Daredevil photographer Isaac Wright

There was something about sneaking to the summits of skyscrapers and bridges, feeling the wind rush past and the world drop away below, that gave Isaac Wright a euphoric sense of freedom. He began taking photographs from those heights, attempting to capture the dizzying sensation through his lens, and in doing so, found a deep, personal joy.

But not long into his photography journey, that sense of liberation was tested. The same images that resonated with followers online—his legs dangling over cityscapes, his body perched atop steel beams—drew a very different reaction from law enforcement in his hometown of Cincinnati.

Wright, known as Drift on social media, became the subject of a multi-state manhunt. Police didn’t see a daring artist but a potential threat. He was arrested, charged with numerous felonies, and at one point faced up to 50 years in prison for his urban explorations.

Instead of retreating, Wright pushed forward. He posted bail and, even as the legal system bore down on him, continued his climbs. “I never stopped shooting, not for a day,” he said recently, standing on a Brooklyn rooftop overlooking Manhattan. “They tried to convince me that I was wrong. But I never believed it.”

Now, Wright has his first solo gallery show in New York City, and a documentary is in production. He says the turmoil of being jailed for his art has shaped his work in unexpected ways. “Being locked up turned out to be a gift,” he said. “You don’t fully understand freedom until you lose it.”

Raised in a rough part of Cincinnati, Wright joined the Army in 2014 to build a better future. As a paratrooper assigned to a Special Forces unit, he ended up assisting a chaplain. After deployment, he was sent to a unit wracked by suicides. When five soldiers died in one summer, Wright was left reeling.

Diagnosed with PTSD and depression, he sought solace and found it—unexpectedly—in photography. One night in Houston, he scaled a 75-story building, sat alone on its roof, and watched the city glow below. The moment offered him peace and clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

Photography became both therapy and escape. During the week he was in uniform, counseling soldiers. On weekends, he was climbing rooftops, slipping past fences, and posting his vertigo-inducing shots on Instagram under the name @driftershoots.

In 2020, after a parachuting injury, the Army discharged him. That same day, Wright drove to a Mississippi River bridge and camped on one of its suspension towers. It was the beginning of a cross-country quest—climbing, photographing, and supporting himself with app-based food deliveries.

He approached each climb as performance art—a physical, emotional, and visual challenge. The danger was real. Once, dangling above the Detroit River on the Ambassador Bridge, he had to decide whether to risk a life-threatening pull-up to reach the next ledge. He went for it.

Wright’s troubles with the law began when he tried to summit the tallest building in Cincinnati. Spotted on surveillance cameras, he narrowly escaped a massive police response. But detectives identified him through his social media handle and issued a nationwide warrant labeling him armed and dangerous.

He was eventually arrested in Arizona after police shut down a section of Interstate 40 and pulled him from a car at gunpoint. Prosecutors requested a $400,000 bond. Unable to pay, Wright spent four months in jail, 23 hours a day in a cell.

While other artists like Philippe Petit and Keith Haring had brushes with the law, their punishments were minimal. Wright, who is Black, believes race played a role in the severity of his treatment. Other charges followed—in Louisiana, Michigan, Kentucky, and Pennsylvania—as police tried to make an example of him.

Ultimately, the courts disagreed with the police’s harsh assessment. Charges were reduced or dismissed. In Ohio, he was granted deferred probation on condition he attend therapy and stay out of trouble. But the experience only deepened his resolve.

His photos soon went viral as NFTs, selling for tens of thousands. He earned about $10 million, donated to a bail fund, and resumed climbing—this time globally, including Paris, Cairo, and Manhattan’s iconic towers. He violated probation, but says he couldn’t stop.

Critics say Wright’s work captures something rare: a blend of beauty, risk, rebellion, and vulnerability. “He gives us access to worlds we can’t reach,” said photography critic Lyle Rexer. “And somehow, he shows us something we didn’t even know we needed to see.”