Ian McGee

A boy and his knife.

Dan & Josie drove this truck 2500 miles from Oregon to Springfield, Ohio to sling steel from their tailgate like old time preachers with a gospel to sell. Except the good word was . There’s something special about folks who don’t just collect vintage rigs, but live in them.

Oden the Great doing great things in great places with great vibes.

Somewhere between a thunderstorm and a s’more the size of a catcher’s mitt, we became explorers. We bivouacked under leaky tents (morale stayed high, socks were damp). We wielded pool noodle sabers against Sith Lords of questionable rank. We scaled ancient rock formations en route to a place ominously called Devil’s Kitchen. It was glorious. In the forest, we studied limestone and dolomite like junior geologists with clipboards (imaginary, but real in spirit). We memorized canopy and understory trees...white oak, sycamore, maybe a black walnut if you squint just right. We ate Yoda ears. We consumed Ewok grahams. We constructed Tie Fighter s’mores. Han-Sandwiches were... controversial. Slingshot droid hunting was highly effective. Jedi vs Sith capture-the-flag was a chaotic masterpiece. We studied rainbow trout and the mysteries of Roaring River Spring, the 20th deepest spring in the country, and, crucially, the deepest unexplored one. Somewhere down there, a secret surely sleeps. By the end, our friendships were stronger, our knowledge deeper, our secret handshake game was stronger, and our socks only slightly less wet.
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Ten years back, I found myself at Champion Studio staring through a still camera lens at while he pieced together a bike that looked like it had escaped from a Rube Goldberg dream sequence by way of California Minimalism. was there too, quietly dialing in a frame on the same camera that he had captured some of the most elevated skate films and music videos I had ever seen, probably unaware that just by doing what he does, he was rewiring something in my brain. I was just a kid with a camera, trying not to get in the way. That day, something shifted. I felt it. , another extremely heavy hitter on the project that I felt fortunate to work with put it, “you flipped the switch on your photography”. Now, a decade later, I can still feel the charge. Still grateful I got to orbit that kind of creative gravity.
Prod. Co. -

New Scout Story with a photo series I shot for and just went live. Thanks for having me !

Shut your eyes just as tight as you can.

Me and this weapon of a film maker go waaaaaay back. co

Captured a quiet moment with my friend during his morning Fajr prayer and while prepping his head piece for the day in Rijal Alma, Saudi Arabia. Hussain is a prolific photographer who is steadfast in documenting the wildlife in his region. Was awesome getting to know these folks.

Ryan Liggett is a third generation Rancher in the Irish Wilderness outside Ozark Missouri. He named his son after the most important part of a horse saddle, the Cinch, to represent how important his son is to him. Ryan understands that times are changing, but wants to give his son the mindset to accomplish his dreams in a world that’s quickly moving away from small town lifestyles. This film has only been released in theaters, but Cinch graduated high school this year. So it felt like a good time to release it digitally. The film is shot over the course of one year and was shot 8 years ago in 2016. We track our hero, Cinch, as he learns to mount a horse on his own. Mounting a horse ‘solo’ is a right of passage for a ranching family. For Cinch, it’s a lesson from his father that can be applied to many aspects of his life. This is a coming of age story in a small sliver of life that is often forgotten about in the rural midwest.

WATCH THE FILM BELOW ON VIMEO.

THE CINCH Ryan Leggit is a third generation Rancher in the Irish Wilderness outside Ozark Missouri. He named his son after the most important part of a horse saddle, the Cinch,…

Well that’s a pretty machine.