It was 2006, and it had been several years since I had last visited Buenos Aires, so it was good to venture out and explore the place. Wandering along the docks of Puerto Madero, and enjoying the music and food of this fascinating district, I spotted a distinctive and elegant structure which I didn’t recognise. On closer inspection, I discovered that it was a rotating pedestrian bridge named El Puente de La Mujer or Woman’s Bridge. Now, I had made the rookie mistake of keeping a polarising filter on my camera lens most of the time which had the effect of creating very dark and uneven skies in a lot of my photos. However, in this close-up of the bridge’s central steel needle, the contrast between dark and light is dramatic to say the least, but which I think works.
We had made a very early start to the day, it was well before sunrise, for our journey to some fields near Hpa An in Myanmar. Traipsing across the fields, surrounded by the irregularity of the karst landscape, we soon reached our objective where we saw a handful of women hand-cutting the crops. Here, an older woman greeted us with a smile, perhaps somewhat surprised that we wanted to take photographs of her and her co-workers.
A unique view of the dead, desiccated trees of Deadvlei in Namibia which I photographed in August 2015.
“Deadvlei” from the English word “dead” and the Afrikaans word “vlei” for marsh. It was once an area fed by the Tsauchab River where trees and other plants flourished. Perhaps 600-700 years ago, maybe 900 years ago, the changing climate and encroaching sand dunes conspired to cut-off the water supply, killing-off the trees and most of the plants.
Today, visitors are greeted by an eerie but spectacular sight. Illuminated by the brilliant blue skies, a white clay pan is surrounded by rust-coloured sand dunes which are reputed to be some of the highest in the world at over 1,312 feet (400 metres). And the trees; dead, desiccated, and scorched black by the sun. Truly a forest of the dead.
In the Omo Valley, Ethiopia. Towards sunset, the goat herders of the Kara tribe were bringing their goats back to the village. With the red of the sunlight filtering through the dust, I jumped straight in with my camera, sometimes through thorns on my hands and knees, but was fortunate to have captured some beautiful scenes.