting filled with visual details that could never be convincingly reproduced on a soundstage. Photographs on the walls, flags, plaques, and decades of accumulated history all contributed to the atmosphere.

These elements weren't props.

They were part of the story.

Photographing in a real environment creates layers of meaning that help viewers connect with an image on a deeper level, even if they can't immediately identify why.

Seen through the front window, the VFW hall shows the real community setting behind the veterans campaign.

A close detail of boots beneath the table keeps the product connected to the real VFW hall setting.

Veterans and community members sit together inside the VFW hall during the brand photography campaign.

Twisted X boots are photographed on the tile floor inside the real setting of the veterans campaign.

Inside the VFW hall, a veteran gestures while talking with others at the table.

The Connection to My Larger Body of Work

One of the reasons this assignment felt so natural is that it followed the same approach I've used throughout much of my photography career.

Whether documenting real people at work, cowboys, barbershops in all 50 states, fly fisherman, or small-town American communities, I've always been drawn to people who have a genuine connection to their environment and way of life.

The goal is never to create a version of authenticity.

The goal is to photograph authenticity itself.

Many of the strongest images from my long-term cowboy project were made because real people allowed me access to their lives and work. The same principle applied here.

The veterans didn't need to become characters.

They simply needed to be themselves.

Inside the VFW hall, the campaign moves through real conversations and everyday moments.

A veteran wearing a U.S. Army hat shares a laugh at the table inside the VFW hall.

People gather around the tables for bingo inside the VFW hall during the veterans brand campaign.

Veterans seated on a leather couch beneath rows of portraits inside a VFW hall — Veterans sit beneath rows of portraits inside the VFW hall, surrounded by the history of the post.

Why Real People Create Better Brand Stories

Brands are increasingly recognizing that audiences respond to honesty.

The most memorable campaigns often succeed because they are rooted in something real. Real experiences. Real places. Real people.

That doesn't mean every campaign must take a documentary approach. It does mean that authenticity should be considered at every stage of the creative process.

When brands build campaigns around people who genuinely embody the values they hope to communicate, the resulting imagery tends to feel more believable, more relatable, and ultimately more effective.

The camera can record a great deal of information.

What it records especially well is truth.

Veterans talk and laugh at the bar inside the VFW hall during the brand campaign.

Close detail of boots and shoes worn by people seated at a bar inside a VFW hall — A detail of boots and shoes beneath the bar keeps the product photography tied to the real VFW hall setting.

The VFW hall provides the real setting for the veterans brand campaign, with portraits and memorabilia visible throughout the room.

Authentic Photography for Brands and Agencies

Assignments like this are a reminder that great brand photography begins long before the shutter is pressed.

It starts with identifying authentic stories and the people best suited to tell them.

Whether working with ranchers, veterans, tradespeople, outdoor professionals, or other communities, my goal remains the same: create photographs that feel honest, grounded, and connected to real experience.

The strongest stories rarely need to be invented.

They are already there, waiting to be documented.

Additional Commercial Photography Projects

This campaign is one example of a broader body of commercial and documentary work focused on authentic people and authentic places.

From working ranches and Western brands to outdoor, agricultural, and lifestyle assignments, these projects share a common philosophy: real stories create stronger photographs.

Explore additional commercial photography projects, cowboy culture stories, and documentary work from across the American West and beyond.

Outside the VFW hall, a veteran sits on a motorcycle with Twisted X boots visible in the frame.

Twisted X boots are photographed beside a motorcycle outside the VFW hall, keeping the product tied to the real campaign setting.

Outside the VFW hall, a veteran stands beside his motorcycle beneath the American flag and POW/MIA flag.

Ward Ranches bull sale sign along a road in Nevada — A Ward Ranches bull sale sign marks the way to the sale grounds in Nevada.

Inside a Nevada Bull Sale

Rob Hammer June 9, 2026

Inside a Nevada Bull Sale: Ranchers, Cattle, and Cowboy Culture

When most people think about cowboy culture, they picture horses, branding crews, and vast landscapes stretching toward the horizon. Those things certainly exist, but they are only part of the story.

The ranching industry is built on countless events, decisions, and relationships that happen away from the spotlight. One of those places is the bull sale.

These photographs were made at a bull sale in Gardnerville, Nevada, where ranchers from across the region gathered to evaluate cattle, reconnect with friends and neighbors, and make decisions that would influence their operations for years to come.

For an outsider, it might appear to be a simple livestock auction. In reality, it offered a fascinating glimpse into the people, traditions, and business of ranching in the American West.

I Love Beef bumper sticker on a truck near livestock trailers at a Nevada bull sale — An I Love Beef sticker sits on the back of a truck at the Nevada bull sale.

Rancher standing by cattle pens with numbered sale list at a Nevada bull sale — A rancher stands beside the cattle pens as numbered bulls move through the sale grounds in Gardnerville, Nevada.

More Than a Livestock Auction

A bull sale serves an important role within the cattle industry.

Ranchers attend to evaluate genetics, improve their herds, and invest in the future of their operations. The bulls that change hands during a single sale may influence cattle programs for years, making these events far more significant than a typical auction.

Yet what interested me most wasn't the cattle.

It was the people.

The sale brought together ranchers, cowboys, families, and livestock producers from across Nevada and neighboring states. Long before the first bid was placed, conversations were already happening in the aisles, around the cattle pens, and over a hot lunch.

The event felt as much like a community gathering as it did a business transaction.

Rancher standing near black bulls in outdoor pens at a Nevada bull sale — A rancher walks along the fence line beside black bulls at the Nevada bull sale.

Woman standing on a cattle pen rail at a Nevada bull sale — A woman stands on the pen rail above the sale grounds during a bull sale in Nevada.

Number 185 marked on a black Angus bull at a Nevada bull sale — A sale number is marked on a black Angus bull during the Nevada bull sale.

Photographing the Ranching Community

One of the things that immediately stood out was the diversity of people in attendance.

Young ranchers walked the pens alongside older cattlemen who had spent decades in the industry. Multi-generational families studied livestock together. Friends who may not have seen one another since the previous sale stopped to catch up and exchange stories.

The atmosphere was relaxed but purposeful.

Everywhere I looked, there were moments that reflected the culture surrounding ranching in the American West. A quiet conversation between old friends. A rancher carefully evaluating a bull. A weathered face shaped by years spent working outdoors.

These small moments often reveal more about a community than the headline events themselves.

Man serving food to ranchers during a Nevada bull sale — Ranchers and sale attendees line up for lunch during a bull sale in Gardnerville, Nevada.

Ranchers and sale attendees getting lunch during a Nevada bull sale — Ranchers and sale attendees gather for lunch during a bull sale in Nevada.

A Window Into Nevada Cowboy Culture

Nevada is home to some of the largest and most historic ranching operations in the country, yet much of that world remains invisible to people outside the agricultural community.

Events like this provide a rare opportunity to see the culture behind the imagery often associated with the American cowboy.

The hats, boots, and horses are certainly part of the story, but they are secondary to something deeper.

What stood out most was the sense of responsibility.

The people attending this sale were making decisions that affected their families, their businesses, and the future of their operations. Ranching remains a demanding profession that requires equal parts knowledge, adaptability, and persistence.

The photographs from this day reflect a community that continues to evolve while remaining deeply connected to its traditions.

Angus cattle brochure with bull illustration on a desk at a Gardnerville Nevada bull sale — An Angus sale catalog sits on a desk during the Nevada bull sale.

Ranchers seated during a Nevada bull sale with bull images shown on screens — Ranchers watch from their seats as bull images are shown during the Nevada bull sale.

Crowd seated inside a bull sale auction in Gardnerville Nevada — Ranchers and families fill the auction room during a bull sale in Gardnerville, Nevada.

One Day That Led to a Larger Project

It would be impossible to think that sitting in an empty firehouse parking lot in 2021, eating a sandwich on my tailgate would lead to 6+ year (ongoing) project about cowboys in the American West, but it did. The idea for Calves to the Fire had been swirling around in my head for quite some time prior to that day, but as an outsider to such an isolated and foreign culture, I just couldn’t figure my way in. Up until then I’d driven countless miles driving through Western states, photographing subjects adjacent to true cowboy culture, but nothing that led anywhere or meant anything.

Long story short, I’m sitting in the firehouse parking lot, eating lunch out of the cooler when a big pick-up barrels in along side me and the window goes down. There are two guys inside, open beers in the console, and they waste no time asking “do you know where the bull sale is?” At the time I had no idea what a bull sale was. Still though, my knee jerk reaction was “I don’t, but it sounds fun. Can I go?” After a little back and forth they gave me enough info to find the place, so I show up and introduce myself to Gary Ward; owner of Ward Bull Sales. He warmly invited me in to what felt literally like another world. My head was spinning with fascination and curiosity while I did my best to blend into the background and make some photographs. After the event was over I headed back out to the truck where I was asked by a few local cowboys, “What are you doing?” It was hard to tell if the question came from genuine interest or if it was a get the hell out of here! Either way, I answered honestly, telling them how I was trying to start a photography project on cowboys. Apparently it was my lucky day, because one of them invited me to their branding the following month, and the rest is sorta history.

I’m a believer that putting yourself out into the universe in a kind and caring way will produce the results you desire. And after more than a year of trying to start this project, the answer finally came in the form of two drunk fellas in an F350. Had I just left it at “no, I don’t know where the bull sale is”, then who knows where I’d be today? Instead, it’s an honor to say the cowboy who invited me to his branding is someone I’m proud to still call a friend 6 years later.

Auctioneer in a cowboy hat calling bids in front of ranchers at a Nevada bull sale — An auctioneer calls bids as ranchers follow the sale from their seats.

Ranchers and families seated during a Nevada bull auction — Ranchers and families watch the auction during a bull sale in Gardnerville, Nevada.

Rancher reviewing a bull sale catalog during a Nevada bull sale — A rancher reviews the sale catalog during the Nevada bull auction.

Ranchers seated with sale catalogs during a Nevada bull sale — Ranchers sit with sale catalogs while following the Nevada bull auction.

Exploring the Cowboy Project

These photographs represent one chapter in an ongoing body of work focused on ranching and cowboy culture throughout the American West.

Additional stories from the project include historic ranches, working cowboys, western artists, saddle makers, and the landscapes that continue to define the region.

Together, they form a broader portrait of a culture that is often misunderstood, frequently romanticized, and very much alive.

While the images of cowboys on horseback may capture the imagination, places like this Nevada bull sale help tell the rest of the story.

View the full cowboy photography gallery

View the cowboy print collection

Auctioneer calling bids beside another man in a cowboy hat during a Nevada bull sale — An auctioneer calls bids from the floor as the bull sale continues in Nevada.

Young boy in a cowboy hat standing outside a window at a Nevada bull sale — A young boy in a cowboy hat looks through the window during a bull sale in Nevada.

Young boy in a cowboy hat sitting on a fence near cattle pens at a Nevada bull sale — A young boy sits on the fence near the cattle pens during a Nevada bull sale.

Patsy's Barbershop: A Barbershop That Still Feels Like a Barbershop

Rob Hammer June 4, 2026

Inside One of Albany's Most Classic Barbershops

I grew up just outside Albany, New York.

While Albany wasn't technically my hometown, it was where I learned my way around the world beyond the small town where I was raised. For years, I thought I knew the city pretty well.

Yet somehow I never stepped inside Patsy's Barbershop.

By the time I finally photographed the shop, I was already thirteen (2024) years into the Barbershops of America project and had documented hundreds of barbershops across all 50 states. I had photographed shops in major cities, tiny rural towns, and everywhere in between. What I didn't expect was to find one of the most visually striking traditional barbershops in America just a few miles from where I grew up.

That's one of the things I've learned from this project. Some of the most remarkable places aren't found across the country. They're hiding in plain sight.

Patsy's Barbershop is one of those places.

Photograph of a beautiful traditional barbershop in Albany, NY — Traditional barbershop in Albany, NY

A Hidden Institution in Downtown Albany

For generations, Patsy's has served an unusually diverse cross-section of Albany.

Governors and state legislators have sat in the same chairs as construction workers, tradesmen, state employees, lawyers, small business owners, and lifelong residents of New York's capital city. Few businesses naturally bring together people from such different walks of life, but traditional barbershops have always been an exception.

The clientele reflects Albany itself.

As the seat of New York State government, Albany has long been a city where politics, public service, business, and blue-collar work intersect. Patsy's sits comfortably at the center of that world, quietly serving customers without fanfare while becoming part of the daily rhythm of the city.

What makes the shop remarkable, however, isn't just who walks through the door.

It's the space itself.

Barber giving a straight razor shave at Patsy’s Barbershop in Albany New York — A straight razor shave takes place inside Patsy’s Barbershop, surrounded by the shop’s preserved interior.

An Interior From Another Era

The moment you step inside Patsy's, it's clear that you're looking at something increasingly rare.

Dark wood paneling stretches the length of the shop. Built-in waiting benches line the walls beneath a series of geometric mirrors that feel lifted from another era of American design. The green-and-white tile floor, vintage barber chairs, old clocks, display cabinets, and original fixtures create an environment that feels almost untouched by time.

Many historic barbershops survive in name only. Over the decades, renovations replace original features, interiors become modernized, and the character that once defined the space slowly disappears.

Patsy's is different.

The shop doesn't feel vintage because someone intentionally recreated the look. It feels authentic because it never stopped being what it was.

The waiting area alone is enough to stop visitors in their tracks. The woodwork, individual seating sections, and Art Deco-inspired mirrors create one of the most distinctive barbershop interiors I've encountered anywhere in the country.

After photographing hundreds of shops, that's not something I say lightly.

Traditional Barbering Still Matters

What makes Patsy's especially compelling is that it isn't a museum.

The shop remains a working business, and the traditions that shaped it continue to play a role in daily life.

Hot towels still find their way across customers' faces. Straight razors are still used with care and precision. Haircuts aren't rushed. Attention to detail still matters.

At the same time, the current generation of barbers has brought its own personality to the shop.

The contrast is striking. A barber with tattoos and a contemporary style works beneath mirrors and woodwork that have been part of the shop for decades. The visual difference between past and present is obvious, yet it never feels out of place.

Instead, it feels like the natural evolution of a healthy business.

The shop respects its history without becoming trapped by it.

Green and white tile floor with vintage barber chairs at Patsy’s Barbershop in Albany New York — Green-and-white tile, built-in benches, and vintage barber chairs define the preserved interior of Patsy’s Barbershop.

A Barbershop That Still Feels Like a Barbershop

One thing I've noticed while documenting barbershops across America is that the rarest shops aren't necessarily the oldest.

The rarest shops are the ones that have managed to remain useful.

They continue serving their communities. They adapt when necessary. New generations step behind the chairs while preserving the qualities that made the shop important in the first place.

Patsy's embodies that balance.

The woodwork remains. The tile floor remains. The chairs remain. The atmosphere remains.

Most importantly, people still walk through the door every day for the same reason they always have.

To get a haircut.

To sit for a shave.

To take part in a tradition that has quietly connected generations of Americans.

After thirteen years of photographing barbershops across the country, finding a place like Patsy's so close to home was a reminder that remarkable places don't always announce themselves.

Sometimes they've been there all along, waiting for you to notice them.

And sometimes they still feel exactly like a barbershop should.

Client reclined with a hot towel over his face at Patsy’s Barbershop in Albany New York — A hot towel rests over a client’s face during a shave at Patsy’s Barbershop in Albany, New York.

Part of the Barbershops of America Project

Patsy's Barbershop is one of hundreds of barbershops photographed for the Barbershops of America project, a long-term documentary effort exploring traditional barbershops and barber culture across all fifty states.

Over the last fifteen years, the project has documented everything from century-old neighborhood shops and Black barbershops to modern traditional shops helping shape a new generation of American barbering. Many of the businesses photographed have since closed, making these images an increasingly valuable record of a disappearing part of American culture.

Patsy's stands out as one of the finest traditional interiors in the entire project—a reminder that some of the country's most remarkable barbershops are often found in unexpected places.

Explore the Barbershops of America photography book + prints

View the full Barbershops of America gallery

Barber standing with clippers beside a client at Patsy’s Barbershop in Albany New York — Inside Patsy’s Barbershop, the barber and client are reflected among the shop’s wood paneling and geometric mirrors.

Barber giving a shave inside the classic interior of Patsy’s Barbershop in Albany New York — Near the front window of Patsy’s Barbershop, a client sits is serviced as the shop’s vintage mirrors, chairs, and patterned tile fill the frame.

15 Years of American Backcourts - Basketball Hoop Photography

Rob Hammer June 4, 2026

When ESPN Named American Backcourts One of the Best Photo Stories of 2017

Fifteen years ago, I stopped to photograph a basketball hoop.

At the time, I had no idea that a single photograph would eventually turn into a long-term documentary project spanning thousands of miles, hundreds of towns, and countless back roads across America.

I certainly never imagined the work would be featured by ESPN, NBA TV, SLAM Magazine, Sports Illustrated, galleries, museums, and books about basketball culture.

But that is the strange thing about long-term projects. They rarely begin with a grand plan. More often, they start with curiosity.

The project that would eventually become American Backcourts began with a simple observation: basketball is everywhere!

Not just on organized courts or in cities known for basketball, but in places where you least expect them.

Beside barns.

Behind gas stations.

In alleyways.

At the edge of small towns.

In deserts.

Along fishing harbors.

On ranches.

In forgotten corners of America where a basketball hoop feels both completely out of place and perfectly at home.

American Backcourts featured as a best photo story of 2017 in ESPN

Looking Back on Fifteen Years of American Backcourts

Over the years, the project has taken me through nearly every corner of the country.

I've photographed hoops in major cities and tiny farming communities. I've found them attached to garages, mounted on telephone poles, hanging from trees, and built from scrap materials. Some courts were full of life. Others looked like they hadn't seen a basketball in decades.

What fascinated me was never the hoop itself.

It was what the hoop revealed about the people and places around it.

Every basketball hoop tells a story.

Sometimes it speaks about community.

Sometimes it speaks about isolation.

Sometimes it speaks about childhood memories, long summer evenings, or the passage of time.

The longer I worked on the project, the less it felt like a series about basketball and the more it felt like a portrait of America.

Basketball hoop and folding chair on a red desert court — A basketball hoop stands on a red desert court with a folding chair nearby, showing how the game appears in unexpected places across America.

Why Basketball Hoops?

People occasionally ask why I have spent so many years photographing basketball hoops. The answer has changed over time. In the beginning, I was drawn to the visual qualities of the structures themselves and the stories they told. The shapes, colors, weathering, and the way they interacted with the surrounding landscape.As the project grew, I became interested in something deeper.

Basketball hoops are one of the few objects that appear across nearly every social, economic, and geographic boundary in America. You can find them in wealthiest suburbs and most struggling ghettos. Basketball is everywhere and loved by all people.

The game requires very little. A hoop, a ball, and a place to play.

Because of that simplicity, basketball has become woven into the American landscape in a way few other sports have.

Weathered basketball hoop and wooden utility pole beneath dark storm clouds — Beneath a wooden utility pole and dark clouds, a weathered hoop reflects the roadside structures documented throughout American Backcourts.

When ESPN Took Notice

In 2017, ESPN included American Backcourts among its selections for the Best Photo Stories of the Year.

Seeing the project featured alongside work from some of the most respected photographers and storytellers in sports media was both surprising and humbling.

What meant the most was not the recognition itself. It was the realization that a project focused on old basketball hoops in overlooked places had connected with people beyond the photography world. The editors at ESPN understood something I had been discovering for years. These photographs were never really about basketball equipment.

They were about culture.

Memory.

Geography.

Identity.

They were about the relationship between a game and the places where people play it.

At the time, ESPN also featured the project through a short video presentation narrated by Jalen Rose that introduced the work to an even broader audience

Looking back now, that moment feels less like a destination and more like one chapter in a much longer story.

Basketball hoop standing in a desert landscape with cliffs in the background — Set against an open desert landscape, this basketball hoop shows how the game appears far beyond traditional courts.

Basketball hoop reflected in a puddle on an outdoor court — Caught in the reflection of standing water, the hoop becomes part of the quiet backcourt details photographed for American Backcourts.

What the Project Has Become

Since that feature, American Backcourts has continued to grow.

The photographs have been exhibited in galleries and museums, featured by NBA TV and SLAM Magazine, and included in fine art books documenting basketball culture around the world.

The project has expanded beyond America as well, with photographs made in places such as Vietnam and Europe.

Yet the heart of the work remains unchanged.

I am still searching for the same thing I was searching for fifteen years ago.

A basketball hoop that tells a story.

A place that most people would drive past without noticing.

A reminder that basketball exists far beyond arenas, television broadcasts, and professional sports.

Basketball hoop mounted on a snowy barn with mountains in the background — A small basketball hoop sits on the side of a snow-covered barn, showing the quiet rural places photographed for American Backcourts.

The Hoops I Remember Most

When people see a large collection of photographs, they often assume the most memorable images are the famous ones.

The truth is usually the opposite.

The photographs I remember most are often tied to places rather than pictures.

A lonely hoop at sunset on a back road in the Southwest.

A weathered backboard standing against a winter storm.

A handmade rim attached to a building in an alley.

A court where no one was playing, but where you could still feel the presence of the people who once did.

Those moments are why I continue to photograph the project.

Not because I expect to find the perfect hoop.

But because each one offers a small glimpse into a larger story.

Basketball hoop in front of a large American flag wall — Against a large American flag, the hoop becomes part of the broader visual language of basketball in America.

Fifteen Years and Counting

The longer I work on American Backcourts, the more I realize the project is not really about finishing.

There will always be another town, another road, another hoop waiting somewhere ahead.

What began as a simple idea has become one of the longest-running projects of my career, and it continues to evolve with every mile traveled.

Looking back at the ESPN feature now, I am grateful for the recognition. More importantly, I am grateful that the project continues to resonate with basketball fans, collectors, designers, and people who see something of themselves in these photographs.

Fifteen years later, I still stop for basketball hoops.

And I suspect I always will.

American Backcourts Prints and Photography

Many of the photographs from American Backcourts are available as fine art prints for collectors, basketball enthusiasts, designers, and anyone who appreciates the intersection of sport, culture, and the American landscape.

To learn more about available basketball hoop photography prints, exhibitions, or licensing opportunities, please visit the American Backcourts gallery or get in touch through the contact page.

View the American Backcourts gallery

View the basketball hoops print collection

Rusted basketball hoop and backboard seen from below against a cloudy sky — A rusted basketball hoop is photographed from below against a moving sky, emphasizing the weathered structures found throughout American Backcourts.

Black and white California desert highway with mountains, clouds, and roadside sign — A black and white California desert highway runs toward distant mountains, part of the Roadside Meditations series.

California Desert Photography

Rob Hammer June 4, 2026

California Desert Photography Prints and Wall Art

The deserts of California contain some of the most overlooked landscapes in the American West. While many visitors focus on the state's coastline, national parks, and major cities, vast stretches of desert remain largely unchanged, shaped by wind, sun, and time.

For more than a decade, I have traveled throughout California photographing the landscapes, small towns, highways, and roadside scenes that define the region. From the Mojave Desert to the remote roads of Eastern California, these photographs explore places that exist far from the crowds but remain deeply connected to the history and character of the American West.

The photographs featured here are part of an ongoing body of work documenting the American landscape and the quiet places that many people pass without seeing.

California desert highway with rocky hills, distant mountains, and blue water beyond the road — A California desert highway passes rocky hills and open water, creating a wide landscape suited for fine art wall art.

Joshua trees in a California desert landscape with layered hills and large clouds — Joshua trees stand across a California desert landscape beneath layered hills and large clouds.

Photographing the Desert and Eastern California

Much of this work was created while traveling through the Desert and the vast open spaces of Eastern California. Long stretches of highway connect isolated towns, abandoned structures, railroad crossings, and desert landscapes that seem unchanged for decades.

The California desert is often associated with harsh conditions, but it can also be remarkably subtle. Soft morning light, distant mountain ranges, weathered buildings, and open skies create scenes that reward patience and observation.

Rather than searching for dramatic moments, I am often drawn to the quieter details of the landscape—the places that reveal themselves slowly over time.

Full moon above layered mountains in the California desert landscape — The full moon rises above layered California desert mountains, creating a subtle fine art landscape print.

Black and white California desert highway with mountains and large clouds overhead — A black and white desert highway stretches toward distant mountains, photographed for the Roadside Meditations series.

The Beauty of the California Desert Landscape

One of the reasons I continue returning to the California desert is its sense of space.

The landscape strips away distractions. Colors become simpler. Shapes become more important. A single building, road sign, or telephone pole can become the focal point of an entire scene.

This simplicity has influenced generations of photographers working in the American West. The desert encourages a slower way of looking, where texture, light, and atmosphere become more important than spectacle.

Many of these photographs reflect that approach, focusing on ordinary places that reveal an unexpected beauty when viewed with attention.

Flash flood area sign on a desert road with mountains across the California landscape — A flash flood warning sign stands along a California desert road, reflecting the roadside landscapes of the American West.

Moon above a quiet California desert lake with pink evening light and distant hills — The moon hangs above a quiet California desert lake, creating a soft landscape for desert wall art and fine art prints.

Desert Photography for Homes, Offices, and Hospitality Spaces

Collectors, interior designers, and hospitality clients are often drawn to desert photography because of its calming and timeless qualities.

The muted colors, open compositions, and expansive landscapes work particularly well in modern interiors, mountain homes, offices, hotels, and commercial spaces. Whether displayed as a single statement piece or as part of a larger collection, desert photography can create a strong sense of place without overwhelming a room.

These photographs are available as museum-quality fine art prints and can be produced in a variety of sizes to suit residential and commercial installations.

Wind turbines lining a desert road at sunset in the California landscape — Wind turbines rise along a California desert road at sunset, creating a quiet landscape for fine art wall art.

Black and white photograph of large layered clouds over the California desert — Large layered clouds fill the sky above the California desert in a black and white fine art study.

A weathered old vintage lo-gas eat sign in the California desert — A weathered roadside sign stands against open desert sky, part of the quiet California scenes found along the road.

Eastern California desert landscape with brush, distant mountains, and a roadside view — Desert brush and distant mountains stretch across a quiet Eastern California roadside landscape.

Black and white California desert landscape with mountains, clouds, and a blurred Joshua tree — A black and white California desert landscape shows mountains and clouds beyond a blurred Joshua tree.

California Desert Fine Art Prints

The photographs featured in this collection are available as archival fine art prints produced using museum-quality materials designed for long-term display.

If you are interested in acquiring a California desert photography print for your home, office, gallery, or design project, please contact me for current availability, sizing options, and framing recommendations.

PRINT INQUIRY

Tumbleweeds gathered across a quiet California desert landscape under pink evening sky — Tumbleweeds gather across an open California desert landscape, creating a quiet scene for fine art wall art.

Wind turbines across the California desert with Joshua trees under purple evening sky — Wind turbines stand among Joshua trees in the California desert, photographed in soft evening light.

Yellow desert wildflowers with open California landscape and distant mountains — Yellow wildflowers stand before an open California desert landscape, adding color to a wide fine art print.

California Desert Photography and the Roadside Meditations Project

These photographs are part of Roadside Meditations, an ongoing body of work created over more than fifteen years of traveling the back roads of America. During that time, I have driven hundreds of thousands of miles photographing places that exist somewhere between destination and obscurity—small towns, empty highways, forgotten architecture, and quiet landscapes that most people pass without a second glance.

The California desert has become one of the most important regions within the project. From the open expanses of the Mojave Desert to the dramatic terrain surrounding Highway 395 and the Eastern Sierra, these landscapes embody many of the themes that first drew me to the road. They are places defined by space, solitude, and a sense of timelessness that is increasingly difficult to find.

Rather than documenting famous landmarks, my photographs focus on the details that often go unnoticed: an isolated building beneath a vast sky, a stretch of highway disappearing into the distance, or the subtle light that transforms an ordinary landscape into something memorable. These moments reveal a quieter side of the American West—one that rewards patience and attention.

Many of the photographs featured here are available as museum-quality fine art prints. Together, they form part of a larger visual archive of America’s deserts, small towns, and overlooked landscapes created through years of travel and observation.

If you would like to see more work from the project, you can also view the Roadside Meditations photography book, along with additional photographs from the American West.

View the landscape print collection

California desert landscape with scrub brush, distant mountains, and heavy clouds — Scrub brush stretches across the California desert below distant mountains and heavy clouds.

Railroad tracks and wind turbines across the California desert at sunset — Railroad tracks cut across the foreground as wind turbines fill the California desert at sunset.

California desert salt flat with scrub brush, distant mountains, and clouds — A salt flat stretches across the California desert below distant mountains and shifting clouds.

When Documentary Photography Meets Commercial Work: Andis Clippers and Barbershops of America

Rob Hammer June 2, 2026

How Andis Clippers Licensed Images from the Barbershops of America Project

Most commercial photography assignments begin with a creative brief. This one started with a personal project.

For more than 15 years, I have been photographing barbershops across the United States as part of Barbershops of America—an ongoing documentary project focused on preserving a disappearing piece of American culture. What began as an excuse to meet interesting people and spend time in traditional barbershops eventually became a photography book, museum exhibitions, and a visual archive spanning all 50 states.

Along the way, the project also attracted the attention of companies within the barber industry, including Andis Clippers.

Why Brands Connect With Documentary Photography

The barber industry is built on authenticity.

For companies like Andis, the history of barbering matters. The people who use their products every day care deeply about the culture, traditions, and communities that surround the trade.

That is one reason documentary photography can be so valuable. Rather than creating an idealized version of barbering, documentary work shows the real environments where the craft takes place—the shops, the barbers, the customers, and the personalities that give the industry its identity.

Over the years, Barbershops of America has documented hundreds of shops ranging from century-old neighborhood institutions to the newer generation of traditional barbershops helping shape the future of the trade.

Andis ProFoil advertisement with a black and white Barbershops of America barber portrait — An Andis ProFoil advertisement pairs a Barbershops of America barber portrait with the brand’s campaign around real tools and barber culture.

From Personal Project to Industry Recognition

One of the most rewarding aspects of long-term projects is watching them take on a life of their own.

The photographs from Barbershops of America have been featured in books, exhibitions, magazines, and industry publications. As the project grew, brands within the barbering world began reaching out because the work reflected the same values that attracted them to the industry in the first place.

Andis Clippers licensed several photographs from the project for use in advertising and marketing materials, helping connect their products to the culture and heritage of barbering that inspired generations of professionals.

For me, the collaboration was meaningful because it demonstrated something I have long believed: personal projects often create opportunities that could never be planned in advance, and I’m proud to see my images become of barbershop advertising history.

The Value of Long-Term Photography Projects

When I first started photographing barbershops, there was no business plan attached to it.

The goal was simply to document an important piece of American culture before it disappeared.

Years later, the project has led to a published book, relationships throughout the barber industry, licensing opportunities, museum exhibitions, and countless friendships with barbers across the country.

That is one of the hidden benefits of long-term documentary work. The photographs become more than individual images. They become a body of work that companies, publications, museums, and audiences can connect with on a deeper level.

Andis Clippers advertisement using a black and white Barbershops of America photograph inside a traditional barber shop — Andis Clippers used this Barbershops of America photograph in a campaign focused on real barber shops, real tools, and the culture of the trade.

Barbershops of America Continues

Today, Barbershops of America remains an ongoing project.

Many of the shops photographed in the early years have since closed their doors, making the images an increasingly important historical record. At the same time, a new generation of barbers is redefining what a traditional barbershop can be while still preserving the sense of community that has always made these spaces special.

Whether the photographs are exhibited in a gallery, published in a book, or licensed by brands like Andis Clippers, the mission remains the same: documenting the people and places that keep barber culture alive.

Continue Exploring Barbershop Culture

Interested in seeing more from the project?

→ View the Barbershops of America gallery

→ Shop the Barbershops of America book and prints

→ Contact me regarding editorial or commercial licensing - rob@robhammerphotography.com

Andis Clippers advertisement showing a man seated in a traditional barber shop from Barbershops of America — Andis licensed this Barbershops of America image for an advertisement connecting its clippers with the real shops and people behind barber culture.

Basketball hoop mounted on a wooden ranch wall between two skulls — Between two skulls, a hoop is fixed to a wooden ranch wall.

Basketball Hoops in Unexpected Places

Rob Hammer June 2, 2026

Basketball Hoops in Unexpected Places

For more than 15 years, I’ve been photographing basketball hoops across America. Not the polished courts, bright arenas, or places built for attention, but the hoops found along back roads, behind barns, beside empty lots, in alleyways, on farms, near fishing towns, and in other places where the game becomes part of the landscape.

Some are still used. Some haven’t seen a ball in years. Some look like they were built out of whatever was close at hand. Others are barely standing. But all of them say something about the reach of basketball in America.

A hoop does not need much. A backboard, a rim, a patch of dirt or cracked pavement, and enough imagination to turn any space into a court. That simplicity is part of what makes the game so universal. It can exist almost anywhere.

Basketball hoop mounted on a weathered barn with a damaged roof — Mounted to the side of a weathered barn, a small hoop sits beneath the damaged roofline.

Basketball Beyond the Gym

Most people think of basketball as something played indoors, under lights, on a regulation court. But some of the most interesting basketball hoops I’ve found are nowhere near a gym.

They are attached to barns, garages, telephone poles, abandoned buildings, trees, sheds, and walls. They sit at the edge of fields, in small towns, beside desert roads, and in neighborhoods where the court was never officially a court at all.

That is what first drew me to this subject. These hoops are not just sports equipment. They are markers of place. They show how people adapt the game to whatever space they have.

Weathered basketball hoop beside a swing set under a cloudy sky — Beside a swing set, a weathered backboard stands under a cloudy sky.

The Beauty of Improvised Basketball Hoops

An improvised basketball hoop has a different kind of beauty. It might not be level. The backboard might be handmade. The rim might be rusted. The court might be gravel, dirt, weeds, snow, or broken asphalt.

But that is exactly what makes it interesting.

These hoops carry the evidence of use, weather, time, and local character. They are not designed to be perfect. They are designed to work. And sometimes they barely do.

In a strange way, that makes them more meaningful. They show how little is required for a game to take root.

Basketball hoop beside a worn concrete court in a desert yard — In a desert yard, a basketball hoop stands at the edge of a worn concrete court.

Basketball Hoops in Small Town America

Small towns have always been central to this project and my photography in general. In many places, a basketball hoop is one of the few public signs of play. You might see one beside a church, outside a school, behind a mechanic shop, or at the end of a quiet street.

These are not famous courts. Most people will never know they exist. But they often say more about basketball culture than the places that receive all the attention.

A hoop in a small town can feel like an invitation. It suggests that someone once spent long evenings there, shooting alone, playing with friends, or passing time in a place where there may not have been much else to do.

Basketball hoop mounted inside a barn beside stacked hay bales — Inside the barn, stacked hay bales sit beside a mounted hoop.

Basketball hoop mounted on a weathered barn surrounded by snow and mountains — Snow surrounds a weathered barn with a small hoop mounted beneath the roofline.

Hoops in Rural Landscapes

Some of the most unexpected basketball hoops I’ve photographed are in rural places where basketball almost feels out of context at first.

A hoop on a ranch.
A hoop beside a barn.
A hoop surrounded by fields.
A hoop at the edge of a long dirt road.

But after a while, those scenes start to make perfect sense. Basketball belongs there too. It belongs anywhere people need a game, a break, a challenge, or a way to spend time together.

The contrast is what makes these photographs work. The familiar shape of the rim appears against a landscape that has nothing to do with arenas or organized sports. It becomes part of the architecture of everyday life.

Basketball hoop near a bridge on an outdoor basketball court — Near a bridge, a basketball hoop stands at the edge of an outdoor court.

Industrial smokestacks rise behind a basketball hoop on an outdoor court.

Forgotten Courts and Weathered Backboards

Not every hoop in this series feels active. Some look forgotten. Others seem like they were abandoned decades ago. The lines on the ground are gone. The net is missing. The backboard is cracked, faded, or warped by weather.

Those photographs are not only about basketball. They are about time.

They show what remains after people move on, after children grow up, after a family leaves, or after a town changes. The hoop stays behind as a small piece of evidence that life happened there.

That is one reason I keep photographing them. A basketball hoop can hold a surprising amount of memory.

Basketball hoop mounted on a red barn with balls in the grass nearby — On the side of a red barn, a hoop sits above the grass with balls nearby.

Basketball hoop mounted on a white barn wall beneath overhead wires — Overhead wires cross above a hoop mounted low on a white barn wall.

Why These Hoops Matter

The longer I photograph this subject, the more I see these hoops as a kind of American landscape photography.

They are about basketball, but they are also about place, memory, architecture, weather, and culture. They show how a simple game becomes part of daily life in towns, neighborhoods, farms, and cities across the country.

A hoop in an unexpected place can say a lot with very little. It can suggest childhood, community, solitude, boredom, creativity, persistence, and the passing of time.

That is what keeps me looking.

Basketball hoop mounted on a blue brick wall covered with vines — Vines cover the blue brick wall around a weathered backboard and rim.

The American Backcourts Project

These photographs are part of my long-term series, American Backcourts, a project documenting basketball hoops and courts across America. Over the years, the work has been exhibited in galleries and museums, featured by NBA TV and SLAM, and included in fine art books about basketball culture.

The project is not about professional basketball. It is about the game as it exists in everyday places.

Explore more from the American Backcourts project:

Basketball Culture Gallery

Basketball in Vietnam

European Basketball Hoops

Venice Beach - Alley Hoops

Basketball hoop under an overpass with houses and industrial buildings nearby — Under an overpass, a basketball hoop stands near houses, fencing, and industrial buildings.

Basketball hoop standing in front of a large evergreen tree — Behind the hoop, a large evergreen tree fills the frame.

Basketball Hoop Prints and Fine Art Photography

Many photographs from the American Backcourts series are available as fine art prints for collectors, designers, basketball fans, and people who connect with the culture of the game.

These prints work well in homes, offices, gyms, creative spaces, hospitality projects, and interiors where the goal is to bring in a sense of Americana, nostalgia, sport, and place without using predictable sports imagery.

To inquire about available basketball hoop photography prints, custom sizes, or licensing, please get in touch through the contact page.

View the basketball hoop print collection

Snow-covered outdoor basketball court with a weathered hoop and town in the background — Snow covers the court beneath a worn outdoor hoop.

Black and white photography print of the Capitol building in Richmond, Virginia — Photography print of the capitol building in Richmond, Virginia

Richmond, Virginia Architecture Photography

Rob Hammer June 2, 2026

Historic Architecture Photography in Richmond, Virginia

Richmond is one of the most visually compelling cities in the American South. Layers of history are visible throughout the city, from grand Beaux-Arts train stations and historic hotels to government buildings, churches, warehouses, and bridges that connect the city's past with its present.

As a photographer who has spent more than a decade documenting America through long-term projects focused on landscape, architecture, culture, and small towns, I have always been drawn to places that reveal something deeper about the country's identity. Richmond is one of those places.

Walking through the city with a camera, it becomes clear that Richmond is not defined by a single landmark. Instead, its character emerges through the collection of buildings, streets, and public spaces that have witnessed generations of change while remaining connected to their history.

The photographs featured here were made as part of an ongoing project documenting the architecture, culture, and overlooked beauty of American cities and towns.

Why Richmond Is One of Virginia's Most Photogenic Cities

Many American cities have lost significant portions of their historic architecture to redevelopment. Richmond feels different.

Historic buildings remain woven into the fabric of everyday life. Government buildings stand alongside modern development. Train stations still serve as gateways to the city. Historic hotels continue to welcome visitors. Bridges provide views across the James River that reveal both the city's industrial history and its evolving skyline.

For photographers, Richmond offers a remarkable variety of subjects within a relatively compact and walkable area. Architectural styles from different periods sit side by side, creating opportunities to photograph the city from multiple perspectives.

Whether viewed from the streets below or from elevated vantage points overlooking the river, Richmond presents a visual record of American history that continues to evolve while maintaining a strong sense of place.

Photographing Richmond's Historic Landmarks

One of the highlights of photographing Richmond is the opportunity to document some of Virginia's most recognizable landmarks.

Black and white photograph of the train station in Richmond, Virginia — Richmond, VA historic landmark photography

Main Street Station

Main Street Station stands as one of Richmond's most iconic architectural landmarks. Originally opened in 1901, the station's distinctive clock tower and elegant design have made it a symbol of the city for generations.

The building serves as both a transportation hub and a reminder of an era when rail travel played a central role in connecting communities across America.

Black and white fine art photograph of the Capitol building in Richmond, Virginia — Fine art photograph of the Virginia state capitol building

The Virginia State Capitol

Designed by Thomas Jefferson, the Virginia State Capitol remains one of the most historically significant buildings in the United States.

Its neoclassical architecture has influenced government buildings throughout the country, while its prominent position within Richmond reflects the city's long-standing importance in American history.

The Jefferson Hotel

The Jefferson Hotel is one of the South's great architectural landmarks. Known for its grand interiors and historic elegance, the building has become a defining feature of Richmond's visual identity.

Photographing the hotel provides an opportunity to explore the craftsmanship and architectural ambition that helped shape many of America's great cities during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Black and white photograph print of the Manchester Bridge in Richmond, Virginia — Black and white photograph of the Manchester Bridge in Richmond, VA

The Manchester Bridge and the James River

The Manchester Bridge provides one of the most memorable views of Richmond.

From the bridge, the city rises above the James River with a mix of historic architecture, modern buildings, industrial structures, and open sky. It is the kind of view that helps explain Richmond visually — a city shaped by the river, by history, and by generations of change.

Photographing Richmond from the Manchester Bridge creates a different kind of image than a street-level architectural photograph. Instead of focusing on one landmark, the view brings several parts of the city together at once: the river, the skyline, the bridges, and the layered architecture that gives Richmond its character.

Black and white photograph of Main Street Station in Richmond, Virginia

Richmond as Part of a Larger Photography Project About America

These photographs are part of a larger body of work that explores American places both large and small.

Over the last fifteen years, I have driven hundreds of thousands of miles photographing cities, towns, roadside landscapes, and communities throughout the United States. While major destinations often receive the most attention, I am frequently drawn to places that exist somewhere between tourist attraction and everyday reality.

Richmond fits naturally within that approach.

Like Albany, New York and Jackson, Mississippi and countless other communities I've photographed over the years, Richmond tells a story about America through its architecture, public spaces, and sense of history.

Each city reveals something different, but all share a connection to the people and places that have shaped the country over time.

Black and white photograph of the First National Bank building in Richmond, VA — First National Bank Building in Richmond, Virginia

Richmond, Virginia Fine Art Photography Prints

These photographs from Richmond are available as museum-quality fine art prints.

Printed using archival materials and produced to the highest standards, these photographs are intended for collectors, interior designers, hospitality projects, corporate installations, and anyone with a connection to Richmond and its architectural history.

Available sizes range from smaller collector prints to large statement pieces suitable for homes, offices, hotels, and public spaces.

For print availability, custom sizing, licensing inquiries, or commissions, please contact me directly - rob@robhammerphotography.com

Contact Rob

Black and white architecture photography of Richmond, VA — Richmond, Virginia fine art photography prints

Black and white photography of iconic Richmond, Virginia landmark — Iconic landmarks in Richmond, Virginia - Wall Art

A cast stretches across clear water along the South Platte River in Deckers Canyon.

Deckers Canyon Fly Fishing Photography

Rob Hammer May 29, 2026

Deckers, Colorado Fly Fishing Photography on the South Platte River

For many Colorado anglers, Deckers is more than a place to fish.

It's where they learned to read a river. It's where friendships were built during early mornings on the South Platte. It's the stretch of water they return to after work, on weekends, and throughout every season of the year.

Located southwest of Denver, Deckers has earned a reputation as one of the most recognizable and iconic fly fishing destinations in Colorado. Anglers travel from across the country to fish these waters, drawn by healthy trout populations, beautiful scenery, and the chance to experience one of the state's most famous rivers with easy access.

These photographs were made over multiple visits to Deckers and are part of an ongoing project documenting fly fishing throughout Colorado and the American West.

Angler crossing rocky water while fly fishing on the South Platte River near Deckers — An angler moves across the rocks and current while fly fishing on the South Platte River near Deckers.

Why Deckers Is One of Colorado's Most Popular Fly Fishing Destinations

Few rivers are as closely associated with Colorado fly fishing as the South Platte River near Deckers.

Its accessibility makes it a favorite among Front Range anglers, while the quality of the fishery attracts visitors from much farther away. On any given day, the river might hold local anglers who have fished here for decades alongside travelers experiencing Deckers for the first time.

The result is a place that feels both familiar and iconic.

For photographers, that popularity creates opportunities to document not only the landscape, but also the people who continue to make the river part of their lives.

Angler fly fishing below rock walls along the South Platte River in Deckers Canyon — An angler works a rock-lined stretch of the South Platte River below the walls of Deckers Canyon.

Photographing the South Platte River Near Deckers

Deckers is a place that feels good not just because it’s beautiful, it’s also familiar, like an old friend. Unlike a lot of the Colorado backcountry, Deckers offers top tier fishing and views with minimal effort, which is nice every once and a while. You can pop in for a few hours on the way or way back from somewhere else. Sorta like stopping in your favorite bar for a quick beer. And despite it’s ease of use, the nature of Deckers still allows for a complete mental checkout. There’s nothing I love more than hiking far into the wilderness with a camera and fly rod. Sometimes though, a place like Deckers is more than enough to scratch the itch.

Angler standing on a large rock above the South Platte River near Deckers, Colorado — From a large rock above the river, an angler looks over a rocky stretch of the South Platte near Deckers.

Angler handling fly fishing line beside the South Platte River near Deckers, Colorado — Fly line runs through the angler’s hands beside the South Platte River near Deckers, Colorado.

A River That Changes with the Seasons

One reason anglers return to Deckers year after year is that the river never looks quite the same twice.

Spring brings changing flows and fresh green vegetation along the banks.

Summer offers long days and evening light stretching across the valley.

Autumn transforms the cottonwoods into brilliant shades of gold.

Winter often leaves the river framed by snow while dedicated anglers continue to fish through the cold months.

Those seasonal changes make Deckers one of the most rewarding places in Colorado to photograph throughout the year.

Angler casting beside canyon rock walls while fly fishing in Deckers Canyon — A cast reaches along the edge of the river below the rock walls of Deckers Canyon.

More Than a Fishing Destination

Places like Deckers become important because of the memories people build there.

Everybody loves a far off destination, but there’s something equally as special about knowing you can easily call a place like Deckers your home water without spending a fortune on airfare. Or if you are coming in from out of town, it feels good to know there is top tier fishing only an hour and a half from Denver.

Many of the anglers who fish Deckers can point to specific bends in the river and recall stories from decades earlier. The South Platte becomes part of their personal history.

Angler fly fishing between large rocks on the South Platte River in Deckers Canyon — Large rocks and canyon walls surround an angler fishing the South Platte River near Deckers.

Textured water with reflected light on the South Platte River near Deckers, Colorado — Warm reflected light shows across the textured surface of the South Platte River.

Part of a Larger Colorado Fly Fishing Photography Project

These photographs are part of an ongoing effort to document fly fishing throughout Colorado and across the American West.

Other locations in this project include:

Together, these collections explore not only the landscapes of the American West, but also the people, traditions, and culture that make fly fishing such a meaningful pursuit.

Colorado Fly Fishing Photography Prints and Licensing

Many of my fly fishing photographs are available as museum-quality fine art prints for homes, lodges, fly shops, and collectors.

View the fly fishing print collection

Images from this project are also available for editorial, commercial, and advertising licensing for outdoor brands, tourism organizations, magazines, and agencies seeking authentic fly fishing imagery.

To inquire about prints or licensing, please contact me directly - rob@robhammerphotography.com

Angler fly fishing through a narrow rocky stretch of the South Platte River near Deckers — The South Platte River narrows between rocks as an angler fishes through Deckers Canyon.

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