A Note To Our Fellow Adventurers
At RZE, we believe the best stories about our watches are told by the people who wear them. For this Adventure Log, we're glad to hand the lens to our friend Richard Bush.
Richard started out as a motoring journalist back in 2011 and still reviews cars today, but the camera slowly took over. He now runs his own production company, Rich Media Productions, making interview-led films, documentaries, and brand stories.
In this entry, Richard shares what adventure really means to him, and how that same thinking shapes the way he photographs watches. Instead of chasing perfect studio lighting, he'd rather take a watch to a rock, a cave, or the coast and let the place tell the story.
He does it all on the Resolute 36 Mojito green, a dial he chose for a reason so simple it'll make you smile. We're proud the Resolute 36 has found a home on his wrist, and we hope you enjoy the read. You can follow more of Richard's work on Instagram at @richmediaproductions.
- Huiy Tang, Co-Founder
The dictionary definition of adventure is “an unusual, exciting, or daring experience.” I quite like that, because nowhere does it say you need to climb a mountain or cross a desert. For me, adventure is often just saying yes — going somewhere new, taking the long way or finding a spark in an ordinary day.
I started out as a motoring journalist in 2011 and still review cars today, a job that trained my eye to focus on the little details: surfaces, proportions and how objects fit into real life. Later, I moved deeper into photography and filmmaking, and started my own production company. Watches sort of slipped into that world naturally, and I’ve had hundreds pass through my hands over the years. And the ones that stick around aren’t always the expensive or hyped ones.
I don’t really consider myself an adventurer. I’m a photographer and filmmaker, a dad of two, a marathon runner, occasional scuba diver and someone who spends far too much time thinking about watches. But the more I’ve thought about what adventure actually means, the more I’ve realised that quite a lot of my life probably qualifies.
My camera has taken me all over the place. One week I might be filming interviews in an office in London or Glasgow, the next I’m following firefighters around with a camera or travelling across the country to shoot a documentary. That’s probably my version of adventure.
Curiosity tends to get the better of me, because I’m not particularly good at being casually interested in things. If something catches my attention, I tend to jump in with both feet: I research it, overthink it, try different versions and want to understand what makes something good, what makes something bad and, probably most importantly, what makes something right for me.
Watches have been a particularly good example of that. In a relatively short period of time I’ve owned somewhere north of 300 watches, not because I ever set out to own 300, but because I was curious. Different sizes, movements and materials; tiny independent brands and big Swiss names; cheap quartz watches and expensive mechanical ones.
Occasionally, that curiosity has taken me a layer deeper. I’ve customised watches, swapped parts and tinkered with movements, even stripping the automatic winding bridge from a movement, turning it into a hand-wound watch simply because I wanted to see if I could create the thinner, simpler watch I had in my head.
I wouldn’t describe myself as particularly technically minded — I just enjoy tinkering with things and learning as I go. That’s exactly how I learned to use a camera.
The funny thing is that after trying all those watches, my tastes have become simpler rather than more complicated. I have a small wrist, so give me something around 36–38mm, comfortable enough that I can put it on in the morning and forget about it, and we’re about 80% there.
That’s one of the big reasons I chose the Resolute 36. As for choosing the Mojito green dial, that’s even simpler: my wardrobe is full of greens, khakis, browns and earthy colours, and the Mojito matches my favourite green shirt. Sometimes you don’t need a more complicated reason than that.
Most of my work these days is built around people and storytelling. I make interview-led films, documentaries, event films and brand stories, and whether I’m making a film or taking a photograph, I’m usually looking for the same thing: context.
Where are they? Where are they going? Where have they been? What happened five minutes before this shot, and what might happen five minutes afterwards? I approach watch photography in exactly the same way.
There are some incredible photographers producing immaculate studio photographs of watches, and it truly is an art form in and of itself — perfect lighting, perfect reflections, perfect dials. I appreciate that enormously, but it’s not really what excites me. I’d rather take a watch somewhere.
Put it on a rock, take it to the coast, climb into a cave with it. Get it wet, get it dirty and let the environment dictate what happens. When I’m planning a watch shoot, I’m probably more concerned with finding the right props to build the story than figuring out how to lug a key light into the middle of a woodland.
A backpack, notebook, coffee cup or climbing rope can all be little clues, things that make you wonder who is wearing the watch and what they’re doing there. The watch matters, obviously, but the story always comes first.
Some of my favourite watch shoots have involved very little traditional product photography. I’ve taken dive watches to the beach, gone fishing, photographed around aircrafts, cafés and city streets, and built shoots around running, skateboarding and everyday life. Sometimes there’s a detailed plan, other times there’s a camera, a watch and a vague idea that somewhere might look interesting — those are often the best ones.
They say the best camera is the one you have with you, and that’s particularly true of my watch photography.
Sometimes the family and I will go for a walk, watch on wrist, and I deliberately won’t take my best camera, instead opting for a little pocket camera, because I’d rather be part of whatever we’re doing than spend the whole time trying to create a technically perfect photograph.
Strangely, some of my favourite watch photographs have happened that way. I might spot a little pool of water collected inside the base of a tree. The watch comes off, I snap the shot and thirty seconds later we carry on walking, usually with my wife expectantly glancing over her shoulder.
Perfection is great, but I’d rather have the experience, and one of the unexpected benefits of doing this for a living is that photography gives you an excuse to explore.
I travel all over with my work, although rarely in particularly glamorous circumstances. Usually I’m carrying too much equipment, worrying about batteries, wondering where I parked the car and questioning why I brought that extra tripod. But the camera continually puts me somewhere I otherwise wouldn’t have been, and that spills into the rest of my life.
I like being outdoors and I’ll happily disappear somewhere because I’ve got an idea for a photograph. Having two young children has probably made me appreciate those opportunities even more.
Adventure doesn’t have to mean disappearing into the wilderness for three months. Sometimes it’s just deciding to go somewhere, taking the longer route, stopping at the beach on the way home or following an idea because you’re curious about where it might lead.
Owning so many watches has eventually taught me what I actually need from one, and it’s surprisingly little. Give me compact dimensions, 100 metres of water resistance and a screw-down crown and, realistically, that’s enough to get me anywhere I’m likely to go and through pretty much anything I’m likely to do.
Watch people like the term GADA — Go Anywhere, Do Anything. For me, that isn’t really a particular style of watch because it’s different for everyone; it’s simply a watch that fits into your life.
My keepers tend to be the ones I can put on in the morning for a client shoot, throw camera bags around all day, then decide to swing by the beach for a walk on the way home, all without having to revisit the watch box.
That’s what interests me about the Resolute 36. It’s small enough to disappear on my wrist, tougher than nails — it’s titanium, after all — and I can simply put it out of my mind when I need to. The micro-adjust on the clasp has been a particularly welcome addition too, given how much my wrist size can fluctuate with the infamously unreliable UK weather.
A good adventure watch doesn’t nag you to scale a cliff, it just sits ready while you live your life, and that’s what the Resolute 36 has been for me so far.
The stellar lume doesn’t hurt either. Whether I’m driving through a tunnel or standing sandwiched in a crowded lift, suddenly seeing the dial come to life and wink at me gives me a childlike joy that’s hard to articulate.
Maybe all of the above counts as adventure. I’m still not sure I’d put “adventurer” on my business card, though.
For me, it’s more about being curious enough to go somewhere. Take the camera, wear the watch and see what happens — then come home with a photograph and, hopefully, a story worth telling.
