My life through lenses: A Northwest Exposure judge on her journey as a photographer

For as long as I can remember, I always wanted to have a camera in my hand. Growing up, I spent hours taking photos of my backyard or of my pets, with less-than-perfect framing and often a fingertip peeking into shot. I loved looking through old family pictures — I would make collages and little books and paste any remaining prints all over my bedroom walls. Growing up, I was lucky to be surrounded and inspired by creative people. My mom worked in a TV station and her dad, my grandfather, volunteered for a local newspaper as a photojournalist after retiring from careers in radio and running a local stadium venue.

An early photograph of mine (thumb included) of my childhood dog Patches laying on some clean laundry.

My grandfather, or as I called him, Pa, lived in Wisconsin, about an 8-hour drive from us in Ohio and we would visit a few times every year. He lived on a lake, which provided tremendous relief from the hot midwestern summers and beautiful views all year round. Pa taught me the art of reading out loud, and instilled a love of nature, public radio, storytelling and of course, photography.

Like many kids, I moved away from some of the things I loved the most in childhood. Around 11, I began to find more exciting things to spend my time obsessing over, like Neopets or Twilight or softball or learning guitar. And I can say for a number of years, photography waned from my scope of ever-changing interests.

But that attitude once again shifted for me in high school when I enrolled in a film photography class and art history class simultaneously. My high school had a full photo lab where we developed everything, from the literal film itself to the final photographic print. It taught me the value of a single second and how precious each shot could be. I learned the power of composure and of framing subjects to tell a story within a single moment in time.

In art history, I had an incredible teacher, Ms. Wilkinson, who awoke in me a deep love and admiration of all forms of art and an understanding of the complexities of symbolism, lighting and color. Both photography and other forms of visual art capture moments in time and give us a unique lens of what people loved or didn’t love. They allow us to see how life used to be and understand some of the feelings and emotions of humanity in a unique, creative context. 

Since then, I’ve been lucky enough to travel the world and see some of the places in person that I learned about from Ms. Wilkinson. 

I was able to transfer some of the knowledge I learned in art history into my photographic work, which made the timing of those two classes feel like perfect serendipity. These courses changed the trajectory of my life forever. I once again found joy in learning and creating.

I, of course, still went to Wisconsin to visit Pa. The summer before my senior year of high school, we talked about the sports I played and the books I was reading and what I’d learned that year in school. Once again, we were able to connect over photography. He was getting older, and his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. However, he was excited to hear I was back “in the game” of photography. I remember sitting on the porch facing the lake, looking through photos in a local newspaper, discussing some of the composition techniques we liked about each photo. I threw in a few terms I’d learned in Art History class to try and impress him, which he loved. I left that week feeling closer to him than ever.

View from Pa’s house.

A few days after our trip to the lake, there was a package with my name on it waiting for me. It was Pa's beloved film camera with a note encouraging me to keep learning and taking pictures. 

When applying for colleges that year, I took a good hard look (as much as a 17-year-old can) at the things I thought I would be good at and would potentially enjoy doing every day for the next 40-plus years. My mom always told me “Find what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” And while that solid advice still rings true to me, a lot of hard work went into being able to do what I love for a living. After earning a degree in photojournalism and flourishing, thanks to the inspiration of amazing professors, I was more than excited to use my degree. I loved (and still love) journalism and believe deeply in the power and responsibility held by those in the storytelling industry. 

Victoria during the filming of Coextinction. Photo by Elena Jean.

After graduating from college in Ohio, I moved to Washington to help create a documentary called Coextinction, which focuses on the endangered Southern Resident killer whales and their connection to their ecosystem as a whole. The film shows the connection between the injustices perpetrated against the both environment and Indigenous people, amplifying the voices of Indigenous leaders and activists.

During that time I was able to experience so many unforgettable moments and truly live out my dream in ways I never thought possible. I was able to use the skills I’d learned over my lifetime to educate folks about important issues and help use my skills to support Indigenous-led movements and educate the public on complex ecological systems. Since then, I’ve been lucky enough to write and photograph for various publications and earn a full time position at WTA as Multimedia content coordinator.

A photo of J-16 or Slick, a matriarch of the endangered Southern Resident killer whale population. Taken from land in Friday Harbor. 

In this beautiful state, the opportunity to take incredible photographs feels unlimited. We are in such a unique part of the world with so many different biomes to explore and document. My whole life, I’ve been passionate about wildlife, especially whales (that’s a whole other story) and being able to live somewhere I have the opportunity to learn more about them and photograph them practically from my backyard feels surreal.

For me, photography holds the power to capture a moment forever. I find it exciting that no two pictures I take will never be exactly the same. Each of these glimpses can hold so much insight for those who come after us; photos can show what landscapes looked like or what wildlife existed in places they where might not always be. They can show future generations what kind of crazy hiking gear you used, or show you and your best friend on your first, second or thirtieth backpacking trip. I find myself pinching myself because I feel so lucky to live in such an otherworldly place.

Salmon spawning in Washington.

Pa passed away about 10 years ago, and he never got to see me graduate with a degree in photojournalism. Nor did he see me go on to help create an award-winning film about orcas and intersectional environmentalism. I still have his film camera and a few of his favorite books. But to this day, every time I take a picture (or read out loud or listen to NPR), I think of him. 

After he passed, I found this photo in one of his drawers. I keep it with me all the time as a reminder of how far I’ve come and how much further I still have to go. It serves as a reminder to myself to always be learning and be open to new ideas and opportunities. I am so thrilled to begin a new chapter at Washington Trails Association and specifically to help lead the Northwest Exposure Photo Contest.

I hope to see some of your amazing photographs, no matter what stage of your photographic journey you may be in. So many opportunities have opened for me simply because I took even the smallest leap and I hope something in my story inspires you to do the same. 


Back of photo reads: "Photograph of Pa by Victoria Obermeyer (age 7) … Not a skilled photographer YET!" 

Victoria coordinates Northwest Exposure Photo Contest, WTA's annual celebration of outdoor photography and the community of hikers who explore Washington's trails. We hope you'll make Northwest Exposure part of your photography story by submitting your photos between August 12 and October 6, 2024.