15. Interviews with Conservation Photographers
“. . . the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.” —Steve Jobs
Amy is a professional photographer and writer whose work has appeared in Audubon, Outdoor Photographer, National Wildlife, Sierra, and other publications. She has received numerous honors, including the prestigious Daniel Housberg Wilderness Image Award from the Alaska Conservation Foundation, a Lowell Thomas Award from the Society of American Travel Writers Foundation, and the Voice of the Wild Award from the Alaska Wilderness League. She is also the recipient of a Philip Hyde Grant Award for her work in the Tongass National Forest of Alaska, as well as a Mission Award, both presented by the North American Nature Photography Association. Her book Salmon in the Trees: Life in Alaska’s Tongass Rain Forest (www.salmoninthetrees.org) is the winner of an Independent Publisher Book Award and two Nautilus Book Awards. Amy is a member of the Society of Environmental Journalists and is a founding Fellow of the International League of Conservation Photographers. View her work at www.amygulick.com
Photo credit: Amy Gulick.
What is conservation photography? Your definition of it.
Conservation photography is the practice of making images that are used to raise awareness about conservation issues with the goal of moving people to take action.
How did you become involved in photography and when did you become involved in conservation?
As a kid, I was fascinated with both nature and storytelling. Before I could read or write, I would draw pictures to illustrate my stories. One day, I took my dad’s Kodak pocket camera for a spin, and from then on the camera became my tool of choice for illustrating my stories. I have an activist personality—my first letter to the editor was published at age 10. I marched in a sea turtle costume to protest international trade policies harming wildlife. I regularly attend public hearings and testify in support of clean air and water, and our public lands. It follows that my published stories focus on raising awareness about the natural world and its significance to humanity and all life on Earth.
What distinguishes conservation photography from ordinary nature photography?
The big difference is what happens after the images are made. In conservation photography, I always say that the real work begins after the shutter is pressed. We use our images to raise awareness, shape public opinion, and influence decisions that affect conservation issues. Most ordinary nature photographs are not made with these goals in mind.
Why should other photographers become involved in conservation?
The obvious answer is to ensure they will always have subjects to photograph! Without wild places and wildlife, we wouldn’t be able to pursue our passion of photographing natural landscapes and their inhabitants. But I also believe we have a bigger responsibility to act as stewards for the lands and critters we love to photograph. We are out there experiencing magical moments. Who better than us to advocate for the preservation of nature?
In my book, I talk about photographing the good, the bad, and the ugly. How do you approach a theme or project you are working on with these things in mind?
My approach has changed over the years. I used to think that if we showed viewers the threats and negative impacts to a place or species, they would take action to stop the harm. But I have learned that there is a fine line between getting people’s attention with negative images and overwhelming them to the point where they just tune out. My approach now is to make people fall in love with a place/species first, and then introduce the potential threats/harm. This involves showing a lot of beautiful moving images and just a handful of “ugly” ones. If people don’t care about something first, then they won’t be moved to take action—regardless of how shocking and ugly the images may be.
“We are out there experiencing magical moments. Who better than us to advocate for the preservation of nature?”
Do you think a good “ugly” photo has as much impact as a pleasing nature photograph?
A good “ugly” photo can have tremendous impact, but it will affect the viewer differently than a pleasing image. A beautiful photograph evokes feelings of joy and wonder—these photos should be used heavily to help viewers fall in love with a place or species. It is only after viewers feel that they have come to know a subject and care about it that the “ugly” photos have a chance of having an impact. When used properly, the “ugly” photos should evoke feelings of sadness and rage in viewers who feel the place or species they now care about is being harmed.
Have you taken many “ugly” photos? Why? Where? How were they used?
I have photographed my fair share of industrial-scale clearcut logging in the coastal temperate rain forests of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska. The sheer scale of this type of logging and the resulting damage to wildlife, streams, and people can be irreparable. Because much of this happens away from most people’s eyes, I feel a responsibility to inform the broader public about what are clearly unsustainable logging practices. There are better ways to harvest timber and we should be employing those. I have used my clearcut photos in my public presentations featuring my book Salmon in the Trees: Life in Alaska’s Tongass Rain Forest.
Susan Sontag once wrote, “Nobody ever discovered ugliness through photographs. But many, through photographs, have discovered beauty.” Any thoughts on this?
There are obvious “beauty” shots—colorful sunsets, sparkling waterscapes, cute baby animals, etc. But I also think that beauty can be discovered in a stark landscape or in a close-up image of an iridescent beetle eye or the striking pattern of snake skin—subjects that most people may not consider beautiful. It’s our job to find and illustrate our subjects so that viewers can discover beauty in new ways. As for “discovering” ugliness, Sontag is right. There are universal themes of ugliness and we know them when we see them—harm, suffering, destruction.
Do you consider the lighting and mood differently when photographing the ugly (pollution, damage, etc) over photographing the beauty of a scene?
I have certainly seen devastating ugly photos shot in the most pleasing light conditions—a shocking clearcut in gorgeous morning light. These don’t work for me. Lighting creates mood, and if you’re trying to invoke a sense of sadness or rage, then don’t shoot ugly photos in pleasing light. It’s too confusing for the viewer, who may perceive the gravity of the scene as being “not so bad” because of the conflicting feelings of joy and wonder that the lighting evokes. If you’re photographing an ugly scene, then it makes sense to pair it with ugly lighting—stark, gloomy, etc.—to have the maximum impact.
Certain photographs have great shock value. Many years ago, on assignment for Audubon magazine in East Africa, I photographed a dead rhino with its horns cut off. Audubon did not use the photo because it was too shocking and graphic. Any thoughts?
If the goal is to move people to take action regarding an urgent situation, a shocking graphic can certainly spur people to act, but only if they first care about the subject. I think two photographs paired together—one endearing and one shocking—can serve both purposes, but it also depends on the audience. People well-versed in conservation issues generally already care, and the shocking image may be all they need to step up and take action. A broader audience may need to ease into the topic before being hit with the shocking image.
But there are other factors at work here. If an organization’s goal is to retain and increase its membership in order to achieve conservation goals, they may run the risk of offending, alienating, or overwhelming viewers with shocking images. This can be tricky. But in the end, I think we as photographers have to show the truth, no matter how ugly it may be. And the better conservation organizations aren’t afraid to show the truth to its viewers. The truth hurts, no doubt about it. We may lose viewers, but we also may gain viewers who are more likely to be engaged and take action on conservation issues.
“Do we continue to carve up this still-intact and remarkable ecosystem to the point where it no longer functions for the benefit of both people and wildlife?”
What tips and tricks or techniques can you recommend?
Get out there and shoot what you’re passionate about. And even though we may focus on wild places and wildlife, don’t forget that there’s only one species viewing our images. Help audiences understand why the subjects you photograph are relevant to humanity. Tell stories about people affected by your subjects. See and show the big picture!
What about involvement with conservation organizations? Thoughts? And how about sending your photos to congresspersons or senators to influence legislation?
It is absolutely crucial that we collaborate with conservation organizations. Our photographs alone may inspire people to act, but without the follow-through of organizations working for many years to achieve conservation outcomes, we lack the capacity to pass legislation, establish protected areas, list endangered species, etc. I liken a successful working relationship with a conservation organization to the great line from the movie Casablanca, when Humphrey Bogart says, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” We can be the go-to for all things visual and strengthen the communications of organizations. When it works, it’s a beautiful thing.
Current projects? Future Projects? Ongoing projects?
My ongoing project is Salmon in the Trees: Life in Alaska’s Tongass Rain Forest. The Tongass National Forest contains one-third of the world’s rare, old-growth, coastal temperate rainforests. The issue is do we continue to carve up this still-intact and remarkable ecosystem to the point where it no longer functions for the benefit of both people and wildlife? Since the dawn of time, man has always looked to nature to provide basic survival needs. But since the Industrial Revolution, we’ve looked to nature as a place to take from without really understanding the consequences of large-scale resource extraction, and without understanding how we benefit from functioning ecosystems. There is a lot of hope in the Tongass because there is still time to get it right and we know it’s the right thing to do. It has been very gratifying to work in this part of the world and help people understand what makes it so special and worth preserving.
Photo credit: Amy Gulick.
Thoughts about iLCP? Why are you a member?
Conservation photography can be a solo endeavor, which I rather enjoy. But coming together with colleagues from all over the world to collaborate and use our work to advance conservation on a global scale will accomplish more than each of us can do individually. Being a part of this passionate organization is inspiring and empowering. I am heartened to know there are others doing this critical work, and my fellow photographers motivate me to continue my own work and push the boundaries of what’s possible.
I’m curious, how did your book Salmon in the Trees get its title?
The book gets its title from the remarkable connection between salmon and trees in Alaska’s Tongass National Forest. Salmon are born in freshwater streams and rivers. They head out to the ocean to mature, and then return to their birth streams to spawn the next generation. This part of the world boasts one of the highest densities of both brown and black bears due in part to an abundance of wild salmon in nearly 5,000 spawning streams. Bears catch great quantities of salmon and spread the carcasses throughout the forest. Over time, the nutrients from the salmon decompose into the soil and the trees absorb this rich fish fertilizer through their roots. Scientists have actually traced a marine nitrogen, called Nitrogen 15, in trees near salmon streams that links directly back to the fish. So ocean nutrients—brought by salmon, delivered by bears, and absorbed by plants—link the land and the sea.
Alexandra (Alex) Garcia is the Executive Director of the International League of Conservation Photographers.
What is conservation photography? Your definition of it.
Conservation photography aims to present a picture (or series of pictures) that highlights the man-made threats that are putting the depicted place, animal, or person in peril. It, hopefully, will also point the viewer toward concrete and viable solutions to these threats. Ultimately, conservation photography is about inspiring thoughtful action with the goal of achieving real and tangible conservation gains.
What distinguishes conservation photography from ordinary nature photography?
Ordinary nature photography doesn’t often aim for much more than depicting a beautiful place or nature event in a visually stunning way. It wants to be framed and hung in a home or gallery to amaze the viewer with the richness and beauty of the natural world. This is a perfectly fine goal, and we all need beauty in our lives. But ordinary nature photography won’t show you why that place or event may not exist in 5, 10, or 20 years if we as humans don’t change our ways. Nature photography will show you a beautiful image of a mother and baby elephant drinking together by a water hole. Conservation photography will show you the same thing, but then it will also reveal the poacher hiding in the brush, ready to kill the mother for her ivory tusk and leave the baby elephant an orphan.
Why should other photographers become involved in conservation?
The short answer is that if we don’t all do what we can, many of the places that are most treasured for their ability to deliver great photographs of beautiful things simply won’t exist or will no longer be able to support the animals, fauna, and flora that they are now known for. Whether absolutely remote or embedded in an urban landscape, open, healthy landscapes are vital to the wellbeing of this planet and to our fundamental humanity.
I think that anybody who is blessed to have the opportunity to visit and photograph these places has some level of responsibility to help ensure that they can exist as thriving ecosystems so that they will be around for future generations to enjoy. As one of our photographers mentioned, “conservation photography is what happens after the shutter has been released.” Lots of small things, even just appropriate captioning, can help move conservation efforts forward so there is no reason why not every photographer who practices nature photography can’t also weave some conservation measures into their work.
“Whether absolutely remote or embedded in an urban landscape, open, healthy landscapes are vital to the wellbeing of this planet and to our fundamental humanity.”
Have you taken many “ugly” photos? Why? Where? How were they used?
iLCP definitely uses “ugly” photos because they tell an important part of any story or project that we work on. Better said, they often reveal the key point of our work. So when they can be taken on a project, we absolutely insist that they be included in our image shoot lists. Indeed, the biggest challenge we often face is when we can’t get the “ugly” picture because a threat is imminent but not yet actual—like a road that is planned to be built through the middle of a virgin forest. How does one show visually how such a place might be impacted by the highway’s construction or by the traffic that will eventually run through it?
Susan Sontag once wrote, “Nobody ever discovered ugliness through photographs. But many, through photographs, have discovered beauty.” Any thoughts on this?
I disagree—sort of. Without a doubt, ugly pictures of ugly things are not going to be the path of discovery for any viewer because nobody will look at them. But beautiful pictures of ugly things, that is a whole other story. Whether you call it “horrible beauty” or “beautiful horrors,” I think these are often the most powerful images in conservation photography because they draw us in on a purely aesthetic level. We want to keep looking at them because they are so beautiful. But then all of a sudden, we understand what is really going on and that what we are looking at is really not beautiful at all. Indeed, those moments are when we discover just how ugly humans can be in our senseless actions that threaten our planet and the animals, plants, and people that inhabit it. Two masters of this technique are iLCP Senior Fellows Garth Lenz (in his work on the Canada tar sands) and Daniel Beltrá (in his work in the Gulf of Mexico after the Deepwater Horizon oil spill).
Many years ago, on assignment for Audubon magazine in East Africa, I photographed a dead rhino with its horns cut off. Audubon did not use the photo because it was too shocking and graphic. Any thoughts on images with shock value?
I am not surprised that, years ago, Audubon refused to run the image. I would hope that today things might be different. I think conservation groups, and especially those that have good magazines, are much more willing to run the shock value images. They realize that pretty pictures alone just don’t have the impact that is ultimately desired: to encourage viewers to act, donate, and actively support effective conservation programs.
In fact, as I have heard it, one of the reasons that iLCP was formed is that many of the Founding Fellows were frustrated by the well-known magazines’ refusal to run true, hard-hitting conservation stories with the images to match—as opposed to stories that discussed conservation issues in the text, but only ran the pretty pictures to accompany written narrative. As a collective body, they saw iLCP as being able to influence these softer photo-editing practices. And there has been a change in the industry since iLCP was founded, so I’d like to think that this is true!
What about involvement with conservation organizations? Thoughts? And how about sending your photos to congresspersons or senators to influence legislation?
I think photographers should absolutely take it upon themselves to send photographs to their elected representatives. If we send letters for this purpose, why not images as well? It is often noted that many places in peril are so remote that even if they lie in a legislator’s district, he or she may never have been there. So why not bring the reality of imperiled places in visual media to them? It can be an effective practice.
Nevertheless, I do believe that for real conservation gains to happen, it is probably a wise choice to align oneself with a conservation organization that is actively working on finding solutions to the issue in question. Most often, environmental and cultural threats are complex situations with multiple stakeholders vying for their individual and mutual interests. Having the weight of an established and focused organization in support of the project can make the desired outcomes much more likely.
Alison M. Jones is an award-winning professional photographer with an honorary Masters in Photography from Brooks Institute of Photography. She is a Fellow of the International League of Conservation Photographers; a member of The Explorers Club, The Society of Environmental Journalists, and The National Arts Club; and a former Board Director of the North American Nature Photography Association and Chair of its Awards Committee. Since 2007, Alison has been the Founding Director of No Water No Life® (NWNL), documenting African and North American watersheds. Also a published author and Fellow of the International League of Conservation Writers, she is now writing articles and books for NWNL. As a conservation photographer, Alison has gathered a library of photographs, interviews, and video footage during the 22 NWNL expeditions she has led. She is now using these materials to raise awareness of the vulnerability of fresh water resources and to create support for sustainable management solutions to protect watershed ecosystems. Her photographs have appeared in publications ranging from BBC Wildlife, O: The Oprah Magazine, Esquire, Gourmet, and Photographer’s Forum to books, annual reports, and calendars. Her nonprofit clients include Direct Relief, LightHawk, TechnoServe, The Mara Conservancy, AmeriCares, and Save the Children.
Photo credit: Alison M. Jones.
How and why did you get into conservation photography?
My vision of combining photography and conservation came from a fascination with nature, science, my early experiences in conservation, and lessons of history and indigenous cultures reflecting our ancient selves. No community has survived without a dependable source of pure water. When we muddy the well, we impede our own progress. Thus, I photograph to expose the destructive results of denial, greed, and “short term-ism” as I watch gains achieved by manipulating nature threaten our natural resources. Each one of us has the responsibility to stop those actions that muddy our planet so that our waters can run clear and freely for our own long-term benefits.
My interest in conservation photography began in 1985 when I connected with Africa’s open space. I experienced wildlife roaming in coordinated step with the Maasai, migratory birds, and the dramatic Rift Valley—the “Cradle of Humankind.” I became a professional photographer with my images of East Africa’s wildlife, but I didn’t know enough about species’ behavior patterns, predator/prey relationships, or the quality of light. So I returned to coastal Connecticut to study photography, focusing on busy marinas, sunsets behind lighthouses, and changing light mirrored by the water.
The African continent as a whole has been my photographic muse. I don’t think it’s possible to visit Africa for two decades and stay the same. I learned how many Western efforts to help Africa had only caused further problems. I learned that the African people, not Western NGOs, are the key to saving Africa’s heritage. Thus, I started photographing for East and West African NGOs fighting poverty and disease, threatened resources, and biodiversity. I lived in rural villages of Africa. I saw that a simple foot pump could allow a rural farmer to irrigate dry-season crops and triple his income.
Kenyan friends asked me to join in the establishment of Kenya’s Mara Conservancy—a community-based model of conservation in the Maasai Mara Game Reserve’s “Triangle,” where over 2 million animals migrate from Tanzania’s Serengeti Plains to the Mara River. Income from tourists witnessing this annual march of biodiversity supports 12 million Kenyans and Tanzanians. The Conservancy’s transparent management, serving Maasai landowners, is a model that many are now copying.
Photo credit: Alison M. Jones.
Co-piloting a Cessna over 2000 miles of Africa’s waterways for three seasons, I photographed Sub-Saharan Africa’s ubiquitous design of lush green ribbons of rivers and lake shores, strewn randomly over an otherwise dull brown continent. That low aerial perspective provided a great “a-ha!” moment. I said, in awe, “It’s so obvious! Where there’s no water, there’s no life.” I had the title for a project—I just didn’t know how it would take shape, or that it would take up over 8 years of my life. I only knew I wanted to document how water affects us and how we affect water.
I kept noticing our human footprint—watersheds being deforested and lakes disappearing. Lake Chad is one-twentieth of its 1970s size. Kenya has lost 50 percent of its forests in the last 25 years. Suffering faces I’ve photographed haunted me. I could no longer be a voyeur enjoying beauty while wilderness disappeared and people struggled.
What about involvement with conservation organizations?
The iLCP network of scientists, conservationists, and photographers was a great source of encouragement. I trusted that NWNL imagery could bridge the gaps between North American ecologists and nomadic goat herders, between British Columbia and an African village. Illustrating the threads that connect us can help protect the resources that sustain us.
NWNL has spent 8 years gathering over 100,000 still images and over 400 “Voices of the River” interviews during its 22 watershed expeditions. All of this material supports the theory that the water story is a people story and that, per Leonardo da Vinci, “Water is the driver of nature.” Three NWNL case-study watersheds are in North America (Columbia, Mississippi, and Raritan River Basins) and three are in northeastern Africa (Nile, Omo, and Mara River Basins). The diversity of these watersheds provides useful comparisons between degradation and management solutions in developed and developing worlds. The issues in these watersheds allow NWNL to fulfill its mission to raise upstream-downstream awareness of the vulnerability of our watersheds and to motivate global watershed stewardship.
What thoughts do you have about your approach to a theme or project you are photographing?
To begin a project like No Water No Life, allow enough time in the setup phase to define a mission and methodology, determine the most relevant regions to study and document, and form a team of advisors. You’ll also need to design a website and investigate 501c(3) status or umbrella fiscal sponsorship for the project. Don’t underestimate the value of collaboration. Partner with other conservation organizations working with similar goals. Throughout the process, be firm about the need for solutions but open-minded as to what they might be—and keep an ear to the ground for grassroots advocacy because that’s where conservation begins and is implemented.
I also suggest finding ways to show how your issues are linked to other struggles for justice, and constantly distribute imagery and information on your project to as many interested parties as possible—including elected officials!
“Mission creep” can easily occur with large projects like NWNL, so focus tightly and clarify your priorities based on data and criteria gained from research and interviews. Yet, be open-minded during expeditions and interviews—and stay aware of issues that at first seemed separate from your focus. For example, climate change and population growth seemed like “mission creep” in NWNL, but it became clear we couldn’t avoid those issues. Likewise, fracking hadn’t surfaced as a water-related issue when we began in 2007, but now it is a major issue affecting water quality and availability.
What kinds of images do you look for to support the NWNL mission?
For NWNL, I look for images that reflect threats to ecosystem health and water quality, as well as solutions and stewardship models to foster optimism. I like stand-alone images that tell a story (often including many elements in one photo), environmental portraits that convey the everyday activities of residents, and elements of surprise and shock—human fragility and vulnerability. I find that using a fish-eye lens can add a sense of universality to specific scenes or rivers. I also like images with a sense of place and a sense of concern, so the viewer can imagine being there.
How do you capture honest environmental portraits of people?
We are all people and we all know we need water. Thus, we all share the same concern—their concerns are NWNL concerns and vice versa. I want them to feel a sense of partnership with NWNL, so I figure out how to say “No Water No Life” in their language. Just saying our name explains my purpose.
I also look for ways to establish heartwarming connections (through laughter, games, and flattery), by joining in with them on jobs and play we all experience (cooking, hugging, and dancing), and through moods we all feel. I listen to people and photograph what they think is significant—whether or not I do—to show I respect their opinions. I ask people to act as if I am not there; I never tell them what to do.
I particularly like to get children to interact with water—to break barriers and to underline the point that we need to keep our rivers and water safe for future generations.
How do you use your NWNL images?
My photographs are printed in books, magazines, and pamphlets, as well as on bumper stickers. They are also used online (on our website, blogs, online magazine articles, e-mail newsletters, and social media) and in NWNL lectures to kids, adults, and seniors. We have collaborative quid pro quo sharing arrangements for images, contacts, maps, and research with NGOs we know and partner with.
“I like stand-alone images that tell a story, environmental portraits that convey the everyday activities of residents, and elements of surprise and shock.”
In exhibits worldwide, NWNL juxtaposes images of both beauty and degradation with environmental portraits of people, either impacted by lack of clean water or solving the situation. Hopefully our exhibit visitors leave realizing that only we the people can solve those problems. The NWNL images are usually accompanied by in-depth captions explaining hydrology, watershed science, and the fact that it’s our actions that impact the availability, quality, and usage of our fresh water resources.
Certain photographs have great shock value. Many years ago, on assignment for Audubon magazine in East Africa, I photographed a dead rhino with its horns cut off. Audubon did not use the photo because it was too shocking and graphic. Any thoughts?
An important challenge of conservation photography is to include images of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Always positive, Pete Seeger wrote, “The key to the future of the world is finding the optimistic stories and letting them be known.”
That said, I have taken more “ugly” photos than I would have liked. A difficult image must be compelling, it must have dramatic lighting and strong composition or color to hold the viewer’s interest long enough that the message sinks in before they turn away. Images of degradation must be as bold as possible. Often, contrasts of mood, color, subject matter, or scale work well. Pairs of images contrasting the pretty and the ugly create a balance and an effective contrast. That approach mimics life, where the good and the bad come together. We must confront the ugly scenes alongside the pretty scenes and learn to deal with the difficult realities we’d all rather ignore.
A photo of a repelling subject can have more impact than a pleasing nature photograph, yet its shock value needs to be presented wisely and the audience needs to be considered. Determining whether an image is too shocking or graphic depends on the viewers, not the creator of the image.
What’s your outlook on the future of conservation photography? Any words of advice?
Conservation photography will always be relevant, since no place or species is protected in perpetuity—especially as our climate changes and populations explode. To be a conservation photographer means to be determined and committed with a personality of intention, yet open-minded enough to interest as many folks possible. Resilience and calm is needed to weather the horrors that must be documented, and an inner stability is needed stay on keel and be proactive amidst scenes of doom and gloom. Conservation photographers must collaborate with colleagues and other partners to strengthen their resolve, their understanding of issues, and their outreach. We must be willing to share and to turn over our work to the next generation. We are on a quest for harmony between humankind and nature, which sometimes leaves me feeling like the Woman of La Mancha, tilting at windmills. Thankfully, iLCP supports its Fellows while creating a repository of what Susan Sontag calls “an ecology of images.” The successes of iLCP Fellows support my belief that stewardship is part of human nature.
Conservation offers a clarity and focus that motivates one’s photography since it demands more attention to subject matter and final images. One stretches to capture and share more than just beauty, great light, and interesting compositions. One’s skills improve when absorbed with a passion for creating the most impactful image possible. Conservation offers a fourth dimension to a photographer’s life—and once that’s discovered and your photographs matter, you are never the same.
“We must be willing to share and to turn over our work to the next generation.”
Bob Rozinski and Wendy Shattil
Bob and Wendy are among the rarest of species: full-time professional nature photographers. Their specialties include endangered wildlife and fragile habitats. They are both Fellows in the International League of Conservation Photographers and lead a limited number of photography trips, including “Conservation in Focus” workshops devoted to teaching people to tell conservation stories with a camera. Wendy and Bob have produced 15 books, including the new edition of Valley of the Dunes (Cloud Ridge, 2010), and their images appear in virtually all nature and conservation magazines, including National Wildlife, Audubon, Smithsonian, BBC Wildlife, Natural History, Ranger Rick, and National Geographic publications. Their awards and recognitions include the Philip Hyde Grant for Environmental Photography, the Environmental Stewardship Award from Denver Audubon, and the Outstanding Conservationist and Outstanding Business Partner of the Year Awards from the Colorado Wildlife Federation. The also won the NANPA Outstanding Service Award, induction into the NANPA Fellowship, and the Grand Prize in the Texas Valley Land Fund contest. Additionally, Wendy was the first woman to win the Grand Prize in the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition.
Photo credits: Wendy Shattil.
How did you become involved in photography and when did you become involved in conservation?
Wendy—We’ve both been involved in photography for many years and we started photographing together in 1980, but as a team we got involved in conservation before we knew it was conservation photography. We had a lot of interest in endangered species such as whooping cranes and spent a lot of time and effort to create images of those. We became involved formally in conservation photography in 1988 at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal, when we were hired by the Department of Justice and our images were used to make people aware of what on the Arsenal in terms of wild-life—and to make clear the value of the Arsenal as open space to the wildlife. Through our images, the Arsenal ultimately became a national wildlife refuge.
Bob—We basically changed the public perception of the Rocky Mountain Arsenal. Because of issues at the place (storing military nerve gas), it was relatively unknown to outsiders.
Wendy—A couple of years after photographing the Arsenal, I was awarded the Grand Prize in the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition. When I went to London for the award, the opportunity to talk with other photographers from all over the world made me see that we were all having a powerful influence through our images. So it continued to be clear that our purpose for photography should continue to be conservation.
“Through our images, the Arsenal ultimately became a national wildlife refuge.”
What distinguishes conservation photography from ordinary nature photography?
Bob—Conservation photography is photography with a purpose; you look at all aspects—the good, the bad, and the ugly. Most people who are photographing in the natural world are doing it for themselves. Conservation photography is for the enlightenment of others and not necessarily self-gratification. It also leads you to have a more photojournalistic approach—you look for nuances that you probably wouldn’t look for otherwise. So many people are interested in the megafauna. If it’s not an eagle, they pass it on by—but it might be a rodent or some grass or some soil situation, so you get a far broader perspective when you look at it in that regard.
Why should other photographers become involved in conservation?
Wendy—Any photographer at any level is capable of bringing about change and awareness about conservation issues. One does not have to be a National Geographic photographer to do so. On a local or specific basis, someone with the passion and the knowledge and the concern—and a camera—can make people aware to the point where change can take place.
“If you only present one side of the issue, it doesn’t make any sense or have any impact. If you balance the ugly with what it had been or could be, in terms of land degradation, it makes a lot more sense.”
Bob—The rocky mountain arsenal was an example of the good, the bad, and the ugly. We were not restricted in what we could photograph; we only had to follow safety regulations and not be in hazardous areas. If you only present one side of the issue, it doesn’t make any sense or have any impact. If you balance the ugly with what it had been or could be, in terms of land degradation, it makes a lot more sense.
Wendy—When we start a project, we evaluate the situation before going to the area and photographing. We try to spell out what the issues are and what sorts of things could illustrate the situation—the good, the bad, the ugly. It’s also important to be open to things that weren’t originally on our radar.
Care to share any tips and tricks?
Wendy—The more you photograph, the more comfortable you are with your camera—the more you see as your camera sees, the more natural that becomes. Sometimes you may miss the photo because you just didn’t have the technical expertise to do it. So photographing frequently and becoming familiar with what you’re doing and why you are doing it is very important.
Bob—One of the things I’ve really been enamored with is looking for viewpoints that are not the usual perspective. The most prominent of those viewpoints is aerial photography. Quite often, when we are dealing with the environment, I’ve found that the aerial views are very strong. People look at that aerial photo and say, “I didn’t know all that was going on—I didn’t know that was there.” From the ground, they probably wouldn’t.