Oscar Mares Jr
West Michigan | Woodland & Landscape Photographer
I picked up a camera in 2019 for a simple reason: I needed an escape. Mental health had become heavy, and daily life felt loud. I bought a Fujifilm X-T3 to help make videos for my local church. One afternoon I took it on a short hike. That small decision quietly changed everything.
I fell hard and fast. I spent money I didn’t need to spend and booked trips to beautiful places before I really understood my camera—Valley of Fire, Olympic National Park, Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The landscapes were generous. My settings often were not. A lot of frames that should have been keepers were lost to inexperience.
Over time I slowed down and learned the basics—how the camera actually works, what settings serve the scenes I love, and how to see instead of just shoot. What emerged was a deep pull toward trees and woodland. I am drawn to quiet structure, filtered light, bark, fog, and the intimate details that larger grand landscapes sometimes skip. Photographers like Simon Baxter, Adam Gibbs, Mali Davies, and Gavin Hardcastle have shaped how I look at a forest.
My work is often telephoto-heavy. Living in Michigan makes that interesting. Much of the forest here is young, overgrown, and chaotic. Grand, clean vistas are not always waiting around the next bend, so I hunt for the smaller moments—the isolated trunk, the layered branches, the shoreline of the Great Lakes when the inland woods feel too restless. I travel when I can, but a great deal of what I love is still found close to home.
For years I photographed mostly for myself. The process calms me in a way little else does. It brings a kind of peace that feels like healing. Some of my favorite frames have never been shared and may never be. Lately I have been in a better place with the work and with myself, and I decided it was time to open the door a little.
My hope is simple: to share nature’s beauty through the eyes of someone who has walked through a lot. If even one image lets you see what I see—and warms your heart just a little—then the journey was worth sharing.
Thank you for walking it with me.