BACKSTORY: I was assigned as both a photojournalist and, effectively, a field editor while embedded with a reporter aboard a research vessel documenting scientists studying changes in a major ocean current linked to climate change. Anticipating that the limitations presented by the physical constraints of working on a boat could result in repetitive imagery - cramped interiors and exterior scenes dominated by monotonous blue water and sky, I preemptively adapted to the challenges by relying on my technical proficiency as a drone operator and leveraging my scuba diving experience to expand the range and scope of available visual potential before even stepping on board.

Despite the logistical complexities and regulatory constraints of operating a drone in international waters, the aerial imagery became an essential component of the visual narrative, providing geographic and conceptual context that could not have been achieved from deck level alone. While research regulations did not allow me to scuba dive fully with the scientific team, I was able to enter the water alongside them as they retrieved data collection devices from the sea floor. Photographing from the water’s surface introduced an entirely different visual plane—imagery below the waterline that complemented the views from above. One of these photographs ultimately ran on the front page of The Washington Post on February 15, 2026.

The assignment presented physical challenges as well. Both the reporter and I experienced significant seasickness during the two-day trip, which made sustained work difficult. We continued reporting regardless, prioritizing the completeness of the coverage despite physical discomfort.

Because this assignment took place on a research vessel in open water and involved scientific diving operations, it also required extensive logistical and medical preplanning. We were required to submit detailed medical documentation and physician-signed clearance forms to the academic institution overseeing the vessel. My prior experience working in remote and hazardous environments, combined with my HEFAT training, allowed me to navigate these requirements efficiently and safely. This same level of forethought informs how I work as a photo editor—thinking through not only the visual plan, but also the safety plan, before photographers are sent into complex or risky situations.

When I returned to Washington, D.C., I worked closely with a photo editor to shape the final visual narrative. In the edit, my focus was not simply on selecting strong individual photographs, but on how each image functioned narratively. The aerial images established scale and isolation, situating the science within the immensity of the ocean. The photographs made from the waterline conveyed proximity and risk, underscoring the physical labor and uncertainty inherent in climate research. Images made on deck grounded the story in human process—scientists working methodically within tight constraints. Together, these perspectives prevented the story from flattening visually and instead reinforced the reporting by showing how data is gathered, at what cost, and in what environment.

I think the online presentation is strong and made effective use of the photographs I selected, with thoughtful toning, captioning, and layout. I was not involved in the final print layout, but felt it did not fully reflect the visual diversity that was produced.

While this project may not be the most visually dramatic work in my career, I chose it because it demonstrates the analytical thinking, advance planning, and editorial judgment required to elevate reporting under constrained conditions. It reflects how I approach visual journalism: treating images not as illustration, but as reporting itself—an approach that aligns closely with ProPublica’s investigative mission and its commitment to visuals that deepen understanding, reveal process, and hold complex systems to account.