The Badlands are a place of contrasts—harsh yet beautiful, rugged yet delicate. The landscape stretches in layered formations, sculpted by time, its colors shifting with the light. It was here, among the rolling terrain and dust-laden air, that I watched bison, their presence both ancient and commanding.

Throughout my years studying wildlife, I have encountered these magnificent creatures in many landscapes, each experience as breathtaking as the last. Whether roaming the open plains, standing against the backdrop of towering rock formations, or moving through the dust-filled air of the Badlands, their presence is always striking.
The massive bulls, their sheer size and power undeniable, stood watch over the mothers and their calves. The young ones, still small but sturdy, moved with playful energy, staying close to their mothers as they explored their surroundings.

The dust, kicked up by their movements, hung in the air, catching the sunlight and creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. It softened the edges of the landscape, turning the scene into something timeless, as if I had stepped into a moment untouched by modern life.

Bison have long been symbols of resilience, their history intertwined with the land itself. Watching them here, in the Badlands, felt like witnessing a piece of that history—a reminder of their endurance, their quiet strength, their role in shaping the ecosystem.
Capturing this experience in paint is about more than just form—it’s about preserving the feeling of the place, the weight of time, the presence of these animals in a landscape that has held them for generations.