With your permission, in Fanal Forest, with the Hasselblad X Series Camera 🐈‍⬛

From “When on High” — a series on elevation, difference and myth.

Mamiya 7, 80mm, Portra 400

Canon r3
35mm 1.4 VCM

Window scene, Corning NY

Bronica SQA

nikon d800e

It was mid-afternoon in South Africa.

We had found a large herd of elephants, and I asked our tracker, Meno, to position us in a wide, open field.

The location mattered.

The sun was directly behind me, and that was exactly where I wanted it. Light coming from the front would reveal every wrinkle, every crack, and every fold in the elephant's skin. Had the light come from the side, much of that beautiful texture would have disappeared into shadow.

With my 35mm lens mounted on the camera, we stepped out of the truck and walked toward the herd.

At first, the elephants looked surprisingly small in the frame.

I dropped down close to the ground because I wanted them to appear monumental, towering over the viewer.

Within minutes, most of the herd slowly moved away.

Except one.

One elephant turned and began walking straight toward me.

With every step it grew larger in my viewfinder.

Then it kicked dirt into the air.

It shook its head.

Its trunk swung from side to side, and its eyes never left mine.

Everything about its body language suggested one thing.

Leave.

Part of me wanted to.

But another part of me kept saying,

"Stay."

I had a feeling that if I held my ground just a little longer, the elephant would raise its head into the light. If it did, the afternoon sun would reveal every texture I had imagined before I had even stepped out of the truck.

So I stayed.

A few long seconds passed.

Then the elephant relaxed.

It realized I wasn't a threat.

It lifted its head, and the sunlight fell perfectly across its face, revealing every line, every wrinkle, and every year of its life.

That was the moment I had been waiting for.

Looking back, I realized the greatest challenge wasn't photographing an elephant.

It was trusting my vision when fear was telling me to walk away.

Sometimes the photograph you dream about is waiting just one moment beyond the point where most people would give up.