What's the Shot and
Why Does it Matter?

I am not a social media content creator. I am a conservation and documentary photographer. My life—professionally, personally, and spiritually—revolves around protecting this planet and all of its inhabitants. My days are spent outdoors; when I am inside, I crave the exit. My work is a dedicated vigil to this magnificent creation of rock, water, and gas, intended to help others assume their roles as custodians of this special place we call home.

You can imagine, then, how in my pivot to full-time conservation photography, I have been blindsided by the enormous amount of time required of me on social media. It was so frightening that I turned on my heels and ran as far as I could. I didn't get far. Now, the truth has sunk in: my success hinges on the content I create, the strategies I pursue, and the relationships I build. Online.

That's a difficult pill to swallow. I'm a people person—tactile, warm, and genuinely interested in learning about others. I am committed to sharing the stories, both triumphant and tragic, that matter to us all.

A couple of days ago, I found myself writing a DM that mentioned my affinity for language; for its power to heal, inform, and shift perspectives. Words are valuable to me in a way they themselves fail to articulate. Oh, the irony! It is not lost on me: a fine-point pen and my Canon cameras are my fifth and sixth limbs. Why should I struggle to engage on these platforms when I was writing almost as soon as I could walk? Stringing sounds into sentences that linger on the mind was a skill I adopted early.

Given the weight I put into writing, shouldn't I feel comfortable here? To an extent, I do—when I am engaging with others. I derive immense perspective from reading about the discoveries and achievements of my peers. Those stories drive me…the inferno inside this body boils hotter and my activism oozes.

But then, it's my turn to post. Or rather, the algorithm says I must post, lest I be lost forever. I am told I cannot be heard, nor hired, without it. In an admission of overwhelm, I have come to feel dehumanised by a digital ether that insists I bend to its will or struggle to earn a living doing what the world needs.

Putting Reflection into Practice

I've looked for the root of this social media anathema with brutal honesty. Is it an issue of control? An aversion to being 'bent over a barrel' by an invisible force? Or is it fear—the classic imposter syndrome whispering that my work isn't good enough? The answers didn't add up until recently, when the truth struck so hard, I couldn't help but weep. Nearly inconsolably.

Gone are the days of face-to-face word of mouth. In its place I find abbreviated lingo and timetables dictating the 'best' hour of the day to talk about a planet in crisis. Beyond the algorithms, I realised I was struggling to hold onto my identity. I felt a deep, intense disconnection. I had managed to keep the digital invasion at bay for so long that I had ousted myself from reality.

I've always said we should have stopped at microwaves.

In the time between the microwave and AI, the world changed so much that my rejection of it has sparked a crisis of identity. I thrive on phone calls and still send greeting cards… the paper kind. I live in a world that accommodates the need for physical community.

Today, communities are built online. That could have been a good thing were it not for the fact these communities are sustained only because the algorithms require our constant attention, gobbling up every syllable and interaction.

I am told that to find collaborations, I must be strategic. I must align myself with potential clients. While that is a rule of business, it feels duplicitous online. There is something about speaking face-to-face—reading body language and knowing a smile is genuine—that makes sharing one's skills feel natural.

Which leads to the greatest hurdle: self-promotion. It makes me shudder. I am always the first to urge others to promote themselves, yet doing it myself feels disingenuous. I fear my warmth and genuine desire to help conservation organisations won't be felt or understood through a screen. Am I even allowed to feel this way without being trolled?

I stand at a crossroads. Don't engage and reap no rewards, or engage and accept a life of arms-length connection. As I type this, I hope for a third way: that I can inject a perfect modicum of 'humanness' into this digital world.

Tomorrow's mantra will be this:

I do not serve the machine. I use the machine to serve Earth.

Fingers crossed this might just help put food on the table.

But still… don't you wish we'd stopped at microwaves?

And so, it begins.

With my heart a veritable kaleidoscope of emotions—hope, excitement, a touch of trepidation, and an overwhelming sense of purpose—I launch this space into the digital ether. Much like this exquisite infant François' Langur all wide-eyed with wonder, brightly dressed in its newborn colours and nascent strength, this blog is a bold and vibrant inaugural step! A tender shoot pushing through the soil? Perhaps. But it's certainly rooted in a deep reverence for, and profound commitment to, our natural world. After many years of exploration and activism in conservation and sustainability, this is a declaration of life, and homage to this planet that breathes life into us all.

The Journeys We Will Take

In a world defined by ever-shifting dynamics, we cannot ignore the pain and hardship that often shadow the conservation movement. The realities of a natural world and all of its inhabitants under threat are heavy, and the uncertainty of the future is something we will face here with truth and honesty.

As an advocate of planetary stewardship, I am intent on creating a space that is a home for understanding the many different ways we connect with our world and each other. As we move forward, the journeys I hope to take together will be as varied as the wild itself.

Some days, I will invite you into moments of respite and wonder, a visual sanctuary, if you will, to showcase the incredible species and landscapes that still thrive. These stories are meant to offer moments of calm and creativity, of breathtaking awe that fills the soul. They will be the gentle reminders of the beauty we are fighting for. From that place of wonder, we will often pivot toward direction and thought, exploring the complex topics that challenge our perspectives and get us thinking critically about our role in the ecosystem — locally and globally.

Alas we are animals, and our evolved sentience is forged from a need to connect. So our path will also lead us to places of connection, where I'll introduce you to the human side of these movements — from the courageous people on the front lines of wildlife conservation and humanitarian relief, to the local artisans hellbent on resourcefulness and our elders who graciously share their indigenous knowledge. Collectively, their stories will have you feeling deeply, and naturally this brings us face-to-face with the hard realities of modern conservation; we'll stare down the barrel of gritty work, the painful setbacks, and the unfiltered truth of environmental change without looking away. Ultimately, all of these paths converge in advocacy — of really doing our bit — experiencing the privilege of contributing to a future that is bright and bold; safe and secure; sustainable.

Join the Conversation

I believe deeply in the power of an image. When words fail to move us, that single photograph can. To that end, images will be our guide — granting us moments of reflection and, more importantly, a sense of shared direction.

Whether you are here for the awe of a rare jungle species, to feel calmed by the deep indigos of our oceans or to understand the heavy lifting of conservation activism, I am so grateful to have you here. Let's explore this wild, uncertain, and beautiful world together.

From this moment forward we begin the most important work of all: Shifting Perspectives. Not just on how we see the world, but on how we choose to live within it.

Welcome to the first chapter.