The Daily Edit – The Mirror Wall: Ben Ditto


Patagonia Spring Journal

Photographer: Ben Ditto
Read the story here

I caught up with Ben Ditto after Patagonia featured his work in the Spring 24 Journal, he was currently in the center of Nevada at a little cliff he’d been climbing on for a few years – and was kind enough to share a few thoughts- the best office is a mobile one.

You have a category on your site called, The Wild Bunch, which looks like a good time. Who are these fellows and how did this trusted merry band come to life?
Ben: Myself, Nico Favresse,  his brother Olivier, and Sean Villanueva O’Driscoll were dubbed by Captain Bob Shepton before our 2010 Greenland big wall and sailing adventure for which we won the Piolets d’Or. Bob must have seen some early videos from Nico and Sean such as the ‘Power of Jam‘ and ‘Free South Africa ‘in which there was a lot of music and light-hearted antics all while sending the gnar.

Previous to that trip we had been climbing together for years, initially meeting Sean while staying at Miguel’s Pizza at the Red River Gorge in the early 2000’s.  Visitors can see an old newspaper clipping on the wall where I’m walking a slack-line, and Sean is in the background.

Iceland has some of the best public playgrounds for Serious training for Sean (L) and Nico (R)

You recently were on a team that headed to Greenland, the objective was a 4,000 ft slab of granite: The Mirror Wall – how did that come about and what made you say yes to this ambitious trip?
Well, this was to be our third trip together sailing in Greenland and climbing big walls, so when the offer arose it was hard to say no to. Again, we have Bob Shepton to thank for instigating the 2023 trip to Greenland. Bob, in his 80s, has long since sold his sailboat, the Dodo’s Delight, but he’s not out of the adventure game yet. Turns out Bob had met a young British skipper named Mike Brooks
who owns the steel sailboat, Cornelia. Mike is a keen adventurer and offered to take our group of climbers to the Arctic.  After a few phone calls daring each other to go, we decided to try to climb the mirror wall.  

I stay in touch with Nico and Sean and all their exploits but it’s been years since I’ve done an expedition with them. However, I wasn’t too surprised to get the call to join them as the photographer on the trip. It does take a special sort of appreciation for adventure, climbing, sailing, and hardship.  It was tricky deciding whether or not to join this expedition, but ultimately my summer was free and I was psyched to go.  

Since our other expeditions, my work and life have taken on a different form.  For most of my 20’s and 30’s I was constantly on the move, now I’m usually staying closer to home.  Part of me thinks that if I’d had other work during that same time, I might’ve missed out on all the good fun we had in Scoresby Sound.  

Previous expeditions to Mirror Wall used helicopters for the approach, you guys green-pointed instead. This round-up isn’t for the faint of heart.

  • 7 days of prepping the boat in Scotland
  • 16 days of Sailing and 5 days waiting on a storm in the Faroe Islands, then another 14 days in Iceland waiting for the ice pack to clear.
  • 10 days of strenuous hiking, and 9 days of challenging climbing
  • How much pre-prep goes into a trip like this? (both physical and mental) 

Ha ha yes, the stats are pretty dizzying, especially when you consider we went through all that to climb approximately 1/2 of a big wall FA.  I lost track along the way but there must have been over 30 glacial river crossings to add to the list.  We all stay in good climbing shape, covering all the bases of hiking and physical strength you need to do an expedition like this.  But there’s a lot of it you can’t train for. The things that take a beating are your feet from the jagged glacial surface and your hips from wearing backpacks and harnesses.  A non-climber would probably wonder why to bother going to these difficult-to-access places; let alone humanly powered. Packing three months of food and climbing equipment for seven people is no small task. We have Nico to thank for accomplishing that task. We usually share a few spreadsheets and take care of finances on TriCount.

Cornelia and the lads sailed from Scotland in June and picked me up along the North Coast of Iceland, before continuing North to Scorseby Sound.  For our team, part of the experience is overcoming uncertainty and being in the moment that sailing provides.  We never knew if the pack ice would provide passage until we pushed into it.  Similarly, we didn’t know what the Mirror Wall would yield until we started climbing.

Sean at the helm while crossing Denmark Straight among the first icebergs of the trip.

I’m forever impressed with the athletes who mastermind these missions – however, the photographers are equally as impressive. You’re on a dual track – athlete and creative, how hard is that to manage?
I think everyone’s career is balanced with everything else that’s happening. I’m not suggesting that being a climbing athlete is the same as being a parent, for example, but similarly, I have to juggle a few priorities.  

I find myself operating in distinct modes. I’m either a photographer or a climber on any given day, but I rarely mix the two unless work requires it.  You know, as photographers were constantly multitasking to solve problems and it’s nice to be able to simplify and just go climbing now and again.  

 What was it like to photograph the “featureless, shield of granite?” for the first time – what was running through your mind?
Approaching the wall I found it impossible to avert my gaze.  It was like a puzzle to solve:  where is the line we will climb? Where are the cracks in the mirror?!

As a climber, I have a deep sense of appreciation for climbing at the highest levels.  Watching Sean pour everything into this line on the mirror wall was pretty much the greatest show on earth, and I was the only one who could see it.  The photographs (and footage) are my way of sharing this performance with the world.  

How much camera gear did you carry and was it hard to shoot in the frigid conditions, any gear failures, this area is known as the “Arctic El Cap”
On the boat, I took two camera bodies, two drones, a bunch of batteries, hard drives and cards. But for the actual load carrying and big wall ascent, I had to pair everything down to one camera 2 lenses, and one drone.

It pains me to say it, but I had a problem with my DJI drone while we were up on the wall.  Due to our remote and un-connected location, I couldn’t log into my account and my drone would only fly a couple hundred feet away from me at any time.  It was a pretty frustrating feeling because I had tried to find a workaround for the DJI log-in issue and ultimately couldn’t find anything that would work. 

Can you tell us the average temps?
We were on land most of August and sometimes on the load carries it would be very warm, which was good because of all the water crossings.  It seemed impossible we’d see a polar bear in those temperatures.  ( we didn’t see any).  

The wall faces North and only gets a couple of hours of sun each day, which can feel pretty nice.  However, in the shade average temps hovered just below freezing most of the time.  

Looking back on the trip now, what comes up for you?
On an expedition like that, there are innumerable challenges we’re forced to face each day.  However, with time, most of that stuff fades into the background and I’m left feeling lucky to experience such an incredibly wild place with an amazing group of characters.  

How long have you lived in Bishop and how has that influenced your photography?
I moved to Bishop in 2010 from SLC. Ultimately, I chose to live close to the mountains rather than close to work or clients.  I still travel for work, it just takes a half day longer to get to an international airport.  

However, The Eastern Sierra is a desirable place for productions of all sorts and we see everything from commercials to feature films shot nearby.  For those shoots, my work has transitioned into location management, but I often wear several other hats.  It’s always appreciated when a producer understands the value a local can bring when working in a faraway place.  

How long have you been working on the Great Basin project?
While studying photojournalism at the University of Utah in the early 2000’s I became aware of ranchers in the Great Basin who were fighting against the SNWA ( southern Nevada water authority) to keep their water rights secure from exportation to Vegas. 

This story is still unfolding.

What excited you about studio photography? It’s the antithesis of raw nature.
In college, I assisted a product photographer (shout out to Butch Adams!) where I learned to love lighting portraits and products.  Our property in Bishop includes a commercial office building where I keep my studio. It’s great to have a place where I can make a big mess and then leave it for the night without anyone caring.

As a yearbook photographer in High School, I learned that a camera was my ticket to freedom.  With a photo assignment in my pocket, I could wander the halls, leave school early, and generally be on my program. Climbing is also known as ’the freedom of the hills’ so really it’s a perfect combo for me.  


The Daily Edit – Sofia Aldinio – San Jose de Gracia

An aerial view of San Jose de Gracia – a community nestled in the middle of the Pacific coast of Baja California, Mexico, July, 2021. The community claims that it was founded 200 years ago, but today there are only 21 members left living in the community. As with many other small communities, water is the reason why they were able to settle and live in their surroundings. However the rainy season has shifted, leaving their community without a waterfall flowing off the canyon as one used to.
An archival photo lies on an old table at Chancha’s house in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, January 17th, 2021. The town was founded almost 200 years ago. With only 12 people left living in the community, and no younger up and coming generation, the community is at risk of disappearing, and along with it, their collective memory and tradition.
Juana sits across from her house in the center of the town, San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, February 2022. It was just recently that the community finally had internet during the daylight hours. The community now uses the central palapa to gather and use the internet.
All the young families migrated away from the community leaving empty classrooms and abandoned houses, San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021. The future of the younger generation is uncertain, pushing them to migrate to other cities, and even countries, finding new ways of life.
A reflection of Enrique’s hand, San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, February 2022. Enrique, 38, moved to the community two years ago with the hope to start a small clinic. His dad was born and raised in the community and is now teaching him about all the medicinal plants in the area.
Andrea Murillo, Irma Murillo and Norma Murillo (from left to right) share a kitchen to prepare a meal in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021. The three of them were born and raised in the community, but only Norma still lives there. Norma’s daughter migrated for better income opportunities to the closest active community almost two hours away from San Jose de Gracia. While we sit and share a meal, they recount stories of how they used to make dresses, dance and always have big shared meals with the community.
Rumaldo harvested a pumpkin in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, January 2022. He is the only one left in the community that dedicates most of his time to cultivate and harvest foods like they used to do in the past. He was born and raised in the community, but he is hoping to move to his own ranch in the near future.
Enrique holds a bunch of Ruda, the slang for this wild herb that grows in the area of San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, January, 2022. The plant was well used in the community to cure ear infections and for pesticide.
Garambullo can be found in the area of San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021. This sweet and small fruit, red or purple in color can be eaten or used for medicinal purposes.
Andrea Murillo, Irma Murillo and Norma Murillo share a kitchen to prepare a meal in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021. The three of them were born and raised in the community, but only Norma still lives there. Norma’s daughter migrated for better income opportunities to the closest active community almost two hours away from San Jose de Gracia.
Crecencia was born, raised and had her own children in the community that once was her home, San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021. She moved away from the community to raise her own children, but in the Covid-19 pandemic she recently moved back to the community. Her knowledge for the area, especially the herbs and plants is irreplaceable. She wonders what will happen to the place once she dies and there is no younger generation to pass the land along to.
The kids cemetery in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, January, 2021. The small community has at least four different cemeteries generationally identified. For vulnerable communities like this one, the risk to their members is the decreasing ability to sustain a living off the land as climate change continues to impress what seems like irreversible change in Baja California, Mexico.
A portrait of Miguel Murillo, in the land where he was born and still lives, San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, January, 2021. Miguel is leading the harvest of the mango crop, weaving old techniques in with his hope that mango production will revive the community by attracting more people.
Juana keeps warm in her house in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, February 2022. Juana is the oldest of 11 brothers and sisters. She was born and raised in the community. “It was never this cold in the winter,” she said. The community have all been claiming the unusual temperatures that they have had.
An abandoned house in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021. The population of San Jose de Gracia has been decreasing for the last few decades. A recent census shows how in the past 15 years it has lost 51 members of the community resulting in no younger generation to carry forward the traditions. Many houses have been abandoned, left to deteriorate into the landscape.
Ornaments are placed in a rock crack in the mountain next to the canyon in San Jose de Gracia, Baja California, Mexico, July 2021.

Photographer: Sofia Aldinio

Heidi: How did you learn about this community and the impacts of climate change on this once-thriving area?
Sofia: In 2020 while traveling through Baja California, Mexico with my family in our 1978 Mercedes Fire Truck. On New Year’s Day, we decided to commit to a 6+ hour dirt road to chase some waves. It was out there. We had never been so remote with the van. We were only 7 km away from the town, right at sunset, we were stoked and relieved that we were almost there, when we felt a huge pull in the van and we saw our back wheel driver side wheels sliding off the axle. We were then stuck for 3 days, on the side of the dirt road.

The local mechanics tried everything to avoid a four-hour drive by truck to the closest town to help us move the van. They finally worked their magic and we moved the van into town. We were stranded on the oceanfront and surf paradise for over six weeks.

In my time there, I was so curious about the area. In just a few days we met so many locals. At this time, I was already developing a story about the small fisherman communities and their struggles to sustain a living. On one of my daily trips to the beach, I met this one American woman who shared with me that I had to visit a community located 2 hours away. She then described it as something you will never find in Baja. I was immediately so curious and before you knew it I was driving with her to the community to spend an entire day out there. I was hooked. As soon as I got there it felt to me that I was witnessing the past in the present moment. I fell in love with the slow pace and the old tales you could feel hanging in the air. It was a sense that these are the last keepers of this community.
Most of my work focuses on climate impacts and I was already reporting on the fishing community and how they were being impacted by the changes in the weather patterns and climate change, I immediately started questioning how the canyon community was affected. I then learned about the lack of rain, the unpredictable weather changes, how this is affecting the existing crops, and how the one and most important life source, water, has been significantly decreasing over the years.

Despite the unforgiving landscape and harsh living conditions – you found pockets of hope and resilience – when did that begin to unfold?
Since my early 20’s I have been always roaming around in and out of small villages in Latin America. It really didn’t take long for me to discover the joy that there is in simply living in a community surrounded by nature. The joy comes from just feeling that nature provides everything you need. Many times I have encountered travelers or outsiders thinking that these communities are poor, the truth is that they don’t have much, but also they are content as they are. I don’t want to sound naive, I am aware that there is a lot of poverty and in many cases, people there do desire more and they end up choosing another way of life. It’s complicated. Today fewer people choose to live in this way, and most refuse it. But there is still a small portion of close communities that do enjoy it, and they do want to preserve their heritage. That’s what I found in San Jose de Gracia.

In the San Jose de Gracia community, the land has provided for them, daily. They also have a long relationship with it. They are part of it. Most of the people were born there and still live there to this day. The memories are everywhere, and I found this created so much joy in them. It goes full circle. The land provides and they will become a part of it, no matter what, and I call this resilience.

When did the photo project begin?
I have always been intrigued by slow-paced stories. The stories that are not often “dramatic”. Stories that can speak of daily life with ordinary people. I think there is so much to learn from them. The idea of photographing someone in a remote location who is simply living sounds extraordinary to me. Eugene Richards once said “People’s lives are revolutionary in little ways.” I love this. I love ordinary moments, just a detail that we can all relate to.

So, going back to the question, I think this photo project began even before I went to the community. When we lost our van wheels and were stranded, I just knew everything was happening for a reason. And then I heard about San Jose de Gracia and I just knew that was why I was there.

How did you approach storytelling within a community of just 21 people?
I often approach any story, assignment, or project the same way. I never make a plan. I like the feeling of seeing where the story and the photographs take me. I might walk into the story with an idea of how I wanted to approach this kind of work, but then the work starts showing me it’s way, and dictating how it should be displayed and photographed. There was one thing I knew, that I wanted to be collaborative. I wanted to provide the community a space to tell their story.

When I decided to focus on the intersection between climate and cultural heritage I immediately knew it would be beautiful to ask community members if they wanted to draw places in the community that have changed over time. On one of my trips I brought with me paper and a lot of pencils and what they drew was so beautiful. I was able to see into their past. They started drawing their memories. So what started with just photographs, ended up with archival materials, drawings, and photographs. Patience and time are key in projects like this. I think it is important to challenge the conventional way. When we let the people that we are photographing take part in it, something magical happens, a new depth is created.

Congratulations on your Pulitzer Center’s Eyewitness Photojournalism Grant – was that always a goal for this work?
When you spend several years working on a project, you need financial and community support. What I liked the most about the Pulitzer Center was the opportunity to be part of a community of storytellers and reporters. I was excited about the opportunity to share my work through their teaching programs. Over the past years, I have had some opportunities to share my work with students learning about climate change and Mexico here in the USA, which was so rewarding. It also gave me the chance to connect with other storytellers working on climate change stories.

How will this work evolve?
It is constantly evolving. It’s like every relationship.

Sometimes my mind works like a filmmaker. I am not your classic photographer who will come back with this one frame that encapsulates everything in one photograph. I do very much love this idea of a photo story. This series of photographs can compose a story. It is my favorite thing. I am obsessed with it. One image will reveal the next and so on. I also love audio. Today I am working on putting together a multimedia piece to combine the illustrations, photographs, audio, and a little bit of video. I like to experiment in my work. And I think in some cases photos are just not enough. I also like the idea of reaching a different audience by creating multimedia pieces.

How does memory and cultural preservation vs erasure come to life in this work for you?
To me, it comes to life when people experience the work and can walk away asking themselves what would it mean to keep losing places and communities like San Jose de Gracia. The purpose of the work is not trying to answer any questions, it is trying to ask them. Behind the purpose of this work is the question that has driven me forward.

Creating a multimedia exhibit where people can experience the tension of preservation and erasure through the real-time experience of San Jose de Gracia has always been my goal. A place where you can feel in real time – these memories fading, traditions being washed away, and all that is left is their land while at the same time witnessing the few struggling to keep living in their way.

I hope it inspires US audiences to view migration as a shared challenge and instills a desire to live more sustainable lifestyles and preserve wild lands, sacred traditions, and cultural heritage.

How has being a mother, a wife, and living a determined and considered life impacted your work?
Being a mother has been an extremely beautiful, and challenging journey. Especially because I decided to be a full-time freelance visual journalist at the same time, I became a mother. This was extremely painful because I wanted to be in the field for infinite hours. I have such a big pull for this work, but I couldn’t leave my kids behind. Sometimes I brought them with me. I did anything I could to keep working and being a present mother. It took everything out of me. I got burned out. I was up working most of the night and then up with the kids. It took a big hit in my relationship. I knew I didn’t have the luxury of time. So I told myself I needed to become good, really fast. I needed to be able to get the shot super fast. I trained myself to be very efficient in the field. I am not sure if I was always successful, but I know that when I’m shooting I’m working super hard to capture the right shots, not just a lot of shots.

The biggest way motherhood has impacted my work is that when I’m photographing someone, I am always aware that this person has a mother or children. Before photographing a person in a harsh situation, I always ask if it is worth it and how this photograph is going to benefit them. The way I feel and see photography today is not the same as it used to be before having kids. I think it is ok to challenge photography in this way. I love seeing all the new approaches by photographers to talk about migration, racism, climate change, and other topics.

During covid you took your kids traveling – nature was the classroom – tell us more about that.
My favorite memory was a trip we did in the Green River where we decided to follow the John Wesley Powell journey and the pioneers. It was so much fun. We bought a book and learned about their journey, went to the museum, and took the kids on some multi-day kayak trips in the Green River learning about their journey and what it looked like to that trip back to them. It’s my favorite memory from that time. I still dream about paddling more sections of the Green River with them!

The Daily Edit – Karabo Mooki

Photographer: Karabo Mooki

Heidi: How did the Black women’s Skateboarding project evolve – did you notice they were a force but underrepresented?
Karabo: Skateboarding isn’t always embraced by Black communities, and my own experiences having limited proximity to Black role models in skateboarding have had a massive impact on my feelings toward the sport and the culture of skateboarding. It’s made me wonder what skateboarding means to Black women immersing themselves in this world. What does it mean to take up space in a predominantly white male sport? I became aware of the increasing presence of Black women in skateboarding and then developed organic relationships with the community.

Understanding that South Africa has a tumultuous history with gender-based violence; the right to occupy public space is not equally shared amongst genders. Women are often met with harassment, micro-aggressions, and other threats that make them feel unsafe and unwelcome in public spaces. Crews of skateboarders such as the “Island Gals” and “Spectrum” are recreating the narrative by actively organizing and occupying spaces that many have previously felt uncomfortable being in. 

Their passion for skateboarding and community transcends through each individual and there is an undeniable sense of dedication to skateboarding and pushing for greater representation within the sport.

The collective work of Black women in skateboarding has been impossible to ignore, and as a documentarian, I found myself in the fortunate position of working alongside these dominant forces to help share their message globally.

How did you approach the female skateboarders, how did you explain your intentions to them?
As a documentarian, it is important for me to learn about the experiences of the community I am working with and to earn their trust. I invested time in understanding the community’s goals and spotlighting what they have overcome to realize their accomplishments.

I intend to create awareness and celebrate the importance of the social-political work perpetuated by these young freedom fighters. Many marginalized communities in post-apartheid South Africa are still carrying the weight of systematic oppression and my duty as a photographer is to let the truth be told and realized by local and global audiences.

Tell us how your style as a photographer evolved and how you got your start.
My passion for photography is rooted in my interest in human connectivity, history, and culture. I’ve been in a photographic dialogue most of my life, and the focus of my photography has developed from documenting counterculture to placing a more acute interest in political and cultural themes. Over time, I realized the weight of institutionalized colonialism that I was carrying and how systems of oppression had created doubt in my self-worth. This is why it is so important for me to highlight and celebrate Black culture in all its glory. 

What were your influences then and now?
Not so much what, but who – Peter Magubane, Ernest Cole, Dawoud Bey, and Joseph Rodriguez have been great storytellers I have sought inspiration from. Documentarians whose work upheld a deep sense of integrity and truth. They sought to tell stories of communities close to them and the social-political work they achieved is everything I aspire to in my work.

How did the Freedom Charter inform the culture in Soweto and your work?
As I mentioned earlier, Peter Magubane and Ernest Cole are prominent South African photographers and freedom fighters who taught me the importance of adopting a revolutionary mindset.

I learned that photography is a powerful tool to decolonize my mind and that of the communities I began working with. Photography has taught me so much, especially the importance of searching and sharing the truth of my people’s stories. I focused on stories that invite viewers to engage with political and social issues. 

Photography has allowed me to find my place amongst constant change and given me a voice to communicate and connect through this form of dialogue. The process has taught me to be intentional with my approach to photography and value the connections I’ve made with people along the way.

“As part of every encounter, Bey gave each person a small black-and-white Polaroid print for themselves as a way of reciprocating and returning something to the people who had allowed him to make their portrait” What practices do you have in any of your portraits encounters?
As an independent photographer, embarking on personal projects requires a lot of investment. I pour everything into realizing photo stories, but it’s not easy. Production costs are difficult to cover independently but as time goes on and my investments become greater, I find that simultaneously the relationships created are strengthened. My gratitude for the time and trust is expressed by upholding the integrity of the communities I work with. When I can afford to, I print out images on archival paper for the people I have worked with.

Ernest Cole’s House of Bondage was six years in the making. Each chapter represents life under apartheid, illustrating segregation’s impact on housing, education, employment, childcare, medical care, and daily life – which images are the most memorable to you and why?
The image that is engraved in my mind is the image of a schoolboy who squats on his haunches in an overcrowded segregated classroom, beads of sweat streaming down his face as he intently grips a pencil and a notepad in his small hands, following along with the teacher’s lesson. Ernest Cole provided audiences outside of South Africa with their first visceral view of apartheid, his work draws viewers into the beauty of this quiet act of defiance, this small moment of creation, which Cole ensured would one day be seen. Cole’s work captured my people’s struggles, and his photography’s message lives on as historical moments in the liberation of Black communities.

What parallels exist between your skateboarding work and the AfroPunk scene images from your Dogg Pound Days.
The AfroPunk skateboarding world brought together an unlikely group of Black and white youth, crossing a divide entrenched by Apartheid.

The makeshift independence of DIY culture is a crucial component of punk, where everything is self-constructed, from the experimental music and performances that take place in unconventional—and, as with skateboarding, sometimes unauthorized—locations, to crews building their ramps and filming skate sessions. My images capture the energy of the punk/skateboarding scene—the freedom in its expressions of rage, the power that comes with asserting one’s own identity, and the culture’s deep camaraderie.


Afro-punk is forever
Jeanné has become known as a pioneer in South Africa for Black women in skateboarding. Seen cruising the streets of Johannesburg central business district, she defies style through her visual expression of self on the board and in her unconventional approach to fashion. Her punk attitude glows on and off of her skateboard, inspiring many others to shape their own identities as Black women in skateboarding.
Island Gals
Without the help of sponsors or any organisations Thato and Melissa have committed a life to skateboarding and conducting workshops for Black women interested in taking up the sport, sharing equipment and boards until they’re completely worn out. Their love for their community outweighs the cost of skateboarding.
In crust we trust
Mmabatho demonstrates what it takes to learn at her local park, where resources are few and far between, construction materials are subpar and the crumbling infrastructure to develop ones own skill level is the only place where she can access close to home to get her daily fix on the board.
Thabiso Mashiyakgomo makes it count, charging down the infamous “Siemens Bank” spot with a tail drop of a first for women in South African skateboarding. Her strength of will and progression of skill is a combination of grace and resistance that is carving a way for her and a community of Black women in skateboarding to be recognised for the space that they are taking up in a white male dominated sport.
The women from the skate collective “Spectrum” cruise through the city streets of downtown Johannesburg, redefining the narrative of what it means to be African women in skateboarding in a city notoriously known for its high statistics of gender based violence. Making themselves visible in spaces that often discriminate against them, their determination to be comfortable wherever they roam has paved a way for many women to venture into the city’s landscapes on their boards like never before.
Blood-In, Blood-Out
Fearless and determined, Thabiso Mashiyakgomo parades her battle wounds with pride. The passion she pours into skateboarding is revealed on her scars and continues to drive her as a skateboarder, relentlessly taking on street spots and continuously shattering the glass ceiling of what it means to be a Black woman in skateboarding.

Dogg Pound Days Captions
1. Curious kids from the neighborhood try to get a glimpse of a punk show.
2. In true punk rock style, Thula ‘Stroof’ Sizwe – guitarist of TCIYF – continues to perform after being electrocuted by a short-circuited fuse.
3. Searching for street spots to skate in Soweto is challenging, both physically due to the lack of infrastructure and attitudinally due to the general population’s misperception of skate culture as one that is destructive and dangerous. The Soweto Skate Society has made it their mission to shatter the belief that skateboarding culture can only exist in spaces outside of the township.”



The Daily Edit – Emily Sullivan: High Country News

High Country News

Photographer: Emily Sullivan
Photo Editor: Bear Guerra

Heidi: How has your experience as a backcountry guide informed your photography
career, were you an athlete first and then a photographer? No doubt being a
guide took to you some magical places.
Emily: I was a photographer first—I got my BFA at VCU Arts in Richmond, Virginia, where I
fostered a longstanding love of photography and film through large-scale installation
pieces. Much of my time in art school was spent creating imagery that integrated
sculpture into landscapes and vice-versa. I grew up as a city kid, but my passion for
chasing light and landscapes later inspired me to seek out hiking, backcountry skiing,
and other forms of wilderness travel. Working in the outdoor industry as a guide helped
me to develop hard skills that allow me to now travel deeper into the mountains and
other remote locations with my camera.

You’re originally from the South East, what drew you to the vastness and wilds of
Alaska and how long have you been there?
I grew up in Richmond, Virginia, and lived there until I was 22 years old. In my teens, I
was drawn to Alaska with photography in mind—I wanted to experience and document
the unique landscapes that Alaska had to offer. I first came here in early 2010. I didn’t
know a single soul, but I wanted to learn more about the place and experience the land.
I spent the first nine summers guiding hikes and working seasonal jobs in Denali
National Park, then I moved full-time to Anchorage in 2019.

How did you weave your way into the community in AK and eventually, retrace
the (some) steps of the famed naturalist and conservationist, Mandy Murie, a
voice in helping create the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge?
My relationship with the Alaskan landscape eventually inspired me to direct my energy
towards conservation issues. This is how I became more deeply entwined in
community—once I began working on land protections with environmental non-profits, I
became invested and involved with others doing similar work.
I was originally inspired to travel through the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge following
Mardy Murie’s steps to raise awareness for the importance of protecting the
Refuge’s coastal plain from oil and gas development. It wasn’t until later that I began to
understand how integral Indigenous land protectors have been to these issues, though
conservationists like the Muries are more widely celebrated. I also began to learn about
some of the harms of conservation—how designated Wilderness can prevent
Indigenous communities from accessing or hunting in their ancestral homelands.
Since then, I’ve turned my attention and efforts toward uplifting Indigenous knowledge
and stories in conservation work. My last four visits to the Arctic National Wildlife
Refuge has been with Indigenous land protectors involved in a project called the
Imago Initiative, who have taught me so much about the importance of ancestral
reciprocity with lands and waters.

Tell us how you met Deenaalee Chase-Hodgdon and learn about their Smoke
House Collective.
Deenaalee and I met when we both worked seasonal jobs in Denali National Park about
ten years ago. We got to know each other better in recent years—Deenaalee is deeply
invested in land and water protections, so our work would sometimes overlap. Alaska is
a huge state with a small population, so our community is relatively tight-knit.
I learned about the Smokehouse Collective when Deenaalee shared an early fundraiser
to help the Collective purchase a commercial fishing permit. I loved what Ruth and
Deenaalee were aiming to do—reclaim cultural practices while redistributing fish,
berries, and other foods to communities that are experiencing food insecurity due to
colonization and the climate crisis. I wanted to support this work in any way possible.

How many days did you spend with her and what was the conversation in
between photo moments?
I spent a few days with Deenaalee in Interior Alaska, one day with their co-founder Ruth
in Anchorage, and then six more days in Dillingham with Deenaalee. We hadn’t planned
to shoot in such a concentrated manner, but plans changed a few times due to illness
and travel commitments. I was very appreciative of the trust Deenaalee showed me by
inviting me to join them in Dillingham. Shooting in small communities in Alaska requires
trust from the community and awareness of cultural norms and consent.
Deenaalee had established relationships in Dillingham from their time there as a
fisherman, but had just moved there full-time after a long period of nomadic movement
throughout Alaska. Between photo moments, Deenaalee was not only trying to get their
new home set up, but they were attending meetings with funders and partner
organizations, connecting with community members over Smokehouse initiatives, and
doing a lot of the behind-the-scenes work of getting the Collective up and running.
This made for interesting reporting as I got to learn a lot of the background of the nuts-
and-bolts of establishing a grassroots non-profit like the Smokehouse Collective.
Deenaalee and I even attended a local meeting of the federal Subsistence Advisory Council in Dillingham. These “down moments” added a lot of context to the story the
photo essay would tell. The on-the-ground reporting inspired us to run the image
captions in long form, adding nuance to the wonderful written intro by Joaqlin Estus.

How did this project come about and what is the Climate Futures Fund?
In August, I received a call for pitches for a photo grant offered by High Country News,
specifically seeking to tell stories of climate resilience. HCN offers such grants a few
times a year to support assignment-based photo essays for their special issues. The
Climate Futures Special Issue was focused on sharing the message that “it’s not too
late to create a better climate future,” and I thought Smokehouse was a great example
of boots-on-the-ground work towards creating climate resilience in Alaska. I reached out
to Deenaalee for a pre-interview, and then I wrote a 500-word pitch explaining my approach.
In September, I was awarded the grant. The final edit was due in November. HCN and I
agreed that the story would benefit from an Alaska Native writer, and the magazine
assigned the intro text to Tlingit journalist Joaqlin Estus.

What type of direction did you get from the HCN, most notably from the photo
editor Bear Guerra.
I met with photo editor Bear Guerra and issue editor Emily Benson a couple of times
before beginning my reporting, and then I met with Bear several times throughout the
assignment. He prompted me to consider how we could visualize the early phases of
Smokehouse’s resource distribution (Deenaalee jarring salmon), encouraged me to
show the behind-the-scenes work of establishing the Collective (Deenaalee and Ruth
meet on video calls), and helped me think through a number of challenges that arose
during my reporting.
A few of the scenes I hoped to capture were just not possible, so Bear provided
encouragement and was a great thought partner in pivoting towards what was possible.
I came back from Dillingham with more images and scenes than we could use
in the story, so Bear gave me an opportunity to cull and choose my own favorite images
before he curated the final set. I’m really happy with the set of images Bear ultimately
selected, and his input as a photo editor was vital to telling a cohesive story.

The Daily Edit – Daniel Beltra: El Pais

December 2, 2023, Chernihiv, Ukraine. Lukashivka village suffered serious damage during the Russian invasion in March 2022.
November 18, 2023, Kyiv region, Ukraine. Homes were damaged in Gostomel during the beginning of the Russian invasion in February 2022.
November 19, 2023, Kyiv region, Ukraine. Buildings damaged by the Russian invasion in Borodyanka.
November 30, 2023, Kyiv, Ukraine. What’s left of Russian military equipment used during the invasion.
The Hostomel airport is owned by and named after the Antonov aircraft manufacturing company and operated by its subsidiary Antonov Airlines. The destroyed Mriya (the largest plane in the world-An-225) was based here. At the beginning of the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, the airport became the site of an intense battle. It was temporarily held by Russian forces and sustained heavy damage to facilities and aircraft.
November 30, 2023, Kyiv, Ukraine. Parts of the destroyed Mriya (largest plane in the world-An-225). The Hostomel airport is owned by and named after the Antonov aircraft manufacturing company and operated by its subsidiary Antonov Airlines.
November 30, 2023, Kyiv, Ukraine. What’s left of an Antonov AN-26 destroyed during the Russian invasion.
December 2, 2023, Chernihiv, Ukraine. Lukashivka village suffered serious damage during the Russian invasion in March 2022.
December 4, 2023, Sumy, Ukraine. Apartments damaged by a Russian Shahed drone on July 2023.
December 5, 2023,
Kharkiv, Ukraine.
The neighborhood of North Saltivka was badly damaged by Russian shelling in March 2022.
Before the war it had 400,000 inhabitants. Around 70% of the houses suffered damage.
December 6th, 2023, Izium, Ukraine. The Pischanka forest near Izium was partly burned during the Russian invasion. An unexploded rocket amongst reforested pine trees (Pinus sylvestris).
December 7, 2023, Nikopol, Ukraine. Bus stop in Dnipro, across a building damaged during the Russian invasion.
December 8, 2023, Gogoleve, Poltava Oblast, Ukraine. On the night of 28 August 2023, Russian Federation forces launched a missile attack on the company Garant (they produce oil and export grains), Two Bulava missiles hit the factory killing 4 employees that were working the night shift. Reconstruction work is well underway with over 1000 trucks of scraped metal taken from the site.156 employees used to work there. In the picture some corn left after the attack in one of the storage silos.
December 13, 2023, Sergiivka, Odessa OblastUkraine. On July 1st 2022, three X-59 missiles were launched from aircraft into Sergiivka, a summer sea side location. They impacted different locations producing a total of 21 casualties. In the picture, the Primoria Spa was also affected

El Pais

Photographer: Daniel Beltra
Photo Editor: Gorka Lejarcegi

Heidi: Your work balances a line between environmental beauty and catastrophe with a focus on
aerial photography. How difficult was it to work from the ground, I know you had planned to fly a drone.

Daniel: Working from the ground was complicated, security is understandably tightened, and lots of different permits needed to be secured. There are also many military checkpoints all over the country.
The main difficulty for me was to wrap my head around the fact that the project I had planned and trained for most of the year (I had never flown drones before) was gone and I needed to get in gear and do what was possible.

Heidi: What foiled those plans and how hard was it to pivot? What was the lesson there?

Daniel: Even though my initial project using drones was supported by the Ukrainian authorities, things changed once I arrived in Kiev. A total ban on any civilian flying was implemented with no exceptions made. For a while, we tried to get special permission without any luck.
Flexibility would be the lesson, I had to adapt. I was concerned and had doubts, but I always told myself that the only way to take photographs was to go out and take them. Too much thinking or worrying is counterproductive. I just had to start working and get a feel for it. Now, almost three months after my return, I’m happy with the results.

Heidi: There’s an abundance of imagery covering the destruction in Ukraine, what drew you there?

Daniel: There are so many talented photographers showing the direct and brutal impact of the war.
The project I was trying to execute was different: documenting the war’s environmental impact from the air had not been done, at least not on a larger scale.
As horrible as the consequences of this terrible war were for Ukrainians, I wanted to show that there were other long-term consequences.

Heidi: Tell us about the planning and what support you had going into this trip.

Daniel: My project was sponsored by the Embassy of Spain in Ukraine and the Spanish Agency for International Cooperation and Development (AECID). I also got a couple of private donors to help.
Organizing a project like this remotely is challenging. The team at the Embassy in Kiev was crucial to get the planning going. It was them who made all the connections with the Ukrainian Ministry for the Environment. I also consulted with Greenpeace (I have a very long relationship with them) and they helped suggest locations to photograph. Between all these parties we came up with a list of locations that we thought were interesting. We then had to get the permits to be able to access them. Many were not available due to their proximity to combat zones.

Heidi: You mentioned working with the military who was juggling 100s of journalists’ requests a day – how did you hope your imagery would stand out?
Daniel: As I previously mentioned, the ecocide (environmental impact of the war) had not been covered extensively. I am not a war photographer, in fact, for this project, I had no access to the current front lines.
The final set of images diverted from that original goal. They show some of the scars the war is leaving in the country.

Heidi: Your images are haunting and absent of the human element – but indicate humanity, was that always the plan?
Daniel: That was part of the original plan. A lot of my work is done from the air. This unique perspective helps emphasize the impact we are having on the environment.
That was not an option in Ukraine. More artistic and abstract images helped give a different perspective, less harsh than pure photojournalism but also efficient to convey the ongoing tragedy.

Heidi: Knowing your work and plans for this project,  I thought the first image was land scars shot from above – I was wrong. Tell us about the image.

Daniel: I like images that can be confusing on a first approach, where the viewer needs to go an extra step to understand what’s on the frame. Through that tension, I hope to inspire some reflection. This particular photograph shows the snow-covered, bullet-ridden windshield of a van damaged during the battle in the small village of Lukashivka. I shot the image from the inside of the vehicle, what happened to the occupants? It’s a haunting frame.

Heidi: Do you have plans to return?
Daniel: Hopefully before this summer, working on that right now.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine began in 2022, what were your observations on how daily life has adapted since then?
We just passed the second anniversary of the invasion. I was amazed by the Ukrainian’s resilience, despite the daily missile and drone strikes and the endless air raid alarms.
Most of the nights I was there the alarms were going off, even on multiple occasions on a single night. One day a Ukrainian friend asked me if I went to the refuge during the air raid.  When I answered I stayed in bed, and she replied you are Ukrainian now.  It made me reflect on how tough it is to be living constantly under threat and how humans manage to adapt to almost anything.

The Daily Edit – Chad Unger: Fire Barked at Eternity



Chad Unger

Chad Unger (b. 1993) is a Deaf-Gay artist originally from Maryland, currently based in Los Angeles. Growing up with a deaf family, actively involved with the deaf community, and primarily communicating through American Sign Language, Chad’s experiences shaped him into an observer with a deep appreciation of stories with strong visual elements. Chad started his career by merging his passion for capturing stories and snowboarding in Utah. His low-key athleticism matches his photographic style, curious, and intentional. We connected for a ride in Ojai, and within minutes he disappeared up the road, floating on the pedals. Once I caught up to him he was taking in both the moment and the vista.

You moved from New York to LA, how has that influenced your creative process? You mentioned NY having a different pace, how are you finding the pace in LA?
Moving from New York to Los Angeles has significantly influenced my creative process. Living in New York, where I primarily worked as a photo assistant or production assistant, I felt a lack of community and struggled with the fast-paced environment. However, since relocating to Los Angeles and discovering the deaf gay community, my personal growth and creative process have flourished. The pace in LA is undoubtedly much slower, which has been a positive change. This slower pace allows me to sit with my thoughts, fostering a more effortless creative environment.

The ambient energy of NYC keeps one moving quickly, your analog work feels more intimate, and has softer tones, was that hard to balance?
Yes, the energy of NYC, with its rapid pace and limited access to the outdoors, did make it challenging to balance. The quick pace of the city affected my ability to connect with nature, which I later realized was crucial for me. After moving to LA, I’ve noticed a significant improvement in the creativity of my work. The change in environment allowed me to strike a better balance and bring a new, more relaxed energy to my creative process.
How has your love of nature, snowboarding, and now your new love of gravel cycling informed your work?
My love for nature, snowboarding, and now bike riding has influenced my work. Being active in the outdoors allows me to process ideas and thoughts seamlessly. The experiences gained through snowboarding and bike riding contribute to my creative process. Moreover, as someone who manages a good amount of anxiety, immersing myself in nature, whether through snowboarding or bike riding, serves as a therapeutic outlet, impacting my overall well-being and, consequently, enhancing the quality of my work.
How have you refined your photographic practices for taking portraits?
I make an effort to browse through the work of other photographers, drawing inspiration from different styles and techniques. This helps me have diverse approaches to portrait photography. Also, I spend time doing many test shoots where I try different lighting, poses, and compositions. This helps me improve my skills and figure out what works best for me.

Tell me about 20,310 feet: why was this trip important to you and your sister?
The 20,310 trip, climbing Denali with my sister was really important for us. It wasn’t just about reaching a high place; it showed how determined and close we are as siblings. Climbing at high altitudes was tough, needing both physical strength and mental toughness due to unpredictable weather conditions, complex terrain, and the slow, deliberate pace. This experience taught me the value of patience, not just in climbing but also in life. It also helped my sister start her career as a mountaineer. The climb inspired her to follow her passion, and I am a proud brother.

What projects are you working on now?

I’m currently working on a project with Deaf LGBT+ elders who lived through the AIDS crisis. I have been listening to and capturing their stories. I aim to inspire both the Deaf and Queer communities, encouraging them not only to appreciate the wisdom of these elders but also the communities that they forged to sustain hope for future generations.

The need for “slow art” and embracing patience comes alive in your use of film and your latest zine, Fire Barked at Eternity. What was the creative intent? You weave in and out of urban and abstract quiet respites in nature.
I had no specific goal or intention behind ‘Fire Barked at Eternity.’ It was simply a reflection of what I observed during my travels in Morocco. As you can see, it’s evident how I move back and forth between outdoor and city settings even in my travels.


The Daily Edit – ESPN: Hugh Kretschmer


Photographer: Hugh Kretschmer
Photo Editors: Kaitlin A. Marron and Robert H. Booth

Heidi: How did this moving portrait series idea come about?
Hugh: The idea for the portrait series originated while I was capturing moments of a longtime friend and her daughter as a special gift. Although we explored various concepts that day, the “layering” concept held the utmost significance for me. Initially, I had planned to craft a unique artwork by creating a combined portrait through a practical collage. My original idea involved producing large prints of their individual portraits, cutting them into strips, and intricately weaving them together.

However, a pivotal moment shifted my approach away from collage. While shooting tethered and utilizing the overlay feature in Capture One, I was captivated by the results when aligning two captures and adjusting the opacity of the overlaid image to 50%. By reducing the opacity of the overlaid image by 50%, a hybrid of both subjects emerged – a Third Person – becoming the namesake of the entire project.

Has generational transmission of knowledge, passing down stories, and cultural identity helped inform this idea?
No, I comprehend the direction of your question. This project is solely a visual exploration of genetics. I lack a deep familiarity with most of my subjects, preventing me from incorporating elements that authentically convey their stories. The nuances of their gestures, expressions, or body language may serve as the only components beyond facial features that could contribute to a more intricate narrative.

Nevertheless, the initial commission took a different approach, delving into the family’s history and Frank Senior’s remarkable NFL career before progressing to Junior, who is following in his father’s footsteps. I empathize with Junior and the potential challenges he might encounter in living up to his father’s success. 

It resonates with my own experience when I chose to pursue a career in photography, following in my father’s footsteps and facing the pressure to meet a set of expectations, largely my own.

Is this series a response to the layered narratives available in both double exposure and moving images?
Absolutely! I’m incorporating more motion into my work because I find it enjoyable and stimulating. It’s a fun challenge that allows me to expand my problem-solving skills, and this project is a continuation of that exploration. While motion is always a consideration during a shoot, I typically don’t start with a storyboard. Instead, I keep an eye open for opportunities as they arise during the session and proceed from there.

I strive to align the chosen technique with the narrative and vice versa. For instance, the double exposure effect in this series aligns perfectly with the theme of genetics, which is why I used it to depict a family’s heritage through these “double” portraits.

The ideal moment for incorporating motion occurred while photographing Frank Senior, first in his graduation gown and then in his everyday attire. I was struck by how consistently Frank Senior maintained his expression throughout. Remarkably, I found one frame in each set that matched so precisely that there was no discernible change in his expression or head position when I merged the images.

Your parents were fluent but polar opposite creatives; looking back, how has that influenced your work?
My father served as a photo-instrumentation engineer for NASA, imparting to me both photography skills and the art of problem-solving. On the other hand, my mother, who had an artistic influence on the family, acquainted me with 20th-century art movements.

Even after their passing, they remain significant influences on my early work, albeit indirectly. I can still hear my father saying that every problem has a solution, no matter how complex or insurmountable. Under pressure, he would often share a favorite piece of advice: “Getting a man on the moon was just an idea at first.” (It occurred to me much later in life that he might not have known the answer to my question and offered those “words of wisdom” to avoid any embarrassment.)

In contrast, my mother took a gentler approach to my countless questions, sitting with me and delving into every detail of a subject I inquired about. She would retrieve museum catalogs or art history books from her library, opening them up to explain the composition, color choices, and techniques employed by artists to bring elements together uniquely. Thanks to her, my work consistently reflects the art movements she introduced me to, an influence that persists to this day.

ESPN retired its print issue. How has this digital-only context opened up ideas for you creatively?
Certainly, they retired their print issue, and honestly, that’s a disappointment for me. I have an affinity for the printed page and miss the tactile qualities of a finely printed magazine. However, the transition to digital has brought about both opportunities and a few challenges.

Given that ESPN is predominantly viewed on phones now, the magazine requested versions of specific images to be cropped in different aspect ratios, particularly extreme horizontal formats. This information before the shoot allowed us to plan and capture backplates in vertical and horizontal orientations to meet their requirements. 

One notable advantage of digital magazines is the ability to incorporate motion. While not specifically requested for this assignment, I volunteered it as an option. (I’m not sure if they used the motion in the issue, but it provided an opportunity for me to showcase the possibilities to the photo editors.)

Tell us about the creative process for the portrait of  NFL Running back Frank Gore and his oldest son, Frank Gore JR. (is there any crossover with you, living up to a parent’s identity?
Your question is indeed intriguing and resonates with me, as Junior and I share a similar experience. Like Junior, I chose to walk in my father’s footsteps by pursuing photography. However, the stakes seem higher for Frank Junior, considering his father’s immense success and stature. Additionally, his journey mirrors his father’s even more closely, given that he’s playing the same position.

My path diverged somewhat from my father’s. While he was involved in scientific photography at NASA, I ventured into the commercial side of photography. Nevertheless, I, too, grappled with the challenge of meeting his expectations. That’s where our paths differ. Frank Gore Jr. might be striving to uphold his father’s legacy, whereas I was, in a way, seeking my father’s approval.

What were the obstacles of the project, if any, and how did you problem-solve?
The primary challenge we encountered was the exceptionally low ceiling in the hotel conference room where our photo shoot took place. This limitation meant we couldn’t capture the Gores in a standing position, leaving us with no option but to photograph them while seated. To address this, we improvised by using a makeup chair we found in an adjacent room. Surprisingly, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The chair served as a stable anchor, simplifying the alignment of my subjects and facilitating the registration of their facial features during post-production.

Despite this initial hurdle, the remainder of the shoot proceeded seamlessly. We successfully captured all the necessary elements for the nine deliverables within the allocated two-hour time frame.

The Daily Edit – Where is the Cool: Laurent Laporte

Where is the Cool

“Good question. Let this pretentious magazine give you the answer.
This biannual printed magazine is available here (yes, they ship internationally)

Creator: Laurent Laporte

Heidi: You founded this project 10 years ago, looking back, what would you tell your younger self?
Laurent: You were absolutely right not to listen to people who try to demotivate you.

How has the content evolved as you’ve gone from a blog to Instagram, and finally print?
In a completely organic and instinctive way and by making mistakes that make you learn and understand how things work, more or less.

What notes need to be hit to be featured in Where is the Cool?
It is also very instinctive. It’s very contextual, each issue starts as a puzzle, and sometimes you know which pieces are a miss, sometimes you just find it without really looking after it.

How did your background in advertising inform your decision to make this magazine and not include ads?
99% of the time advertising is aesthetically disgraceful or not in line with the aesthetic of the magazine. I wanted to make something pure where nothing comes to break the attention of the reader. Also, we only talk about cool things and there are not so many cool brands today.

People say print is dead (I disagree) what are your thoughts on advertising being dead?
It depends on who is talking. I know that many people interested in fashion, love to buy fashion magazines and also to see the ads. It gives them today’s tone, and keeps them aware of what’s happening. On my side, I don’t even know how I can explain how much I found this lame.

The variety of subjects in each issue is very diverse. Is there a personal thread tying everything together, or a subtle theme for the viewers to enjoy finding for themselves?
It’s a personal project at the end, so I speak most of the time about very subjective opinions trying to make them in a very objective way.

So refreshing! A magazine with more photography than writing but still something to say and engage in cover to cover in 1 hour. Why 21 topics? (I read you cover 21 items an issue)
It was a model that worked well when I needed a reassuring structure of the puzzle. Now it’s more free.

What are the hardest parts of producing such a magazine that most people wouldn’t even think of?
Nothing is hard here, if you believe in it, it happens. Constraints make things happen. Will it work? You will know that later, as with every project. But in the end you made something and the that’s most important part.

How do people pitch in ideas?
I receive a lot of pitches every day from a lot of people who never bought the mag, so they don’t understand the editorial line behind it. It’s me pitching photographers with ideas most of the time.

I enjoyed your piece on Relax Watch, can you share how that piece came about?
I stumbled upon that interesting project about Rolex parody watches and I find it super interesting. It looks like another signal in my head about the saturation of luxury things. In a world that needs to step back, it’s very strange that people still want to stay in a world of ostentatious things that do not fit with the new ideals we should look for today.

The Daily Edit – Hard Pack Magazine: Zach Seely

Hark Pack Magazine

Editor and Founder: Zach Seely

Creative Direction and Design: SOON Services, Brendan Dunne, Ken Tokunaga

Fashion Director: Benoit Martinengo
Designer: Christian Sant

Heidi: What compelled you to start a niche print publication based around skiing?
Zach: There’s a simple reason for starting Hard Pack. I have a passion for skiing, images and words. In that sense, it sounded like a lot of fun.A more complex reason is because I was tired of the images and media around skiing. To me, how the media had represented the sport felt stuck and ossified in a particular mode. For all the variety of the sport, why had the image of skiing felt so undifferentiated? The majority of media around skiing falls into two camps. The first camp comes from the perspective of an elite hobbyist. It focuses on apres ski, expensive gear, resort reviews, and pricey hotels. The second camp comes from the perspective of a ski bum. It focuses on lots of powder, steep lines and probably some Grateful Dead vibes.
I have nothing against these two images, but they are not my experience of the sport. There was an opportunity to subvert those traditional images of skiing. The new image would be multi-dimensional, philosophical, and weird. It would embrace stories on architecture, fashion, design, poetry, fiction and criticism.I started Hard Pack to publish new voices whom you would not find in other ski and outdoor publications.

What makes this magazine different from endemic titles that have (may have) disappeared or gone exclusively digital?
Our title Hard Pack is both an homage to Powder which I grew up with but also a provocation. Hard pack snow, of course, refers to the type of snow no one celebrates but the majority of us ski on. We take that provocation as our editorial mandate to do things other titles wouldn’t do. So, of course, we will never publish resort reviews or rankings or a gear review. But we go beyond that. We want to develop a new lexicon for the sport. To do this, we prioritize photographers and writers outside of the ski industry. And by working with these types of creators we end up with stories not typically seen in a ski magazine. We also have a fashion component. Benoit Martinengo is our fashion director. And he leads the fashion editorials for each issue. By engaging with the sport through the lens of fashion, we are able to have a perspective on the rise of outdoor technical clothes in the fashion industry. Finally, we are a print-only publication. We invest a great amount of our resources in the print object. The creative directors, Ken Tokunaga and Brendan Dunne of SOON Services, design the magazine. Each layout is custom. We don’t have a set flatplan. We let the stories inform the design and vice versa. Each issue has multiple paper stocks and unique print inks. We want to create an object you want to hold onto.

How old were you when you first started sliding on snow?
Apparently my dad told my mom that if I can walk then I can ski. He put me on skis at the age of three and took me to Alta in Utah. Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons became my playground essentially. I was able to see the tram at Snowbird from my bedroom window.

In a few words, tell us what skiing is for you and how it has shaped you personally, and creatively…
I’m not super interested in over-romanticising the sport. Obviously, I’m obsessed with it, but it’s only one aspect of my life. Skiing is my favorite outdoor sport among many others like surfing and road cycling. Skiing is also an intellectual pursuit of mine. I’m always reading about it, seeking out poetry that mentions it, and finding cinema that references it. It’s a generous sport to think with. But it’s also an expensive hobby that is part of an industry that is complex and not always good to every stakeholder. That means I have some complicated feelings about the sport, as well.

How did launching Sandwich magazine inform this work, both creatively and through the nuts and bolts of business?
Sandwich magazine was a surprise. I was running a marketing team at a small food CPG company. We needed something to bring a bit of energy to a very crowded and challenging category. We had grown tired of producing food content for the algorithms. We were looking for content that was more in-depth and that mirrored our own passion. We had been big fans of Lucky Peach, the independent food magazine. We thought we could publish something similar. We ended up partnering with TCO out of London to bring it to life. We called it Sandwich. Its mandate is to publish overlooked aspects of food and culture. Each issue takes inspiration from the ingredients of a sandwich to talk about new stories. It blew up on social media. It did well at newsstands. Sold surprisingly well online. It became a viable independent magazine. From that I learned a lot about the magazine publishing world. It gave me great contacts with printers, distributors and retailers. Also, it gave me my first peek into the life of an editor.

How are you trying to make the objects of skiing photographically arresting? Silent Snowfall by Lara Giliberto is gorgeous.
Well, one thing we are trying to do is bring in new voices to the sport. Lara’s work in issue two is one such example. Lara does incredible still life work working often with M Le magazine du Monde out of Paris. She collaborated with set designer Camille Lichtenstern for this work. What they achieved with “Silent Snowfall” is particularly gorgeous. They took ski objects like avalanche shovels, ski wax, and boots and paired them with high-fashion objects. That type of lens meant we’d be able to see a ski boot like never before. The idea of shooting a ski boot upside down is very simple but never done and that’s what they did. It’s quite the statement but hard to pull off. It takes an outside eye to achieve that. In main ways, this story is our response to the season-preview gear reviews that typical magazines publish. We happen to prefer to showcase these objects not as functional objects but as objects of high design.

Matthew Hensen and his legacy were celebrated in the launch issue with the story “That Went Downhill Fast”. The project is beautifully photographed by Samuel Bradley and exquisitely styled by Benoit Martinengo. Tell me about the evolution of this project.

Well, Benoit is our fashion director and he knows Samuel Bradley. Samuel is one of the best fashion and editorial photographers around. Benoit approached Samuel about contributing, and Samuel was immediately interested. We had discussions about different stories. We ended up landing on something that Samuel could shoot in London. The inspiration came from Matthew Hensen, who was the first man to reach the North Pole. The historical photos of this explorer are stunning. It became a cool collaboration for Samuel and Benoit. Benoit had the challenge of recreating those looks with contemporary brands. They still had to feel modern though. What he achieved feels very timeless. That’s thanks to many of the brands like Roa Hiking and Lemaire. Samuel is able to fill the entire story with a sense of humor. That humor is a necessary component to this story. The skier, our model, has veered off course finding himself in the streets of London. Samuel has a great eye for capturing humor while creating stunning images. In the end, the story is one of my favorites we’ve ever created. It is a fun commentary on the entire streetwear meets gorpcore movement. It’s able to make a nice comment while remaining thoughtful, sophisticated and beautiful.

What are your hopes for this printed project?
I generally hope that we get to keep making them. I hope that enough people want to read and own them that it becomes a sustainable business. Very simple stuff, to be honest. It’s rare to put a print object out in the world in our era. It’s meaningful to connect with others who share a similar passion for the sport and for print. On the creative front I hope we continue to work with exciting photographers like Samuel and Lara. Doing editorial work is a labor of love, and it’s so meaningful to have photographers who want to work with you. And, finally, I hope we are making a meaningful change to the ski industry and the way it portrays itself. Even if the impact is small, we hope we are widening the scope of the sport. We hope to make it accessible to people who have never picked up a ski magazine before.

What surprised you the most, now that you’re well into your 3rd issue?
Honestly, what surprised me the most is that we got so many inbound requests from photographers and writers asking to contribute after only our first issue. It’s a small thing but the response from the photo community has been special.

Any advice for anyone who is launching a print magazine?
Reach out to the editors of your favorite magazines and take them out for coffee. I find that the community is all about support. I’ve received so much help from countless industry veterans to newcomers.

How can photographers get involved in the magazine?
Send us a note at

The Daily Edit – Bikepacking: Nathan Khalsa


Photographer: Nathan Khalsa

Heidi: How did this project come about, were you published by Bikepacking before?
Nathan: The project was born out of how most of my work is born. I want to go do a thing, and I bring a camera along. Lucky for me, I was accompanied by two other photographers so the body of work was much more substantial. This was my first time contributing to Bikepacking. An editor that follows me on Instagram had reached out to me to ask if I’d like to do a little write-up to be featured. I thought it was an awesome opportunity because I love that publication, I didn’t even realize it would be paid until after I turned it in. I was just stoked for the opportunity. I haven’t had a consistent writing practice since college, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t challenging, but I’m eager to keep looking for more opportunities to develop that side of my storytelling.

Did you keep a journal to remember all the details of the trip?
I do find great value in a journal, but I don’t typically find that it fits into my process, especially when I’m trying to shoot and be present. For this particular narrative, I feel the photos did a good job of being the journal. They go a long way to bring back feelings and memories. On my next bikepacking escapade, I would like to make an effort to keep a journal, because it is a great way to document the little details you may forget.

How difficult was the photo edit and how many rolls did you shoot?
Between the 3 of us over a 4-day trip, I think we shot 10 rolls. I shot 3 and a half. The editing was extremely difficult, but I always have a hard time editing down. Especially with 2 other photographers, it was difficult getting it down to the number Bikepacking specified, telling the story, and making sure we all had good representation. I feel like a lot of interesting moments were captured, some that unfortunately didn’t make it into the final article. I suppose that’s just the nature of the beast. 

I know you can ride a lot and manage work from the hearty numbers you posted for the Patagonia Global strava challenge and your 2020 bike tour. When you’re bikepacking, there’s always something to prep or clean up, how did you find time to create the images?
Good question. There is also the dichotomy of living the experience and being outside of it to photograph it. I think I have been doing it for a long time, so at this point, I am always looking for those interesting moments. I’ll drop anything I am doing if the light is hitting just right, or a composition jumps out at me. It also helped to have 2 friends who are also very familiar with the photographic process, so they are easy subjects.  An ill-advised but handy trick is to ride with one or no hands and shoot from the bike, which allows for some really cool and dynamic shots. That is something I got lots of practice with on my 2020 bike tour. Being relatively comfortable with the activity is also important. I am comfortable living off of a bike, and have a system down that works, so I don’t have the stress of “Where the hell am I going to put tonight’s dinner in one of these bags?” or “I thought I packed my pump…” Being prepared goes a long way so you can focus on not only shooting, but enjoying.

It’s not bikebacking until your pushing, a friend once said. Tell us about this photo.
This photo didn’t make it in the final edit, but is a pretty good visual on how hard we were working climbing up Mt. Constitution. The trails were at inclines that were not bikeable, so it turned into a 2 mile slog pushing heavy bikes up the mountain. Paddy and I were both worried about Hank as he was having some health issues feeling faint, especially at high output. Not having many options besides keep going up, we were hoping to find the top sooner or later. Hank has one of the best attitudes though. Always down for an adventure, and hardly said no to anything, he pushed through and was ok. When we got to the top, the road coming up had closed, so the ride down was a smooth, fast, car free descent at sunset back to camp. Worth every ounce of hard work.
Where does your love of film and photography come from?
Photography is such a strong form of communication for me. It’s a form of creative expression I clicked with at a young age, and what drives me to keep shooting is to capture emotions, memories, and the intangibles of experiences and places.
While I don’t solely shoot film, 2 things draw me to it, but I’ll skip the cliche part everybody already knows about it having a timelessness and nostalgia that is very appealing. For me, it’s mostly the simplicity. Not staring into the back of your camera over-analyzing every shot, not having 10,000 photos to sort at the end, not having the plethora of settings to concern yourself with, not missing the shot because your nose made the focus go to the bottom left of the frame because your nose touched the touch screen. As a tactile learner, I have a big appeal to analog. Modern digital cameras are incredible tools, but film is invaluable for finding each shot a little more precious, and spending less time with the camera and more time in the experience.
Who are your photo inspirations, if any….
Chris Burkard has been a big inspiration to me over the years. Not only his images, but his whole life ethos is noteworthy. And he does some epic bike rides. Another would be Jeff Johnson. I have looked up to him and his adventurous spirit for over a decade, and I love his collection of work from 180º South. One more recent would be Joe Greer. He has an incredible eye for light, composition, and timing. His genre isn’t something I find myself shooting often, but his style I find very appealing that I’d love to draw from.

Are you working on any personal projects?
No personal projects at the moment, but I am looking to make some lifestyle changes to make some more time for photography pursuits soon.

The Daily Edit – Summit Journal: Michael Levy

Summit Journal
Editor: Michael Levy
Creative Director: Randall Levensaler

Heidi: As a senior editor for many titles in the outdoor industry, you’ve seen dramatic change, why resurrect a magazine, and why summit journal?
Michael: There are a few reasons, I guess. Some of it had to do with other examples I’d seen of that. Duane Raleigh, my former boss at Rock and Ice magazine, bought the rights to Ascent magazine in the 2000s at some point. Ascent had been an annual climbing publication put out by the Sierra Club, and it did some incredible stuff, but it was well past its heyday by the time Duane acquired it. He breathed new life into it and created a wonderful new version of Ascent that – until a couple of years ago when it ceased publication – was the best climbing pub around, for my money. 

And so that model, of resurrecting a former title, really intrigued me. It allows you to leverage an older publication’s wonderful history and legacy, but also do something new. To have kind of the best of both worlds. Summit had been on my radar for a number of years. In the back of my mind, I’d always thought it seemed ripe to be resurrected. It was the first monthly climbing magazine in America, founded in 1955 by two women, Jean Crenshaw and Helen Kilness. They were visionaries, way ahead of their time in terms of climbing journalism. And so for a long time, Summit was the climbing magazine. Jean and Helen published it until 1989, and then they sold the rights. The title had a second life from 1990-1996 as a glossy quarterly that also did some great stuff. And since then it’s been dormant. 

So what I loved about the idea of resurrecting Summit was being able to draw a straight line from Royal Robbins, Yvon Chouinard, Doug Robinson – all legends from the Golden Age of Yosemite Climbing who were involved with or wrote for the magazine – to today. Also, the magazine just had such a bold aesthetic: the retro covers are just too cool. Very stylish. I’m hoping to channel some of that into the new Summit Journal.

Will there be any digital content or only print?
It’s print only. My thinking on that is, basically, with the glut of content online, there’s something to be said for a highly curated, physical product. There’s so much out there on the Internet that a lot of stuff, much of it quite good, just gets lost in the noise. But something tactile that you can feel between your fingers and read over a cup of coffee or a beer, that prioritizes long-form. It might not reach as many people, but the people it does reach will be that much more invested. Print feels a bit like vinyl to me; what’s old is new again. Just like vinyl isn’t going to replace Spotify, print isn’t going to replace digital, but there is a very real audience out there (and I’m in it) that likes analog media, and appreciates reading things that aren’t on a screen. 

And building off that, print also felt like a more achievable business model, in a strange way. Though print has a higher bar to entry–the hard costs to get it off the ground are greater, and without attracting enough subscribers you’re dead in the water–once cleared, the way forward feels much clearer. You can only fill a magazine with so many articles, after all. 

Tell us about your first conversation with Paula Crenshaw, Jean’s niece, about bringing the Summit back.
So I actually first emailed with Paula several years ago, after Jean died. I wrote a short obituary. When I got back in touch with her early this year I shared what at that point was just my very vague idea of resurrecting Summit – and she was really supportive of it from the get-go. (That’s been one of the most gratifying things about this project: everyone has such fond memories of the original that they get really enthusiastic about the magazine coming back for a new era and a new audience.)

Paula herself was a climber back in the day. These days her real passion is marksmanship – she’s a competitive shooter! But professionally, she’s a doctor. Resurrecting Summit was never something that she wanted to do herself at any point. But she thought it would be a lovely thing for me to revive it – if I could figure out how, which was still a big if at that point. Until chatting with Paula, the idea was still just that, if only because as I told her in that call, I wouldn’t have pursued it any further without her blessing. The legacy of Summit, and what Jean and Helen built, didn’t feel like something that I had the right to mess with without getting explicit permission from their family. That was really important to me.

Who else is still involved from the magazine’s genesis and what has been their greatest insight?
So beyond Paula, another great supporter has been David Swanson, the guy who bought Summit from Jean and Helen in 1989 and then published it from 1990 to 1996 as Summit: The Mountain Journal. David’s publishing from that time is obviously worlds away from what the landscape is like today, but storytelling and good imagery never changes – he’s been a valuable resource and sounding board as I got my feet under me helming Summit Journal. He also has some great historical knowledge and connections. I’m in touch a little bit with John Harlin III, who edited the magazine in the 1990s and really did an incredible job. I’m hoping to have him write something for the new Summit at some point.

How are you sourcing photography?
So for this first issue I mainly turned to photographers whose work I was already familiar with from working in the industry, and then a few others who I stumbled across on Instagram and whose work I just really admired. Very little for this first issue was on commission – most of it, with a couple tiny exceptions, was already shot. 

But I’m hoping to shift toward more commissioned work going forward to get more of a balance between the two: I’d love to be able to fill the pages with photography that hasn’t already been plastered far and wide across social media, and that is in direct conversation with the written pieces in the magazine.

Another thing I’m trying to do is find ways to incorporate non-climbing photography into the magazine. Climbing photos are obviously at the magazine’s core, but I don’t want it to just all be dramatic mountain vistas and action shots. So in our first issue, for example, I commissioned an essay accompanied by some breathtaking macrophotography. Basically, even though Summit is a climbing magazine, I don’t think that limits us. If something is climbing-adjacent and allows us to broaden our mandate, that to me is really exciting.

Because this was founded by two women and there was controversy and pen names in its heyday, how are you planning to honor the two female founders and be inclusive?
This is something I’m very cognizant of. In short, though I don’t have any formula or anything, I’m trying to always have an eye on the overall make-up of the magazine. In the first issue, our contributors are roughly half women, and half men. At the end of the day, the final criterion for whether something makes it into the mag is whether it’s either good writing or good photography, but there’s fantastic and powerful storytelling and imagery coming out of every corner of the climbing world these days. The main problem is that I can’t fit it all!

And I’m happy to take pitches for photo essays. We have pretty few opportunities for one-off shots in the mag, but photo essays will figure heavily in each issue. Pitch me at Our first issue is due early 2024.

The Daily Edit – Trails Magazine

Trails Magazine
Editor-in-Chief: Ryan Wichelns

Cover Photographer: Sarah Attar

Heidi: Now that you’re 4 issues in and poised for 8, what has been your biggest creative challenge as a team?
Ryan: We’re definitely continuously trying to innovate. I feel like a lot of corporate magazines can get a little bit stagnant. It’s more difficult for them to switch things up. I like the fact that we can take advantage of our size and nimbleness to try new things and deliver new things to our readers. So I’m definitely trying to encourage new ideas from our contributors. 

Your team is fully remote across four time zones, with a distributed workforce what are some of the benefits and challenges?
Yeah, it’s easily the most geographically diverse team I’ve ever worked on. Our photo editor is on Alaska time, I’m on Pacific time, our managing editor is on Mountain time, our designer on Central, and our marketing director on the East. Scheduling obviously has its challenges but I like that we all get out to experience different places and different mountain ranges. We all have a little bit of geographic “expertise” I think. I grew up back East and used to think the big magazines had a little bit of a Rocky Mountain bias. Having our team spread out makes it harder to focus too hard on one spot.

You were funded via Kickstarter initially, what are your plans to keep the presses humming? (I enjoyed your ASMR of the printing press)
Our Kickstarter definitely got the ball moving and funded Issue 1, but every issue since then has been funded by our subscribers. Advertising is a very small part of our business, so we really rely on our subscribers and readers to keep the ship afloat.

How would define the editorial and photo direction of the magazine?
That’s an interesting question. I try not to pigeonhole our content too much, but I do think we try to put an emphasis on bigger, more research-intensive, more immersive, and frankly more important stories. Longform stuff. So much of journalism these days is quick-hit: Listicles, short reads, etc. We’re trying to fill the magazine with the kind of journalism that takes real work.  

You’ve spent your career as an outdoor journalist, so why start your own magazine?
I loved Backpacker. It was the first magazine I ever read as a kid—It was really important to me. Before Backpacker shut down, starting a magazine frankly wasn’t on my radar at all. But once they shut it down, it felt obvious. The backpacking community really didn’t have anything else and it felt like an important hole to fill. After a long time behind the scenes, I felt pretty confident that there was a way to do it better, so here we are.

What words of advice do you have for others considering independent journalism?
Trust your readers. If you make a product for them and make it something that’s easy to like (good content, quality, etc.) they will read it. Print isn’t dead, it’s only that cheap, mass-produced brands of print not thriving. Readers are willing to support good print.

Can you share the backstory for this cover image?
We made our way up and over McGee Pass in early September, on day two of our five-day backpacking trip through California’s High Sierra. On our way up to 11,895 feet, the lingering late-summer snowfields and still-thawing lakes were evidence of the record-breaking winter prior. I appreciated the rhythm and pace of moving among the mountains, allowing for quiet and continuous observation of the landscape, of the lines and the light and the colors, a moving meditation with each step.
 How did you get connected with Trails Magazine?
Sarah: I came across Trails Mag when it first emerged and was immediately intrigued and keen to submit work. I’ve always loved independent, photo-focused, magazines and was excited to see another pop onto the scene. Seeing my work printed is incredibly special, especially amongst some lovely storytelling and other incredible work. I try to engage with it in that way as much as I can, whether that’s through print sales, publications, or my own personal photo cards, it’s so special to bring the digital world into a tangible space. It’s also been a really fun way to build community in the outdoor photo industry. I started submitting some favorite images to Trails Mag and had one featured as a “Vantage Point” in the issue prior, and was incredibly excited and grateful to hear that this photo landed the Issue 4 cover.

How has nature and being human-powered shaped your photography?
Sarah: Photography and movement in nature have evolved symbiotically together in my life. They feel totally interwoven and inform each other constantly. It was over 10 years ago that I ran my first marathon and brought a disposable camera along with me to document it, one exposure for every mile. It was when I was training full-time and living in Mammoth Lakes, CA that I really started to develop my photographic style. I would spend miles running, observing the light, the mountains, the colors, the trails, and then return to these places to photograph them. This felt like a very intimate study and experience of the land. These two very natural and effortless ways of engaging continually inform and inspire the other. A lot of my initial work during this time was very landscape-focused, and that’s still one of my favorite areas to work in. Since diving into photography full-time, it has naturally evolved into documenting people moving through these landscapes. I love photographing people in their element, finding their flow, working hard, and going after their goals in these big beautiful spaces; capturing human-powered movement in the places that move us, while physically exploring the earth and our connection to it. Photography and movement in nature are the ways that I find most presence. They both turn my attention to the world around me. And I’d say a majority of my favorite images have involved some form of time and movement getting out into the mountains.

How can photographers get involved?
Anyone interested in contributing can find out more at
Subscribers can just go to
Images for the blog post:  Lauren Danilek


The Daily Edit – Patagonia Fall 23 Journal Cover: Brian Kelley

Brain Kelley
Gathering Growth

Heidi: The weather was both perfect and unforgettable for snowshoeing up nearly 5,000 vertical feet during a storm with a 4×5 camera and gear (45 lbs) on your back. What was going through your mind during the ascent?  
Brian: When I’m on a mission like the one going up the White Mountains with a specific goal in mind I sort of go into tunnel vision.  I just keep pushing even when I feel tired.  I’m used to hiking great distances with the heavy pack on but adding snow shoes, freezing temps and 3 feet of snow definitely pushed my limits.

Photos by Alex Turner.

Describe the setting and conditions that night.
We camped at 11,000 ft in -4 degree weather.
Getting to the summit in the dark during the storm was a really strange feeling… pushed to my physical limits I just wanted to crawl into a sleeping bag and crash but we had to set up camp and try to get some food into my system.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get my extra down layers on fast enough and the cold started to get to me and my body was shutting down.  But in those situations, you can’t just give up or think you’re going to wake up in a warm cozy bed.  Luckily Forrest has so much experience in these situations and got the tent set up quickly and started melting snow to fill Nalgenes with hot water to stick inside my bag, I was grateful that as a Patagonia ambassador and pro snowboarder, these conditions were familiar to him.  I felt so sick that night that I couldn’t even put food down. I went to bed that night not sure if I’d have the strength or desire to wake up at dawn to get the shot.  Luckily the -20 bag did the trick and I was able to get enough rest and core temp back to start feeling strong enough to go back out.  I definitely questioned whether any photograph is worth putting myself at that type of risk, especially since I have a family.
Forrest Shearer and the cover tree, a Great Basin bristlecone pine (Pinus longaeva) in California’s Sierra Nevada.

Loading film in those conditions must have been a challenge, how many images did you manage to get of the majestic, twisted bristlecone?
Going into missions like this with film, I usually pre-load film in the car.  I had five film holders so ten shots total, not a lot but I felt confident. The big worry is condensation and snow getting to the film. I remember the night before shooting the tree just leaving my bag out in the elements… 20k worth of gear just chilled in a -4 snow storm shout out to Shimoda bags!  But while shooting the tree I was fumbling around on snowshoes trying to figure out angles and felt like snow was just going everywhere. Also, the storm kept going in and out during the shot.  Honestly, when I sent the film out to get developed I just thought to myself I hope at least one comes out.

What have trees taught you over the years and what other projects have grown out of your work for Gathering Growth?
 When I first started to photograph trees I was just chasing “Champion Trees” nominated as the largest of their species.  When I would go to these trees I tried to not treat them as a tourist destination or some sort of mark on a checklist.  Trees have taught me a lot about patience and respect.  In order to pay them respect and make a great image that represents the hundreds or even thousands of years they have been alive you have to spend time with them and see how the light interacts throughout the day.  After two years of photographing champion trees I started the Gathering Growth Foundation as a way to expand upon the archive and document more trees and old-growth forests, and to try to educate people about the important role trees play in our everyday lives.  I’m currently working towards Gathering Growths’ first book. The oldest and largest trees of NY state.

Photo assignments often offer new experiences, what did this present to you? 
This assignment with Patagonia put me into a world that was so foreign to me.  I had never been snowboarding or split boarding before but I knew I wanted to see these trees in the dead of winter, a time that most would never venture to see them or roads are closed down. Overall the assignment pushed me out of my comfort zone and made me a stronger more confident human.

What draws you to conservation work? 
My biggest motivation to work in the conservation world is to allow the future to know what we used to have.  I think we can save a lot and plant new trees but there’s something so depressing about knowing that wildland fires, invasive insects, and intense storms are wiping out some of our oldest and largest trees.  Some 2000-year-old trees might be irreplaceable or might not be seen in the future.

The Daily Edit – Justin Bastien


Justin Bastien Photographer and Director

Heidi: You seem to balance work and your outdoor adventure life well. What was the biggest
surprises within that balance?
Justin: Balancing work and everything else you love in life is always a challenge, especially if you are
a curious person who likes to learn, explore, and try new things. Luckily, I really enjoy my
work, and it often takes me to incredible places around the world, meeting the most
interesting people from all walks of life. I have always tried to live a passion-based life,
following my interests and trying to align those interests with my work. The great thing about
photography and filmmaking is that it’s really endless in terms of where you can go with it.
What started out as a happy accident working with Patagonia years ago with my little 35mm
Yashica T4 point-and-shoot camera has really turned into an adventure of a lifetime. I never
would have imagined that I would get to go to every continent on Earth, explore remote
places where humans have never set foot, and take in all that beauty. The best part is actually
sharing the experiences through photography and films with others, hopefully inspiring people
and maybe making a small difference in the world in the process.
The biggest surprise to me has been that you actually can live a passion-based life. It’s
certainly not an easy path. It might look glamorous on Instagram, but trust me, it is not. It’s a
ton of work, filled with complete uncertainty at every turn and a huge learning curve with
endless ups and downs, but it’s so worth it. I couldn’t live any other way.

How did you get your start, or what was your biggest break?
I would say my start in photography was my biggest break. I was climbing almost full-time and
doing a wide variety of part-time jobs—geology, construction, web design, guiding, etc.—to
fund the next climbing trip. It was all about getting back out there to climb and see new
places. Work was just a means to an end. Along the way, I was fortunate enough to meet the
Photo Editor at Patagonia, Jane Sievert. She asked me to shoot photos on my climbing and
surfing trips. It was super low-key with no expectations. I would shoot these pretty bad
photos, and she would kindly review them, give me some encouraging feedback, and tell me
to keep shooting and working on certain things. Over time, she found a few photographs that
met her needs. It was a wonderful process, and I had no idea how lucky I was at the time and
how it would change my life. I am so grateful to her and Patagonia for leading me down this
incredible path.
From there, it was a long, slow road. I wasn’t a professional photographer yet and had to work
really hard to figure out how to shoot better images and also learn about the business side of
things—all of which is a never-ending process. One thing led to another, and I started getting
some interesting jobs outside of the work with Patagonia: commercial and editorial photo
shoots, and working as a specialty operator on TV commercials, TV shows, and films. The work
was really wide in scope, with a lot of travel, which was a lot of fun. I generally got hired for
strange jobs that required special skills, such as climbing, diving, shooting in remote locations, or where they needed someone who could take on a lot of different roles, such as directing, DPing, shooting still photographs, and VR.

During your career, how many hats have you worn to get to your level? 
I feel like I have worn every hat along the way, in one form or another, and continue to do so
to this day. I like to be involved in every aspect of the production and understand how it all
works. From technical capture and workflow to the business side of things, and most
importantly, the creative process. The more you know about each aspect of the process, the
better informed your decisions will be. I started out working by myself out of a backpack in
remote locations, so I had to know how to do everything. It’s still like that on small jobs, but as
they scale up in size, I step back—way back.
On the big shoots, we have so many talented people who are really good at their specific
roles. Every person on set really elevates the quality of the work to the next level. At that
point, it’s better to focus on the big picture and bring the vision to life. That usually means I am
just focusing on directing and shooting.

Do you shoot a range of big and small jobs?
Yes, I work on a variety of projects, from solo shoots to large-scale commercial productions with extensive crews, elaborate sets, and all kinds of equipment. I enjoy the opportunity to work across this broad spectrum of production scales. On smaller projects, where it is just me and the subject, the experience is rewarding because it allows me to form a genuine bond with the subject, discover their true selves, and capture those raw, authentic moments. On the other end of the scale, large projects are exhilarating because I’m surrounded by a ton of exceptional resources and talented individuals who collectively enhance the final product. It’s incredibly satisfying to dream up concepts in the pre-production phase of the project and then see them magically come to life. Stepping onto a set and seeing a large, skilled crew in action, all dedicated to realizing the initial vision is always an awe-inspiring moment.

I value both working styles for the distinct benefits they offer. Each approach enriches my skills and informs my practice in the other context. Sometimes, going light and fast while with minimal gear, relying on my instincts, and capturing a fleeting moment is the right call. Yet, even when I have access to an array of equipment, such as lighting trucks, multiple camera units, and cranes, the true essence of my job is to capture the perfect shot. In contrast, working solo allows me to slow down, delve deeper into the craft, and prepare to capture that perfect moment.

This past spring was a prime example. I was out filming some climbing and snowboarding in the backcountry for a few days. We were camping in the snow, lugging around heavy camera equipment, trying to keep batteries warm, all while trying to find a great angle on this rock wall 3,000 feet across the snow-covered valley. It was filmmaking stripped down to the bare essentials. Immediately following that, I headed into directing a big commercial shoot for Chevy that was going to launch the Major League Baseball season. Suddenly, I found myself on a set buzzing with 125 crew members, complete with stunts, performance drivers, and two camera units with incredible DPs leading each unit—a stark contrast to the huge packs we carried in the backcountry shoot a few days ago.

For location shoots, how are you tracking weather, and do you have two treatments you prep? 
Absolutely, our primary challenge was attempting to shoot a spring/summer-themed commercial amidst an ‘atmospheric river,’ a massive rainstorm that became one of the most intense to hit California in decades. This is when our adaptability and problem-solving skills truly came into play. Thankfully, I was part of a team where everyone was not only good at what they did but also collaborated well under pressure.

We encountered a significant setback when mudslides rendered one of our key locations inaccessible. The spot was set in a picturesque valley encircled by mountains—a pivotal scene for the commercial that we had to get. During our lunch break, I had a stunt driver take me in a four-wheel-drive vehicle to survey the damage. The roads were covered in deep mud, and it was immediately obvious that we weren’t going to make it up there. However, we’re in the business of making the impossible possible. We found a ranch hand with a tractor who helped us clear a path so that a pared-down crew could make it up the road. We skipped lunch and pushed our way up the hill. In the meantime, we dispatched the second unit and assistant director to find an alternative location and worked tirelessly to clear the mud. We trimmed the crew down from 125 to only the most essential personnel, who, along with a single Art Director from the agency, barely squeezed into two 4×4 trucks. Time was tight, and we had a lot to accomplish, I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss the epic lighting conditions I knew we were going to get around dusk. Luck was on our side that day, and we managed to capture some fantastic footage.

However, our luck didn’t hold the next day. The forecast warned of relentless rain throughout the day. Our location scout was on it, providing hourly weather updates, yet we had to brace ourselves for the possibility of filming in heavy rain.

That’s exactly the scenario we faced on our last day, where the boards called for a sunny homecoming scene with a BBQ, and instead, we had a river falling from the sky. We put the cast under the front porch of the house to keep them dry, lit the scene to make it look like a sunny, summer day, and constructed a 60-foot plastic tunnel for the truck to drive through to the set. We planned to use VFX to replace the background plates and simulate reflections on the body of the truck.

We adapted, hustled, and made the most of the challenging conditions. The dedication of every crew member, going the extra mile during the five-day shoot, was crucial to our success. Viewing the final broadcast spot you wouldn’t be able to tell that it was shot in a big downpour. And that is the magic of filmmaking!

Who were your inspirations and mentors then and now?
I would say I am most inspired by the natural world and storytelling. I love how every place
and every person has such an interesting, unique story to be told. You can truly find art and
magic everywhere you look in the world. I think it’s a matter of finding that inspiration all
around you.
My biggest mentor has been my mom, who was a Special Education Teacher for 35 years
and a multidisciplinary artist. She was always working on different projects from painting and
Ikebana to quilting and interior design. She really encouraged me to be creative, brave, and
free. As I mentioned earlier, Jane Sievert at Patagonia set me on this wonderful path. My
good friend Ken Merfeld, a photography instructor from the Art Center College of Design, is a
passionate artist with a wicked eye that constantly pushes me to challenge myself as an artist
and take my work to the next level. I am so grateful for all these people and many more who
have been such an important part of this never-ending journey.

The Daily Edit – Emocean


Founder + Creative Director: Thembi Hanify
Co-Founder+ Editor-in-Chief: Mariah Ernst

Heidi: You and your business partner launched Emocean in 2021, what makes this different from other surf print media?
Thembi Hanify: Emocean is different from other printed surf media because it’s one of the few that is owned and published by women: myself (creative director) and Mariah (editor in chief). It’s also one of the few surf mags that features a truly diverse range of people. There are a lot of male-dominated mags out there, and then there are a lot of women-only mags out there, so we felt the need to address this underserviced area where surfers of all different genders, backgrounds, and identities could be seen side by side. We also tend to approach the magazine through more of a human-focused or arts-tinged lens, as opposed to a super shreddy, core surf lens. I drew a lot of inspiration from fashion and culture magazines like i-D, The Gentlewoman, and Apartamento in thinking this up.

Will this themed quarterly magazine always centered around emotion? (Issue 01 Joy, 02 Rage 03 Connection 04 and 05 Fear?
The mag is published twice a year, and yes we will continue to have each issue center around an emotional theme. Spoiler alert: the theme of Issue 06 is ‘love.’

You both have full-time jobs that intersect fashion, culture, and surf.
Why this labor of love for a print project? (which is not dead BTW)

I have always loved print since I was very very young. Big beautiful coffee table books, monthly mag subscriptions, you name it. In today’s environment, we’re bombarded with so many fragments of digital information online that I find it incredibly hard to really absorb any of it. Reading things online generally makes me feel scattered and on-edge. I find that reading a physical, printed object cultivates presence and allows me to slow down and truly pay attention. You really can’t beat that feeling. Also I love the smell of print hahaha. In terms of values, Emocean encompasses the core values that are most important to me—diverse perspectives, relatability, empowerment, and creativity. It feels like these values are much needed in pushing mainstream surf culture forward, so I’m very passionate about what the magazine has to offer.

The Fear cover features a soulful tight portrait of Mario, the co-founder of The cover breaks a historical tenant of portraiture: it lacks reciprocal eye contact but rather celebrates a co-existence. Was that a specific photo direction or did it unfold naturally?
Gala Slater (creative director of the shoot): Well it was really a combination of both things, a carefully planned portrait that I had envisioned using natural debris from the beach that we would find on the day, but the idea was always to have him looking direct camera. I felt drawn to each object we placed over his face, and as he lay there with his eyes closed while we were carefully arranging them, I felt a moment of calm and peace that led us to choose that moment to capture, eyes closed.

Thembi Hanify: As soon as I saw the image I knew it would be an amazing cover. We hadn’t pre-planned that, but it was such a captivating image. The sense of ease and harmony the image gives off represents the flip-side of the coin so to speak of fear. I think with surfing, the goal sometimes is to harness the fear you feel into a harmonious kind of focus that allows you to be very present and zen-like.

I loved the intention behind the styling Un Mar De Colores, which translates to an ocean of colors. The styling team created pieces from found beach waste, thrifted items, and leftover materials from previous projects. What was the premise of the feature on Mario?
Gala Slater: The goal of the feature on Mario was not only to share the story of a person who is doing such incredible work within the surf community and to share his warm soul with the audience but to also visually represent him in a way that he hadn’t been seen before. Mario had done shoots before for some of the bigger outdoors brands and I felt like I wanted to do something less expected, something more artful that married his beautiful exterior to the earth. It felt off to dress him in traditional ‘fashion’ and so I challenged Heather and Logan (both stylists & makers) to see what they could accomplish by using found/discarded materials to make custom pieces for Mario. These materials included metals, rubber, shells, plastic, fabrics, yarn, and more. The results were beautiful and combined with the beach as a backdrop the photos turned out better than I could have imagined.  

How do photographers and writers get in touch with you?
We are always open for submissions! People can email us at to submit their work for consideration in upcoming issues.

Where can we pick up a copy?
You can order a copy of the mag and our special edition merch range on our website. We also have a bunch of stockists across America, and a few international ones in Europe, Indonesia, and Australia.

Now that you’re almost 3 years old, what surprised you the most about this project and your creative growth?
I suppose it’s not a huge surprise per se, but the thing we’ve relished the most is the incredible network of people we’ve become connected with through publishing Emocean. I really see this magazine as a vessel for telling other people’s stories, and were truly honored to be able to do that. Community is everything, and the community we’ve encountered and become a part of throughout this journey of independent publishing has been the most wonderful and invaluable thing of all.
– – – – – – 



The Daily Edit – Nick St. Oegger : The Balkans


Nick St. Oegger

Heidi: What drew you to the Western Balkans to follow the grassroots movement protecting the land from Hydro development?
Nick: I was first drawn to the Balkans about ten years ago after seeing a travel article with beautiful photos of the Croatian coast. All I knew about the region was related to the breakup of Yugoslavia and the wars that followed throughout the 90s, so I was curious to see what things were like now. I became especially interested in Albania, which at the time was completely off the tourist map, though everyone I asked warned me against going because it was “dangerous” and there was “nothing to see”. After I arrived though, I saw how wrong people were. I was completely captivated by the mountains, rivers, and welcoming people who were so eager to share their culture and history with me. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

This feeling only continued as I traveled on through Montenegro, Bosnia & Herzegovina, and Croatia. I couldn’t believe how beautiful nature was, it was so contrary to what I had expected to find based on my visual references from the region. It was only when I returned home and started doing some research that I discovered how much of this nature was under threat from hydropower development, deforestation, industry, and pollution. I also discovered there was a dedicated group of activists, scientists, and ordinary citizens from around Europe, who were coming together under the Save the Blue Heart campaign to try to protect the region’s waterways. I felt this was a really positive and different story that I could tell from the region.

That region has been largely defined by conflict, how are you using photography to change that narrative?
When I started showing people photos from my initial trip to the region, they also couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. Their conception of places like Albania or Bosnia & Herzegovina was very dark, and I quickly realized how much of it was based on chaotic imagery of the conflicts from 20-25 years ago. Even people from the region were surprised and touched when I showed them my photos as if they were seeing the beauty of their countries for the first time through my outside perspective.

I think it’s a shame that certain countries or regions in the world become associated with conflict, and remain that way long after the fighting has stopped. Using photography to highlight more positive aspects like unique cultural practices, or the beauty of places like the Vjosa River, helps to change the visual reference points of a region. I’ve seen the positive impact this can have in places like Albania, which is finally experiencing a huge tourism boom because people are seeing such beautiful imagery of the country on Instagram or TikTok. I think this also helps local people reframe how they think about these places too when they see more and more foreigners coming to enjoy nature in their countries.

What can you tell us about this untamed river that runs from source to sea?
I remember seeing the Vjosa on my first trip to Albania and being simply awestruck by the bright blue colour, and the way the river curved through the landscape in a way that I had never seen. I didn’t know at the time that it was one of the last wild rivers in Europe, but I could tell right away that there was something unique about it, something very different from other rivers I had seen in Europe.

How long were you working on the Vjosa project?
It’s been about seven years now since I started following the story of the Vjosa. Initially, I made several trips along the course of the river during 2017, which became a project that I self-published as a photo book, Kuçedra. At the time it seemed inevitable that the river would be dammed, so I wanted to create a photographic record of the landscapes and people along the river before it would all be changed forever. That same year though, activists scored their first victory by blocking the construction of one of the large dam projects on the river, which was a huge positive turn in the story. I continued following events as they developed, joining scientists as they conducted research along the Vjosa, watching as more court rulings were in favor of local activists, and talk of declaring a national park moved closer to reality. I developed really close relationships with the people fighting for the river, and with the river itself, so it became a very personal story for me, one that I wanted to keep following up on.

Can you share a bit about what it meant to cover the moment when Albania’s 118-mile Vjosa river inched closer to being permanently protected?
It was a very emotional and important moment to cover the declaration of the Vjosa Wild River National Park. In this industry, you don’t always have the luxury of following a story for so long and don’t always get to see a positive outcome either. It was amazing to see the hard work that my friends and colleagues had put in for over a decade finally pay off, and also to feel that I had played a part in this fight by publishing and exhibiting my photographs of the Vjosa. It was a moment when you could really grasp the importance of collaboration and resilience amongst so many diverse people, who all played their part in trying to protect this really unique environment.

Congratulations on your British Journal Of Photography: Decade of Change Award, what drew you to climate change and social impact work?
Thank you! It was an honor to be recognized by the British Journal of Photography for my work around climate change, because I think it highlights just how important this topic is at the moment, and it has given me another platform to raise awareness about the unique nature in the Western Balkans, and the people fighting to protect it. This topic has always been something close to me, as I grew up spending a lot of time in nature with my grandfather, who was a climber and avid environmentalist. He taught me a lot about nature and instilled this great sense of awe and responsibility in caring for the environment. When I started my career in visual storytelling, I felt naturally drawn towards stories about the environment, and people’s complex relationship to it.

What projects are you working on now?
At the moment I’m working on a National Geographic Society-funded project about river conservation in Bosnia & Herzegovina. I’m specifically looking at how the grassroots movement to protect rivers is uniting communities around Bosnia that were previously in conflict. It’s a great opportunity to build on my previous work with the Vjosa and to share another positive story from the region. I’ll be finishing the project early next year, and am looking forward to sharing and exhibiting the work shortly after that.

The Daily Edit – Sara Hylton: National Geographic


A local carries fishing nets, made of plastic materials, which are often used only a few times and then disposed of, on May 14, 2019.
The ghats of the Ganges in Patna, Bihar on November 15th, 2019.
Vinod Sahni along with his family members and helpers prepare for an evening of fishing out along the Ganges. They spent several hours this day repairing their plastic fishing net before departing from the village of Rasalpur, Dharnipatti, Bihar on Nov. 14, 2019.
Fish for sale at a local fish market in Ayeshabag on May 16, 2019.
Sita Ram Sahni’s grandchildren play at their home in a makeshift swing in the village of Rasalpur, Dharnipatti, Bihar on Nov. 17, 2019.
Sita Ram Sahni’s grandchildren attend school in the village of Rasalpur, Dharnipatti, Bihar on Nov. 16, 2019.
Young boys play near a pond close the Meghna River on May 14, 2019.
Babu Sahni, 30, and his son Himanshu Kumar Sahni, 8, fish along a bank scattered with waste on the Punpun river, a tributary of the Ganges in Fatuha, Bihar, on Nov. 19, 2019. T
A wholesale flower market in Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh on Nov. 23, 2019. The majority of these flowers are sold for religious purposes and though many vendors use cloth bags, some flowers and garlands being sold contain plastic ornamentation.
Rajan Baba, a sadhu, poses for a portrait at Manikarnika ghat, his main location of meditation in Varanasi, India on Nov. 25, 2019. Rajan Baba believes that nowadays “people are spending less time exploring god and more time chasing after things…I’ve been born and brought up in Banaras, a lot has changed…[the Ganges] used to be much wider…as the waste has increased, the water has shrunk…what else would I want but that the water becomes clean again?” he said.
Municipal employees collect waste from Manikarnika ghat, the main cremation ghat in the holy city of Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh on Nov. 26, 2019. The cremation site runs 24 hours a day and hundreds of bodies are cremated. The ritual of cremation relies on textiles often made of synthetic fibers and religious offerings and garlands containing plastic. Though the municipal corporation collects some of the waste, much of it still ends up in the Ganges. President Modi has committed to cleaning up Varanasi, his constituency, but many believe that the clean-up is just surface level. However, according to municipal employees, some of the solid waste collected along the ghats is taken to the Karsada waste-to-energy plant, waste that is converted to electric power.
The ghats of the Ganges river in Haridwar, Uttarkhand, India on Dec. 7, 2020.
At Maitri Sadan ashram in Haridwar, Uttarakhand, India.
Swami Shivanand bathes and prays at the Ganges.
Har Ki Pauri ghat in Haridwar, Uttarakhand at sunrise.


Photographer: Sara Hytlon
National Geographic: Visual Story Editors: Alice Gabriner and Dominique Hildebrand.

The team of scientists and researchers was led by two incredible women (and the team itself was mostly women). More information on the Ganges: Sea to Source expedition can be found here

Heidi: You were in India for 12 years, what brought you there?
Sara: I was in the middle of studying a Master’s degree when my father passed away suddenly. I knew he would have wanted me to finish my degree, so I pressed on without really having the time to grieve or process what had happened. When I completed my studies, my best friend and I decided to travel to India for a few weeks. We were both going through big transitions in our lives, and we wanted to travel somewhere that took us out of our element and gave us some space. Funny, India doesn’t have much space. The idea of going to India during a crisis is an absolute cliché and I knew that from the start, but the Western notion of India is partly true, it is a very magical and spiritual place, and I say that while also acknowledging its deep issues and biases. I had planned on spending three weeks.

Were you planning on staying that long; did you speak Hindi?
I had no idea that this initial visit would involve me meeting two loves of my life – a man and photography. I had no plan to live there or spend long in South Asia. But it was a place that understood life and death in a way that made a lot of sense to me. The way South Asians see the world is both incredibly practical and poetic all at once. I felt completely thrown into chaos, but also held. I was hooked. I slowly built my photography practice, and my network to a point where I felt I could really make it my home. I have taken intensive Hindi classes over the years and used my broken understanding of the language to delve deeper into the culture. It was always one of the things that bothered me the most though – that I could never get to a place with my Hindi where I could make jokes or get angry. Indians have such great, cinematic humor. 

What did you learn about reverence for the Ganges?
When the roots of a culture believe that everything is a manifestation of God, and even the Ganges is revered by Hindus as a Goddess, how do you begin to visualize something that is believed to be so sacred and yet practically environmentally vulnerable? And how does one reconcile their own conditioning and culture so they can really see it? 

I’ve learned that the concept of “progress” and time is completely different. In the West, we are always rushing to get to the finish point, to have something to show for our efforts so we can quickly move onto the next thing. We miss the whole process of getting there. I have felt that so often in India while working. That if I do this one thing, this other thing must happen as a result. It just does not work that way. Nothing is linear, people aren’t there when you think they’re going to be there, and everything is basically an unknown. People don’t have time for you and you are not that important. But once they start to trust you and maybe even like you, they would give you the shirts off their back. It’s honestly the most humbling place I’ve worked. You are constantly being challenged on a professional and granular level. Broken down until your ego is nothing. And that’s when you start to make the work that matters. It’s a beautiful thing. So I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is that if you show your patience and your authenticity, the thing that you need will happen, but probably not when, or the way you expect it to. Also, never refuse a cup of chai or prasad, you’ve ruined it already. 

Your last project for National Geographic was three years in the making and so much terrain to cover. What were some of the adventurous moments/biggest obstacles that you encountered? India is so full of rich surprises especially with COVID and the political unrest.
Traveling across the Ganges through Bangladesh and India was one of the most memorable projects I’ve ever worked on. We went through some terribly rough waters in Bangladesh because of cyclones. At one point, the bottom of our boat started to flood with water and it was so rocky people were getting sea sick. Then there was the extreme heat waves where we could only work very early in the morning and late at night, it was actually quite dangerous if we tried to push it. Then there were the absolute moments of elation and joy where the team would dance to Punjabi music under the rain and laugh hysterically. As a freelance photographer I’m really used to working alone, but this was such a different type of project that started off with a group of female scientists that I was fairly integrated with. We traveled a lot of the time together and this made navigating the adventures and challenges a lot less daunting. My favorite moment on the trip was when I was in a small village outside of Patna, Bihar (about a four hour drive) and my film camera broke. I didn’t have a backup with me, but miraculously someone from Mumbai (where I was living at the time) was able to transport the backup to Patna, and exchange the broken camera to get fixed. I ended up with both cameras in a few days, but it was a terrifying moment.

Were there any circumstances/interactions that moved you the most while making the work? India has a way of exploding your heart.
There are way too many moments to count. That’s what I miss about India the most. When you’re feeling hardened, angry, assertive, something always happens that just blows your heart wide open and you are instantly reminded of your humanity. Oh, I remember a funny moment when I was bitten by a baby goat and everyone went out of their way to make sure I was okay and even found me a doctor to get rabies shots. Then there was the time where me and my collaborator were in a village and it became very late at night (and we had quite a drive ahead), a mere stranger who knew nothing about us offered us a bed to sleep on and gave us chai in the morning. The stories are endless. I was constantly astounded by the generosity of people and lack of pretension. India has my heart and always will.

There are both advantages and disadvantages of being a westerner in India. You certainly earned trust for your portraits, Demigods of India. How did that project develop/evolve?
I had been wanting to do something with the Hijrah community in India for many years but I think I didn’t have the courage or the understanding of the community to really do it with integrity. I had spent several months meeting with NGO’s and organizations that worked with the community across Mumbai. Two helpful friends and amazing photographers – Zishaan Latif and Anushree Fadnavis – helped me navigate the project, and it wasn’t until I had their help that I really felt it was possible to make photos with sensitivity. Anushree was particularly experienced and was so generous in her willingness to help with translating and gaining access with the first community I worked with. At first the community was fairly closed off and ambivalent about photography, so I showed up and visited often before I even began to make photos. I met one really special person, Radhika, who was the gateway to the rest of the community. Radhika trusted me, and so others trusted her. It was quite a long process, getting to the point of making portraits. But I think curiosity and showing up goes a long way.

Being a Westerner is helpful at times because folks become as curious about you as you are them. But that can only go so far. They must feel your integrity and your heart, and that can take a long time to build. The disadvantages are of course language and commonality. Being a woman is particularly tough, but in this instance, I think it helped because I could spend time just sitting in people’s homes without too many concerns.

What have you been working on recently?
I’m based in Brooklyn, New York now and continue to focus on environmental issues and vulnerable communities, especially related to water. I’m working on a multi-year project through an Explorer grant from National Geographic Society and the Royal Canadian Geographical Society on the sanctity and scarcity of water among First Nations communities in Canada. I’ll be traveling to Nepal in a couple of months to work on another grant about faith and conservation, and I’m also really excited to be working with some brands and outlets whose values really align with my own, including Patagonia and the New York Times.



The Daily Edit – Conveyor Studio

Conveyor Studio

Co-founder & Creative Director: Christina Labey

Co-founder & Production Manager: Jason Burstein

Heidi: You recently published a gorgeous book Moemoeā by Brendan George Ko, along with photography the book included unique type design, illustration, and an essay. What was the essence of creative direction as the photography honors sharing Polynesian knowledge of celestial navigation.
Christina and Jason: When we start a project, I always ask the artist to provide their inspiration as a point of departure for my research rabbit hole on the creative direction. One of Brendan’s inspirations for making this project was a book called Vikings of the Sunrise by Te Rangi Hiroa, so when we started the project I bought a beautiful hardcover copy on eBay. We used the lettering and illustrations from this as a point of departure, alongside a haul books and ephemera we’d recently bought at a used bookshop in Hawaii.

Our designer Elana Schlenker brilliantly suggested that we commission Sophy Hollington—who uses linocut, a relief printmaking process—to create the lettering and illustrations throughout. The geometric patterns on the covers of The Spell and The Story were inspired by Hawaiian tapa designs, a form of printmaking typically made from hand-carved bamboo stamps. In The Story booklet, instead of page numbers we used the phases of the moon to illustrate the passage of time through the book as a nod to celestial navigation and tracking time though natural elements. The illustrations are set in a vibrant vermilion that echoes the color of Hōkūle‘a’s sails and Hawaii’s iron-rich volcanic soil.

The book includes a wire bound and a singer sewn booklet. Why did you choose these particular binding styles for the two parts The Story and The Spell? From the start, we knew the book would have a hardcover case but wanted to something that felt unique to the project, so we chose to wire bind The Spell to give the feeling of a nautical logbook. Practically, we wanted an option that would lay flat and allow us to occasionally insert iridescent paper stock to emulate the sheen of the ocean’s surface or the night sky.

For The Story, the booklet reminds me of a small field guide or scrapbook that provides an objective and historical account after The Spell, which is more of an experiential book. The singer sewn binding allowed us to bring some color into the binding edge and the center spread, it also recalls the color and stitching of Hōkūle‘a’s sail which appear as the opening image.

Roughly, how many books do you create and print annually since you are a bespoke studio honoring craft?
We publish two or three artist books each year in addition to Mercuria, an experimental magazine that explores art and science in chapter form. We typically release one book with an artist we haven’t published before, this takes form in a more ambitious, research-based project that includes significant text and custom design elements. The other books are usually something a little more informal, little to no text, and experimental from one of the artists on our publishing roster.

We went on a bit of a hiatus during the pandemic, it was ideal for reflection and research, but not so great for connecting with our artists, editors, and designers. There is something irreplaceable about in-person design meetings, creative brainstorming, pulling out all the material swatches, and reviewing proofs and prototypes together.

In retrospect, the long pause was beneficial because I allowed myself to embrace the fact that I work slowly. I put a lot of time and thought into each project, when there are a lot of events I feel the pressure to launch new things, but once you publish something it’s forever. Our books will outlive us in libraries and collections, so it’s important that I feel happy with it, and most importantly that it represents the artist’s project in the best possible way. This was the case with Moemoeā, which slowed pace during the pandemic and ultimately took an extra two years because we wanted to commission an essay to include historical and cultural context, we also added a lot of extra production embellishments. In the end, I’m so happy we waited until it felt completely right.

Same Sum is a lovely interactive book full of surprises, what were the challenges with the unique shuffling of the sequences?
It was a really strange experience to try and sequence a book that would also be sequenced by both the reader and by chance as every shuffle and flip-though is bound to be different. It started with the initial edit, narrowing it down to 120 photographs from 400. I find that as an editor you become really familiar with a photographer’s patterns, compositions, and motifs, you start to see how they experience the world through their camera and then present that to the reader. The edit embraces the patterns I find in Peters photographs and lay the groundwork for the reader to make their own connections between images. For example, many images have a central circle or strong angles in the composition, certain pops of color that resonate, a repeated spiral theme, or very similar images made moments apart that occur several times on different panels of the book. It seems random, but it was very considered.

The challenge came when we started to print proofs and prototypes, after I finished a sequence we would immediately print and bind it because it wasn’t possible to experience it on screen, no matter how much we mocked it up to mimic the real thing. We went through five or six rounds of sequencing this way: revise, print, bind, flip, repeat. When we were on press with the final, there were still surprises that popped up from the fact that one book was bound on the left, the other on the right, which shuffled the images further and blew our mind a bit.

What inspired this type of book?
When Peter pitched this project to me, it included 400+ photographs culled from his daily life that were both mundane and magical. He’d experimented with different ways of installing them and was curious if we could make a book from the project. When we begin a new book, the artist fills out a questionnaire—brilliantly created by our long-time collaborator Liz Sales for I Write Artist Statements—so we can identify the themes at the heart of the project before putting together a design proposal. In describing the project, he said “I’ve never been able to effectively lay out the entire deck, extras are always left in small bundles on the table, so while every picture is tangibly together the contents of all pictures are not visible. In this way, the project feels like an epic deck of cards that can never be fully dealt.”

From that moment, I knew I wanted to nod to magic tricks and a card deck, there is a certain sleight of hand that goes into framing and photographing. I also liked how he described the process as a cycle of practice and playing feeding off one another, this made me think of spiral binding and the double-bound format was inspired in part by Amber Gambler by Dylan Nelson.

We published Peter’s debut monograph Half Wild, so I knew this could be a more playful sequel since our audience was already familiar with his work. I also knew that he would be open to experiment with format so long as it doesn’t distract from the heart of the project or the photographs—a principle that is important in all of our publications.

How does the digital age intersect with your work?
The digital age is what makes this all possible, from the Indigo (our digital offset press, which allows us to print books essentially on demand) to social media for sharing our projects or collaborating remotely with artists and contributors. But it does feel like the hours are spent on the screen are endless and never enough, from answering emails, designing books, researching projects, and documenting our work (studio photography and a lot of retouching). We have an amazing team, but we are also still a small studio, so we are hands-on with all aspects!
I think this affects our personal life in that we are drawn to activities that don’t revolve around the screen, our weekends or travels revolve around being immersed in nature or the studio. Our personal studio practices have also evolved away from digital; our foundation is in photography and even though we both shoot film, there is so much time spent on screen from scanning and retouching to designing books or installation ideas. We find ourselves exploring other more tactile and meditative mediums—woodworking for Jason, watercolor and natural pigments for myself—and also thinking about how they can intersect with photography, for example experimenting with custom frames, different materials, and installation ideas.

How has your own artistic background informed your practices at Conveyor Studio?
In a way, my personal practice and my Conveyor Studio practice are so interwoven that it’s sometimes hard to distinguish, they continue to constantly inform one another. When we opened the studio I was just starting the MFA Photography program at Parsons and only beginning to find the direction of my own art practice. Simultaneously, we started experimenting with publishing and started Conveyor magazine, it was my first experience with editing and curating yet it felt really natural. This idea of arranging started to trickle into my personal work which takes form in installations and artist books that mix of images and text, curated from archives and my own writing and photographs. Whenever I start a new project, I inherently think about it in book format, from scale to tactile and temporal experience.

It happens with research topics too, at some point I became very interested in both science and the metaphysical, so naturally the themes for each issue of Conveyor magazine began to reflect similar topics like Alchemy and Time Travel. This continues even further with Mercuria, which explores art and science and is mercurial in format. I wanted the ability to play with the design and format of each booklet, not fit each issue into the same mold. The next volume is going to have the theme of Botany, which is currently a main focus in my own research. I like to think that if I’m going into it with a lot of passion and excitement, it will reflect and spread to the readers.

I also find that design commissions and our publishing projects, even though they aren’t explicitly my personal work, for experimentation and collaborations that are inspiring. I’m lucky in that I get to choose both my design clients and the projects we publish, and usually there is some kind of overlap in areas of research or interest so that I both learn something from their work and can also bring a uniquely, informed element to their book.

As artists, what compelled you to have a studio that celebrates print?
Jason trained as a darkroom and digital printer at Lightwork while studying at Syracuse. He has an extensive knowledge of color management, this combined with his family’s longstanding history in book design and production in the New York City area, started to carve a clear path toward print. In addition to photography, I studied graphic design and art history, which all lend quite well to publishing.

We started Conveyor Studio in a small annex in the book printing and binding factory in Hoboken, New Jersey. Initially, we were just tapping the resources available to us and dove headfirst into printing, publishing, and even curating exhibitions in the space. In the beginning, it was as much about building a community of artists as it was a love of print, and amazingly those things have just continued to grow together over the last decade.