Mountains are calling & I must go! Let’s wander where the Wi-Fi is weak & the trails are steep.
Adventure awaits!
Jason Roberts is a photographer who threw himself back into the art like a man escaping a burning building. No plan, no roadmap, just a camera and a hunger for something real. Oregon is his stomping ground: mountains that bleed into the sky, rivers that rage like drunk gods, and ghost towns crumbling under the weight of time. That’s where his lens points, not at the polished, the staged, or the safe, but at the raw nerve of the world.
Roberts walked away from photography once, swallowed by the static of daily life, but he came back swinging. The camera became his weapon and salvation, a way to wrestle order from chaos and bring back proof that the wild is still out there kicking. Every shot is a field report: lightning storms stitched over the Three Sisters, deer skulls strung up in hunting camps, forests whispering secrets in the dark.
Through Nerdy Viking Photography, Roberts keeps driving down back roads, chasing storms, and crawling into the forgotten corners of the Pacific Northwest. His work is part survival note, part love letter, part battle cry. A reminder that beauty isn’t gentle, it’s feral, and you have to step off the map to find it.
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Fear and Loathing in the Reset
There comes a point when the city gets into your bloodstream like a toxic drip. Portland has a way of crawling under your skin until every nerve feels raw. The streets are cracked and twitching, the air heavy with exhaust and human desperation, and the sidewalks scream louder than the politicians who pretend not to Read more
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The Truth Makes People Itch
Odin help me, people don’t like the street photos. They say it’s too raw, too ugly, too soaked in piss and graffiti and the desperate faces of the street. They want their photography pretty, packaged like a goddamn Hallmark card sunsets, lattes, staged smiles in front of murals with hashtags dripping off the frame like Read more
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Fried Sugar and Desperation
Portland. Saturday. The streets smelled of fried sugar and desperation, powdered donuts stacked against human wreckage. Just outside the neon circus of Voodoo, the farmer’s market pumped out the illusion of plenty: fresh fruit, artisan bread, overpriced kale for the enlightened bourgeois. And then this man, folded into the sidewalk like a casualty of the Read more
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The Nylon Coffin
Portland never hides its teeth. One block up from the supposed serenity of the Chinese Garden, the city drops the mask and bares the raw machinery of survival. There it was: a nylon coffin pitched against the concrete wall, flimsy fabric braced against the indifference of traffic, weather, and fate. The tent wasn’t a home Read more
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Through the Glass: Fear and Loathing at the Edge of the Garden
I was standing in the Chinese Garden, wrapped in that false serenity, staring out through carved wooden windows that felt more like portholes into another dimension. Inside: koi drifting like lazy hallucinations, red lanterns swaying in the breeze, the faint perfume of blossoms that didn’t belong to this century. Outside: Portland. Raw, twitching, stinking Portland. Read more
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Fear and Loathing in Portland’s Chinatown
Sweet Odin, the stench hit first like some unholy cocktail of human waste, burnt espresso, and the sour tang of IPA foam rotting in the gutters. Portland was alive in the worst way, twitching like a junkie with a toothache. I wasn’t in the woods this time. No elk, no rivers, no quiet majesty of Read more
Nerdy Viking Photography 