A new FAA flight restriction now covers one nautical mile along the U.S.-Mexico border, including much of San Ysidro and Otay Mesa. Commercial work is not among the listed exceptions. Here is what the NOTAM says and how I am changing my shoots.

A routine shoot for a landscape architect client turned out to be one of San Diego's most striking Craftsman houses, the single most "extroverted" example in builder David Owen Dryden's entire body of work.

I've spent fifteen years getting rooms to tell the truth in front of a camera. Here's why I think it's time to try that discipline on the water, and why San Diego's yacht brokers should take a meeting with me.

The 1980s design magazine look wasn't just “taste,” it was a film and camera limitation. And once you see my rule at a property like the US Grant Hotel, "lights off" turns out to be more specific.

Ever notice that the lamps in Dwell or Architectural Digest are always switched off? It’s my personal preference when I shoot interiors, and there’s also a real, technical reason for that convention.

Three restaurants I photographed in San Diego are gone now: a dessert bar, a Mediterranean takeout spot, and a science-themed bar with real money behind it. All three were built by ambitious owners taking a real financial risk. None of them made it.

Equipment operators are focused on their job. The last thing they want is to have to keep an eye on a photographer in their blind spot or keep track of a drone hovering somewhere nearby. My hi-vis vest helps, but it’s not a guarantee. The only thing that actually keeps me safe is operating like nobody sees me, and staying out of vehicle paths and blind spots.

I had a pre-plotted flight path set up for monthly progress shots at Goldfinch at Mulberry Gardens, an affordable senior housing project in Riverside I’ve been documenting for Allgire General Contractors, on behalf of Eden Housing. Same route every month, so the shots stay comparable over time. Except this one visit, the drone kept aborting partway through and heading “home”.

There’s a lot of prep and planning that go into construction shoots. Half the work happens before I ever put a boot on dirt (brown clay here in Southern California), and if I skip that part, the shoot can go sideways fast.

I had every box checked. LAANC approval. A hired visual observer in hi-vis standing next to me. Flight paths built around FAA rules for flying over people. District permission on file. A shot list from the client.

Mid-shoot, during a packed opening home game, a voice came over the PA: "The person flying the drone needs to land immediately, or the home team will have to forfeit the game."

That person was me.

Some of the world's biggest brands protect details most people never notice. The Tiffany & Co. signature blue isn't just “their color,” it’s a legally trademarked Pantone shade (PMS 1837) that no one else is allowed to use commercially.

FedEx runs a different color per division, green for Ground, red for Freight, but the logo structure and spacing never move an inch. UPS trademarked the exact shade of brown on its trucks (PMS 476).

Brand guidelines exist for a reason. Consistency builds recognition, and a customer should know your brand whether they’re looking at a spa in San Diego or a billboard in Back Bay. But the strongest brands aren’t the ones that follow their own guidelines the hardest. They're the ones that know exactly where they can flex (and relax).

You know the feeling. You walk through the front door of a new restaurant or watering hole and immediately clock the vibe (“amaze!” or “yikes!”). You don’t have to talk to anybody, sit at a booth, or even taste an appetizer.

You just know almost instantly.

In my experience, brand owners have long treated drone footage as a “bonus shot.” One establishing angle at the top of a hotel’s promo video, then back to ground level for the rest of the story. That’s changing, and for good reason.