Elephants
In the Presence of Giants
Photographing elephants has never been about capturing the perfect shot, it’s about presence and sharing a moment in time. Standing near these giants, whether in the emerald hills of Kenya’s Samburu, the dry open plains of South Africa, or the misty forests of northern Thailand, I’ve always felt something ancient stir. A sense that I was in the company of something wiser, more patient and profoundly powerful.
My first deep encounter was in Samburu, in Kenya’s Great Rift Valley land of rolling hills, red earth, and scattered groves of acacia. The Ewaso Ng’iro River winds its way through this landscape like a lifeline, drawing elephants down from the high ridges. I watched as a matriarch guided her family across the grassy slopes and into a grove where palms whispered in the wind. A young calf stumbled behind her, ears flapping, still learning the rhythm of the land. I crouched low, camera steady, heart racing. There was no need to rush. The elephants moved with grace each step deliberate, each glance a reminder of their deep knowing.
In South Africa, by contrast, I worked in much drier terrain vast reserves where the land stretched wide under a relentless sun. There, elephants emerged from dusty hills, their skin caked with mud. I photographed them wading through shallow rivers, dust bathing under marula trees, or standing quietly among stones and thornbush. The bulls moved alone, self-assured, while family groups stayed tightly bound, their trunks gently brushing one another in silent conversation. The matriarch always led. She knew the waterholes.
Thailand offered a different kind of encounter. Here, elephants have lived alongside humans for centuries, often in sorrowful roles used for labor, display, and war. At a sanctuary nestled in the forested hills I photographed a different existence.
The more I photographed elephants, the more I realized my work wasn’t just about beauty it was about bearing witness. These beings are still here, still walking the paths of their ancestors, even as those paths vanish beneath roads, fences, and farms.
Elephants mourn their dead. They comfort their young. They form bonds, grieve, remember, and endure. What they need from us is not awe or pity but space. Space to move. To live. To raise their young without fear.
