About

Artist Statement
Gear
Prints

My name is Markos Berndt, and I take pictures of landscapes, waterscapes, and florals. It was never my intention to do this for as long as I have. It just happened, the way most interesting things do; slowly and with lots of mistakes.

I’ve spent the last 20 some years walking trails, crawling through brush, and swearing at my tripod—capturing light at its best. I’m based in Wisconsin, where the four seasons used to change at the same time, but lately we’re a good month or two away from what seasons used to be. What started as a hobby that balanced between boredom and curiosity has grown into something deeper. A way of paying attention, maybe. Or making chaos into simplicity.

I’m drawn to fog, ice, white water, long shadows, and the sort of quiet that feels earned. My photos lean toward the surreal—but not too far. I want them to feel like memories you forgot about. When I’m not behind the camera, I try to write about those images that mean the most to me, or simply about the places I have been. Sometimes I just tell the stories behind the shots. Sometimes I ramble . But it’s all as honest as I can make it.

A few of my images have made their way into shows, contests, and publications, though I still consider it a win when someone pauses and asks about anything I have photographed or written.

If you’re here to look around, I welcome you. If something catches your eye or makes you feel something—even a small something—then this whole thing’s worth it. Reach out if you'd like. I'm always up for a good story or a new trail or just for the camaraderie.

Artist Statement

Some people photograph for others. Some to prove they were there. My work isn’t either of those.

The photographs I put on this site are the result of one person following light, weather, and mood to places frequented by fewer people. That kind of solitude at times is more difficult to find. Trails are busier than ever, once-quiet places feel exposed. I go to be alone—not to escape the world, but to remember what it feels like without noise. To listen. To look until something starts to form. Sometimes it’s a tree, or a rock with an interesting shape. Something that changes shape when fog rolls in.

I enjoy photographing natural spaces—sometimes going wide, sometimes close, almost invading something that is shaped by weather, light, and time. I never go out with a subject in mind. I go where the mood leads, where something feels like it might matter, even if I can’t say why.

There’s no central theme beyond presence. No strict style, no loyalty to one subject over another. Some images come together in the moment. Often enough, an image resurfaces years later—frames once overlooked, now seen with a different eye, or software allows me to edit and see it in a different light.

Photography is how I process and take in the world without needing to explain it. I don’t make images for a specific audience, but I share them in case they connect with someone else the way they connected with me.

What’s here isn’t meant to impress or persuade. It’s meant to reflect a way of being in the world: curious, quiet, connected. Whether anyone notices or not.

Gear

I’ve stayed with Canon because it feels right in the hands—steady, reliable, and built for long days outside. My setup isn’t complicated, just familiar enough that I can forget about it and focus on what’s in front of me.

• Canon R5 Mark II
• Canon EF 16–35mm f/4L
• Canon EF 70–200mm f/4L IS II USM
• Canon EF 100mm f/2.8 USM Macro

There’s always a few things rattling around in the bag: extra batteries that never seem fully charged, a lens cloth that’s seen better days, a small blower, and a stack of ND filters wrapped in paper towels from some trip I forgot about. I keep a microfiber towel for dew, a flashlight for trails that run longer than planned, and a notebook for whatever I think I’ll remember later—but usually don’t.

That’s about it. Nothing fancy. Just what works when the light’s good and time feels short.