The Best Locations for Landscape Photography

“Location, location, location,” right? When it comes to landscape photography, the location entirely defines the subject matter within the artwork. Just as an acrylic painter chooses a style or feeling for their work, a photographer must select a location that best conveys the mood and story they want to portray.

I could list my most successful and favourite locations; however, that would be a narrow view compared to the vast opportunities that exist around the world. I’ve traveled to many places over the years and still have a long list of destinations left to explore with my camera. While there’s a reason certain locations are heavily photographed, I believe that as an artist, it’s important to put your own spin on familiar places—or seek out new ones altogether.

This was especially true for my image Morning Spirit. The goal was to capture a scene with the signature East Coast, small fishing village character. The obvious choice would have been to photograph Peggy’s Cove; instead, I set out on the road for a week in search of a quieter, less-photographed location that still carried that unmistakable coastal feel.

When it comes to landscape photography, the following five categories consistently offer the strongest foundation for creating compelling images.

It’s hard to turn away from a great photograph of New York’s skyline. It’s just as hard to find someone who isn’t drawn to a compelling cityscape—one that captures the electricity, character, and constant movement of a metropolitan place. I’ve found that collectors are often most connected to images of cities they know personally, places that already hold meaning for them.

Urban photography has a unique ability to distill the essence of a city into a single frame. These images invite viewers to step directly into what they love about a place, whether it’s the architecture, the energy, or the sense of scale. Because of the incredible level of detail, the viewer’s eye rarely settles. Instead, it continues to wander, discovering something new with each glance.

This effect is especially noticeable in Victorian Nights and City of Colour. We regularly see people stand in front of these pieces for long stretches of time, slowly taking in the details and intricacies throughout the scene. It often feels as though each return to the image reveals something previously unnoticed, reinforcing the idea that strong cityscape photography rewards patience and curiosity.

There’s no denying that humans are deeply connected to water. Oceans naturally evoke a sense of calm and tranquility, while holding different meanings for different people. For photographers, seascapes offer endless opportunities—where light, motion, and shoreline converge to create powerful visual contrasts along the water’s edge.

One of the most compelling aspects of seascape photography is the ability to control how motion is portrayed. A fast shutter speed can freeze a wave as it crashes into the shore, while a slower exposure transforms that same movement into something far more ethereal. In Pacific Dreaming, for example, a ten-minute exposure slows the ocean into a soft, fog-like presence as it flows around the rocks.

This subject matter continually challenges me to push my artistic skills and translate the image I see in my mind into reality. It’s through this process that images like Rip Curl and Blue Crush came to be. I wasn’t interested in photographing just any wave—I wanted to create an image that felt more like a painting than a photograph.

That pursuit ultimately led me to Hawaii, where some of the most vibrant and dynamic waves in the world can be found. It was there that everything aligned, allowing those ideas to take shape through light, motion, and time.

I’ve found some of my most compelling imagery across the prairies and the seemingly endless landscapes of Canada. Images like Little House on the Prairie and Fields of Fire immediately draw the attention of gallery visitors, thanks to the vibrant light, contrast, and colour that define these wide-open scenes.

Many of my favourite prairie photographs come from Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba—regions known for their vast horizons and ever-changing skies. No two evenings are ever the same, and it’s that unpredictability that makes the prairies so captivating to photograph.

While creating Pink Rain, I returned to the same location for five consecutive nights. Each evening, the sky looked entirely different from the one before. In fact, the night prior to capturing the final image, I stood beneath an active tornado storm cell and was completely soaked, camera in hand. It wasn’t until the following evening—when the clouds began to break at the exact moment the sun was setting—that everything aligned. As a rain cloud drifted overhead, the scene transformed, allowing the image to finally come together.

For photographers who thrive in landscape imagery, waterfalls are some of the most rewarding locations to study. When framed correctly, they offer a unique opportunity to capture both movement and power within a single scene. What often surprises people is just how many distinct angles and compositions a single waterfall can offer, each with its own character and identity.

Much like seascapes, shutter speed plays a critical role in shaping the mood of a waterfall photograph. A faster shutter speed freezes the water in mid-motion, while a longer exposure allows the movement to unfold over time. I’ve always gravitated toward longer shutter speeds in these environments, as they tend to create images that introduce a sense of calm and tranquility into the spaces where they’re displayed.

Over the years, dozens of gallery visitors have stood in front of my waterfall images—Sacred Falls, The Hidden Gem, and Stepping Stones—and remarked, “It’s as though the water is moving.” That illusion comes from careful observation, patience, and repeated experimentation with shutter speed, allowing the water’s motion to feel alive even within a still image.

I’ve also received consistent feedback from collectors regarding my vertical, panoramic waterfall images. Many homes and condos have narrow or awkward wall spaces where a traditional square format simply doesn’t work. These vertical waterfall pieces not only command attention, but often complete a space in a way few other formats can.

We’re fortunate to live in a part of the world surrounded by so many remarkable mountain ranges. Photographers travel from all corners of the globe to Western Canada to experience the sheer scale of these natural formations firsthand. With vast terrain stretching in every direction—often after a fair amount of hiking—the creative possibilities are nearly endless when it comes to choosing perspective.

Perspective plays a powerful role in how a mountain scene is experienced. Shooting from below, looking upward, creates an imposing, almost overpowering atmosphere. This technique is commonly used in cinema; when a character is filmed from a low angle, it conveys strength, dominance, and presence. That same visual language applies to landscape photography.

This approach was central to The Guardian. Captured from the base of the mountain, the subject rises dramatically from the surrounding landscape, enhanced by the lush green forests of Hawaii. From this angle, the mountain took on a commanding, almost character-like presence—true to its name, it felt like a watchful guardian standing over the land.

Taking a perspective from above a mountain range offers an entirely different experience. One of the fastest-selling images in the gallery, Once in a Blue Moon, was photographed from a high vantage point, revealing a vast, layered mountainscape with a seemingly endless horizon. From elevated viewpoints, photographers can work with wide angles, build depth through foreground, subject, and background layers, or even capture expansive 360-degree scenes that fully immerse the viewer.

After all of this, the single most influential factor in deciding when to photograph a location is the weather. A familiar place can be completely redefined by changing conditions. While location is essential, elements like rainfall, fresh snowfall, or dense fog often transform an ordinary scene into something extraordinary.

Arctic Frost only became Arctic Frost because of calm winds and fresh snowfall settling across the row of trees in the foreground. The landscape near Moose Lake, BC offered incredible potential for my panoramic style, but had this image been taken during a dry summer month, it likely would not have carried the same impact.

Legends of the Sea and Solitude are two of my most popular images, regularly drawing people into my downtown Victoria, BC gallery. Many visitors have told me that Solitude reminds them of a cold winter day in Winnipeg, often surprised to learn it was photographed on a mountain in West Vancouver. The same reaction happens with Legends of the Sea, when people discover it was captured in downtown Vancouver. In both cases, dense fog completely reshaped the perception of place.

Weather patterns often define a photograph, shaping both the scene and the viewer’s emotional response. I’m particularly drawn to using fog to create intimacy and mood, or to simplify a composition by removing elements that feel distracting. When used thoughtfully, weather doesn’t just support a location—it becomes the subject itself.

We’ve had many collectors take home Sacred Falls because they’ve spent time at the base of that very waterfall. They remember the reinvigorating sensation of cool mist and fresh air tucked deep within the forest at Sombrio Beach, BC. That physical memory instantly reconnects them to the image.

The same response often happens with works photographed in Hawaii. Many people have been fortunate enough to spend time on those islands, and we regularly see gallery guests stop in their tracks when approaching Island Oasis or Island Dreaming. Even more so during periods when travel has been limited, viewers immediately recognize the sky, water, and shoreline—and feel an undeniable pull to return.

A location can communicate with a viewer in many ways. Even without direct familiarity, a photograph can evoke memories of similar places or experiences. The First Flight is a perfect example. While very few people have been to Flin Flon, MB—where the image was captured—many connect it to memories of flying in float planes through the Thousand Islands or across the remote coastlines of Western Canada.

By keeping location, weather, and the viewer’s experience in mind, photography becomes more than a visual record. It becomes a way to capture moments, memories, and emotions that linger long after the first glance. If you’re interested in more tips on composing impactful landscape photographs, you can explore this blog or visit my art gallery in Victoria, BC to experience these works in person.