Meet Photographer, Chad Ziemendorf

Chad is a photographer based in Franklin, TN, having lived in North Dakota for seven years and even marrying a ND native. Chad states that his work, “lives at the intersection of vast landscapes and landmark human endeavors.” Speaking of landscapes and landmark human endeavors, for the past 3+ years, Chad has been the exclusive documentary photographer for the Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library, watching a $450 million national landmark rise from bare prairie in the North Dakota Badlands. “It has been an honor to have a front row seat to watch such an ambitious and iconic project come to life,” Chad says. 

An Interview with Chad Ziemendorf

1. When did you first realize your love of photography?

It happened sideways, the way the best things often do. In 2008 the financial crisis effectively ended my career in commercial real estate, and I enrolled at San Jose State to finish my degree. While knocking out required coursework, I signed up for one “fun” elective - an intro photography class - just to have something enjoyable on my schedule. I was hooked before I understood how to get my camera out of auto mode. Something about the craft felt immediately familiar. The anticipation, the preparation, the split-second decision-making - it reminded me of my years as a catcher in professional baseball, where success depended on reading a situation before it fully developed and being in position before the moment arrived. I told my wife almost immediately that I was going to be a photographer for the rest of my life. She believed me, which says everything about her. What I couldn't have known then was that photography would become not just a career but the primary vehicle through which I try to leave people better than I found them.

2. How did you get involved with the TR Presidential Library?

In 2020 I was hired for a single isolated assignment - to photograph the site before construction began. The library had an architectural design competition on the horizon and needed imagery that would help the competing firms feel the landscape, understand the light, and fall in love with the place before they ever drew a line. So I woke up before sunrise, headed to Medora, and photographed the prairie the way I photograph any landscape - with patience, with presence, and simply letting the light reveal the innate character of the place.

That assignment ended and I moved on. I assumed it was a one-time engagement.

Three years later, in 2023, I received a call from Ken Vein, one of the founding leaders of the project. He told me that since my original assignment the library had worked with a number of other photographers on various projects. He said simply that the quality of my original work was better - and that he was convinced no one else could do what I do on this particular project. He asked if I'd be interested in documenting the construction from that point forward through opening day.

I said yes without hesitation. And I've been showing up every month since.

3. What was your favorite part of capturing the process of The Library?

Two things, and they're very different from each other.

The first is purely visual and creative. Many people may or may not realize that photographers are often watching backgrounds more than the subject. Find the right background, find the right light, and then wait for the action to move through the scene. Don’t go chasing action all over the place otherwise you end up with a bunch of half-baked pictures with bad backgrounds and bad light. 

Construction sites are chaotic by nature heavy equipment, exposed materials, workers in every direction, constantly changing backgrounds. Finding compelling, intentional images and clean(ish) backgrounds inside that chaos is a genuine creative challenge. 

The geometry of structural steel, the texture of rammed earth walls being compacted layer by layer, the way late afternoon light catches the dust from a dirt pour. These aren't scenes that announce themselves. You have to earn them by showing up prepared, knowing the site, and being ready before the moment arrives. There’s a lot of waiting, and it’s really rewarding when the waiting pays off. 

The second is something I didn't anticipate when I started. Witnessing the collective human effort required to bring a project of this scale to life is genuinely humbling. Every person on that job site - from the project managers to the craftspeople doing finish work - is contributing to something that will outlast all of them. There's a quiet dignity in that kind of work that I've tried to honor with every visit. When I look back at 10,000 images spanning 3+ years, what moves me most isn't the building. It's the people who built it.

4. How will you stay involved after The Library is completed?

My relationship with the library won’t  end on opening day, it will evolve. I'll continue working with the TRPL team in a marketing and event coverage capacity, helping them share the library's mission with the world as it enters this new chapter as a fully operational institution. 

Beyond the library specifically, this project opened a door I intend to walk through for the rest of my career. It gave me a clarity about my purpose that I'd been chasing for years - and reminded me that the same transformative landscape that shaped Theodore Roosevelt is still doing that work today.

5. You've been working on this project for over three years. What will you do when you're done?

This project didn't just give me great work to show - it gave me the clearest sense of professional purpose I've ever had.

I now pursue two things with complete conviction. The first is Legacy Project Documentation - comprehensive, long-form visual storytelling for landmark developments that deserve more than a construction photographer showing up for a few days at the end. The TRPL taught me that the most important images of a project aren't just the finished building. They're the pictures that memorialize the  journey, the decisions, the people, the setbacks, and the moments of breakthrough. 

That full story has real value for fundraising, stakeholder engagement, institutional memory, and for the historical record. I want to spend the next decade doing that work for organizations building things that matter.

The second is my fine art practice. The same North Dakota landscapes that shaped Theodore Roosevelt's character and legacy have shaped mine. I create large-format landscape prints - some at truly immersive scales - designed not as decoration but as what I call visual anchors. These environmental transformations offer psychological space in spaces that desperately need it. The "Boundless" exhibition at The Capital Gallery is the first major public presentation of that work, and I'm excited for North Dakota audiences to experience it.

These last three years set the stage for everything that comes next. I've never had more clarity, and I've never been more grateful for the inevitable process that made that clarity possible. And because North Dakota still feels like home and is the place where my creativity is most alive, I’ll never stop exploring the Badlands.