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Dani Watson

@daniwatsonau

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Chasing light & wild skies
🏆 Award-winning Photographer
🎓 Master of Arts Photography
🖼 Limited Edition Prints ⬇️

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I’m honestly still taking this in…
To be named a @hasselblad Masters Finalist for 2026 in the Landscape category feels surreal. Amongst over 100,000 images from around the world, this recognition is something I’m incredibly proud of.

This is an award that, to me, means even more to be named as a finalist. It’s a competition I’ve always held in the highest regard — for years, I’ve looked to its winners and finalists for inspiration, quietly admiring the standard and dreaming of one day being part of it.

More than anything, it means so much to be able to share aerial perspectives of the Australian desert — a landscape that continues to shape the way I see, feel, and create. To have that vision recognised on a global stage is the greatest honour.

If you have a moment and would like to support the journey, I would be so grateful for your vote.

Thank you for being part of this with me 🤍

#hasselblad #hasselbladmasters2026 by @daniwatsonau

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6 months ago

I’d been trying underwater photography. Mostly experimenting, figuring things out and taking plenty of photos that probably weren’t going anywhere.

Then I looked up.

Waves were breaking above me, white water folding through itself, with small pockets of light appearing and disappearing between it all.

So I started photographing it.

I liked that I couldn’t control what was happening. Every wave changed the frame completely.

Later, I kept coming back to this one because it didn’t immediately feel like the ocean. It could be clouds, smoke, a storm — something forming in the darkness.

I eventually removed the colour.

That was when it became Maelstrom.

Just light, movement and a little bit of chaos above me. by @daniwatsonau

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18 days ago

FIELDS REMEMBER
Earlier this year, I was incredibly honoured to have Fields Remember awarded Runner-Up in the Landscape category of The Landscape Awards.

This one means a lot to me.

I live not far from here, and the Victorian Central Highlands and the farming communities around it have always been close to my heart. Canola is something I photograph every year, often on my family’s property. Maybe it’s the farm girl in me, but there’s something about seeing those fields turn yellow that always feels familiar.

This photograph definitely didn’t happen on the first visit.

I came back five or six times. Different weather. Different skies. Different light. Changing perspective. Each time there was something that wasn’t quite working, so I’d leave and come back again.

I even photographed this old house under the light of a supermoon.

But this was the frame that stayed with me.

The colour in the sky, that incredible field of yellow and the old farmhouse sitting quietly amongst it all. It felt like the landscape I know.

Sometimes photography is about being there at exactly the right moment.

Other times, it’s about caring enough about a place to keep going back by @daniwatsonau

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18 days ago

Sometimes it’s sad returning to a location and realising just how much it has changed.

It wasn’t that long ago that I was standing at Princess Pier trying to capture a photograph that had always eluded me. Some locations are like that. They make you work for it. They make you return again and again until the conditions, the light, and the moment finally align.

Last weekend, I found myself back there with friends—not to photograph Princess Pier myself—but I couldn’t help noticing how dramatically the landscape has shifted. Many of the old pylons have now been cut down to only a foot or so above the waterline, changing the scene entirely.

I understand that decisions are made for safety reasons or other considerations, but as one of Victoria’s iconic landscapes, and a place so many photographers visit for its resemblance to the old pier pylons around New York, it’s hard not to feel a little sad seeing such a significant change.

Landscapes evolve. They always have. But sometimes those changes feel bigger when you’ve built memories around a place.

I’m grateful my last visit gave me an image I’m proud of.

Video by @gi4nlucarretta only 3 weeks ago. Photos last weekend. by @daniwatsonau

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4 months ago

There’s always that one person in a group shooting in the opposite direction… and if you know me well, that person is usually me.

I was out with friends along the coast. Everyone had their tripods lined up, photographing some of the coastline’s most beautiful rock formations. Turn around and you’d see exactly why — dramatic shapes, incredible textures, the kind of scene that naturally draws attention.

But while everyone else was facing one way, I found myself halfway out to sea shooting the other.

Water has always had a way of pulling me in. Maybe it’s because it never sits still. Every wave arrives differently, every movement lasts only for a moment before disappearing and becoming something new. There’s something calming about standing amongst it all and letting the rhythm take over. by @daniwatsonau

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5 months ago

I haven’t shared much from the 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 series. If you visited my exhibition in 2023, you may remember this work — but perhaps it’s finally time to start sharing more from the postgraduate body of work developed throughout my Master of Arts (Photography) degree. A collection of over 28 images, many of which I have never shared, exploring landscape, presence, and the spaces in between.

C O N F L U E N C E explores the moments where movement, light, and landscape briefly intersect. Beneath intersecting trails of light, the ancient rock formation remains still against the constant motion of the ocean, creating a quiet contrast between permanence and passing time.

The water softens into something almost weightless as the sky becomes layered with light, shifting the landscape into a more reflective space. Standing within the scene felt both grounding and fleeting at the same time — a reminder of how briefly moments, people, and places cross paths before continuing on their own course.

Part of the 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 series, this work reflects on those fleeting moments where the landscape feels less like a place, and more like something deeply felt. by @daniwatsonau

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5 months ago

I was shooting for a campaign—testing ideas, pushing concepts. Some worked, some didn’t. The brief was to create a landscape image that would grab attention on a magazine page.

I didn’t come here specifically for autumn.
It just happened to be here when I stopped.

The rows pulled me in first—clean, ordered. More pattern than place. I could see the frames before I even lifted the camera.

Then the wind hit.

Leaves crossed through everything—breaking the lines, disrupting the structure. I tried shooting through it instead of fixing it. Let it stay a bit unresolved.

That’s the part that held.
So I leant into it—working with the leaves, a few at a time.

Not the colour. Not the season.
Just the moment it stopped feeling controlled.

I didn’t take that many shots—
just enough to hold onto that.

It was a concept. And while it worked and I like the image, the campaign went with another image I captured. by @daniwatsonau

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5 months ago

I’ve always been drawn to windmills. Maybe it’s the farm girl in me.

They’ve always felt familiar. Like something that belongs, no matter where you find them.

I’d been out there for a while, taking a few photos but not really landing on anything. Just waiting. Watching the light shift across the hill, noticing how it moved through the clouds. But in that moment, that’s where I feel most at peace.

At one point, the rays started breaking through—those soft beams pushing down between the gaps. I found myself watching that more than anything else. The way the light touched the ground, the way the clouds held it.

The windmill was there the whole time, but it wasn’t the focus yet.

Then the light changed again.

The colour deepened, that afterglow settling in. And suddenly I came back to it—the windmill, sitting still against everything else moving around it.

Lately, I’ve been leaning into simpler frames. Not trying to build something complicated. Just letting a few elements sit together.

This felt like that.

Something quiet. Familiar.

A small piece of what feels like classic Australia. by @daniwatsonau

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6 months ago

I’ve been sitting with this one for a while… about a year now.

It keeps pulling me back. That feeling when something is captured and you just know there’s more there… even if you can’t quite explain it.

For me, this is one of those.

I don’t often have favourites, but this keeps finding its way back in. I kept looking at it, thinking… it’s time. The patterns, the texture, the colour—it’s everything I’m drawn to. Simple, but layered. Quiet, but strong.

Not from a drone… but from a plane, doors off, taking it all in. There’s an inner stillness up there, something that settles the noise and lets everything fall into place.

No rush. No forcing it.

Just being there… waiting for the light.

And no matter how many times you go up—
it’s never the same twice. by @daniwatsonau

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6 months ago

I got down to Gibson Steps early. Not for any real reason—just ended up there before the day had properly started.

Walking onto the beach, there was Gog. Sitting out on its own.

I stood there for a while without doing anything. No camera, no rush. Just watching the water come in and out, barely changing. The sky felt soft, almost washed out. Nothing dramatic. Nothing building.

It would’ve been easy to walk past it. To look for something more. The version that includes both Gog and Magog.

But I didn’t.

I’ve been trying to slow things down. Not chase the bigger moments. Just be more observant of what’s already in front of me.

When I finally took the camera out, I didn’t move around much. Didn’t look for a better angle. Just stood where I was and let it be what it was. by @daniwatsonau

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6 months ago

Earlier in the year, I was teaching photography for a university. We’d spent the afternoon working through different approaches, and by sunset we made our way down to the harbour.

Some of the group moved further around, chasing different angles. I stayed back and worked through some long exposure techniques, keeping things simple.

The water softened into a single tone. The movement disappeared. What remained was structure — the bridge, the sails, the skyline — all sitting quietly within the frame.

There’s a tendency to chase complexity in a place like this. More colour, more drama, more movement. But I was interested in the opposite.

Reducing it. Letting the scene breathe.

Sometimes the strongest images come from removing rather than adding — recognising when enough is already there. by @daniwatsonau

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6 months ago

I didn’t arrive with much in mind. Just a sense that the light might settle into something quiet, it has been on the list for a long time as a place to come visit.

By the time I reached the bridge, everything had already softened. The water had stilled, the colours had eased back, and the scene felt almost reduced to its simplest form.

The reflection held cleanly beneath it, uninterrupted. It didn’t need perfect conditions—just enough stillness to let the structure sit within itself.

I remember standing there for a while, not adjusting much. Just watching how little it took for everything to feel balanced, just some patience to wait for a car in the carpark to leave the scene.

There’s a point where the landscape stops asking for more. No stronger light, no added drama.

Just recognition.

And knowing that’s enough. by @daniwatsonau

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6 months ago