PACIFIC PALISADES, CALIFORNIA: Cars left behind in driveways following evacuation.

Jay L. Clendenin

Since leaving the Los Angeles Times,  Jay Clendenin has primarily been photographing corporate and commercial projects, mostly in the entertainment world where he spent the majority of his 16 years at the LAT.
“When doing editorial work, I’ve started distributing my news and enterprise images through Getty Images and entertainment work through Shutterstock – all that got turned on its head last week with the merger of these two companies.”

We caught up about his experience covering the LA fires.

Heidi: Please share your thoughts on citizen journalists and what they need to consider.
Jay: The term “citizen journalist” makes me cringe. I am very aware of human behavior and the desire to “know” and “report” what’s happening (in particular when it’s their neighborhood). But there are a couple of significant distinctions between said “man-on-the-street” spreading a “story” and a trained Journalist (capital J) reporting: ethics and facts. It’s true that the Rodney King video (dating myself) was “citizen journalism” and was incredibly impactful on society – unfortunately, not enough to convict?! Where as today, I’m seeing people abusing the homeless with humiliating videos of their circumstances, all in the name of “citizen journalism.” And with the fires, people are sharing wild accusations/aspersions about the number of fire personnel, water supplies, and who happened to be on vacation when the fires broke out. No investigating for facts, just hitting “share” and adding “this has to stop,” as if the things said were facts vetted by credentialed journalists.

You were a staff photographer for the Los Angeles Times where editorial integrity was essential.  How have things changed when stories go unchecked or lack empathy for the crisis?
Being a trained, experienced Journalist as part of a major news organization comes with great responsibility. We try for multiple sources, probe officials for more info, and try to be on the ground to see things first-hand. It is also important to vet people we talk to. During the Palisades fire, after a couple of questions to some people on e-bikes, I realized they did NOT live in the neighborhood, and I said they shouldn’t be riding around amongst the ruins. If they didn’t have bad intentions, they could easily have been accused of it. And thankfully, there are curfews now and they’re making arrests.

LA Magazine and Wired were recently called out for posting illegal drone footage – how has the increase in social media and scooping news impacted traditional media gathering practices?
Drones are an incredible tool that can add a very visceral, immersive effect to story telling. I’ve embraced it, even got my Part 107 license. Part of getting a license and being “legal” is following FAA regulations and local laws. During major disasters, especially fires, a Temporary Flight Restriction (TFR) often goes out, to keep the skies clear for fire and safety aircraft. You don’t fly your drone. Period. When these media outlets choose to run these very “clickable” videos acquired illegally, they encourage the behavior. And for the “haters” on social who love saying “you’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first!” Let me tell you, all of us licensed operators, are VERY aware of the visual impact of these scenes and have interest in capturing the scene with our drone, but we KNOW the safety considerations and are very conscious of the illegal behavior by un-licensed “content creators” and hobbyists.

Explain the danger of flying drones during an active fire of this magnitude while a Temporary Flight Restriction (TFR) is in place.
The near-worst-case-scenario of flying a drone during a TFR happened during the Palisades fire, when a fire righting aircraft hit a drone, damaging the aircraft and knocking it out of commission. Someone’s greater interest in clicks, lead to interrupted fire-fighting capabilities during this horrific disaster. I can’t imagine the anger of homeowners who see that story while they’re praying all the efforts can save their home and community.  Losing the air attack is huge. I was at the top of Mandeville Canyon last night (Saturday) and the fire retardant and water drops did the majority of flame suppression, slowing the growth on the eastern flank. Further update on drone activity and arrests can be read about here. “California authorities say there have been at least 40 incidents in which unauthorized drones have forced firefighting aircraft to pause operations, putting more lives at risk as the fires continue to spread and firefighters on the ground are left without air support.“

What safety considerations have you taken while covering the fires?
I have a fire brush jacket and pants, helmet and goggles. I use n-95 masks, conveniently on-hand after Covid! I don’t have “fire” boots, but wear my Blundstones and try to avoid walking on smoldering piles – they aren’t rated for that high a heat. I also work to only wear cotton items, which is hard these days, as so much of my wardrobe has become nylon/synthetic fibers. Synthetics are much quicker to ignite and I’d rather decrease the chances of melting clothes on my body.

Are you part of a photo collective during a local crisis?
I’m not part of a formal collective, but stay in contact with many photojournalists on assignments, who tend to have more resources available to them. Again, with big events, experienced PhotoJournalists know the ropes and safety is a priority. I’ll ask for best routes to enter areas, etc. It’s also great for hearing about spots that are super sketchy or not easily accessible without additional gear, like a 4×4 vehicle.

How did you get your start in photojournalism?
I started in photojournalism at L.A. Pierce College, running on several fires in the L.A. region in the early 90’s. We had our college paper as an outlet/publication, but also were able to get the Daily News to let us process and print our film, occasionally publish, and always give us replacement roles of film. We weren’t fully-vetted journalists yet, we were training to be. So we were still more reliable than a “citizen journalist.” I don’t want to prevent accurate reporting from being done, but someone who has a big TikTok following, does NOT a journalist make. Reach out to real Journalists, see how they report, what questions they ask. And please stop with the video Supercuts of people’s property burning and using gimble spins, even if you actually did it “by hand” and brag about it. 🤬

Daniel Pullen

Heidi: You started during the tail end of disposable cameras and analog creativity—how did that impact your early career? 
Daniel I started with disposable cameras, then eventually moved on to a point-and-shoot and then an SLR. Shooting with film was challenging for me; it had a steep learning curve. You would wait weeks to get the film back, only to learn from your mistakes. Additionally, I couldn’t afford a lot of film, so I had to be selective about what I wanted to shoot. You really had to think about what you were photographing. Now, with digital, I often find myself not thinking and just firing away—there’s not even an inkling of thought, just mindless shooting. Forcing myself to slow down is difficult; however, I find that I make better photographs when I take my time. I believe that slowing down works for both photography and life.

Homesick was your first zine, documented on film, followed by Mommicked—both have soul-stirring narratives, why no surf photography?
Homesick was a zine my wife and I put together; they were all shot over a few years using a digital camera. The idea was to highlight aspects of Hatteras Island that I would miss the most or things that are dear to me. There are very few surf photos, but the ocean is prevalent in the zine. Surfing is obvious; however, I didn’t want it to revolve around surfing. There is so much more to life here than just surfing. Hatteras Island is incredibly dynamic, and putting surfing prominently in my work would have pigeonholed it. A couple of years later, we released Mommicked. Mommicked is about living through and navigating heavy weather here on Hatteras and how it impacts our community. Once again, even though surfing is the obvious focus, I chose to go in the opposite direction—to showcase what truly happens here before, during, and after storms. I guess I moved away from surf photography and fully embraced documentary photography.

How did working with film inform your digital work, if at all?
When I began photography, I was shooting film. Since I wasn’t developing my own work, I had to get it right in the camera, which became ingrained in me: get it right in camera, get it right in camera. That mindset has certainly carried over into the digital side of photography. Although there is more leeway with post-processing, I still aim to do my best in getting it right in camera, which also means less time sitting in front of a computer.
You’ve been photographing dynamic weather for almost 30 years—how did that documentary work evolve into a successful wedding photography business?
Documenting weddings and family portraits provided income to cover my bills and living expenses. Documenting the weather has always been a passion for me, but it never really generated that much income. Even to this day, it doesn’t generate income, but photographing weddings and family portraits gives me the time to shoot the things I’m passionate about (weather/surf) that don’t generate income but feed my soul. I photograph an average of around 40-50 weddings and about 90-120 family portraits a year. This allows me to pursue my passions while managing wedding and portrait numbers, which is definitely a juggling act.

Tell us about the making of this photo from an abandoned rental home and the trajectory that followed.
We are a really small community here, and pretty much everybody knows everybody. You grow up with half the island. It has its faults, but for the most part, it’s great; I love the small-town vibes.
The houses aren’t abandoned; they are rented out by the week. I think, for this particular storm, the people who were supposed to stay at that house were moved to one that wasn’t flooding. My friend Jake Throne posted a video of water pouring into the downstairs area of the house, which had a pool table in the middle of the room. I texted him to ask which house it was. I knew it was in a general area but wasn’t sure which particular house it was.

The next morning, I went out with my daughter and entered the house I thought Jake was talking about, but it turned out to be a completely different one. When we went in, the pool table was racked; someone had already played and set it back up. My daughter broke the balls, and I snapped a few pictures of her playing pool. I then asked her to step out of the frame so I could take a few empty shots. There wasn’t a danger of getting arrested for trespassing, just the potential for a tongue-lashing for being in a rental house. We yelled before stepping inside to see if there were any renters there, but it was empty.

There is a massive rental home industry here on Hatteras Island and the Outer Banks as a whole. When I was a kid growing up here, there weren’t many houses on the beach. The rental property industry exploded in the 80s and 90s, with very few zoning laws to keep things in check. Thank God for the Park Service and the National Park, or else every square inch of the island would have been developed. Homes weren’t necessarily built on the beach, but over time, they have ended up there due to island migration, erosion, and sea level rise. Now, there are rows of houses in each village that are in danger of being destroyed by the ocean. When it’s calm here, the views from the houses are great, and the proximity to the beach makes for a short walk to the ocean. However, that doesn’t translate well when we have a storm.

I snapped about 10-15 frames, was in the house for about 5 minutes, then left. I shared the image on Instagram, and within 24 hours, an editor from Time Magazine reached out to me. It was initially supposed to run in a climate change issue but ended up as an image in Time’s Top 100 of 2020. It’s surreal to have the image in that collection, especially since it seemed like the world was on fire back then, and the images taken worldwide were incredible. Having a photo in that collection will always be a career highlight for me.

You’re a self-described climate advocate and have been documenting the barrier island, which behaves like a living, breathing piece of land. When did you start to see catastrophic changes, and what are your hopes for this body of work?
I live on a barrier island off the coast of North Carolina. It is a sandbar—a thin strip of sand located 30 miles out in the Atlantic Ocean. It’s a wild place. Barrier islands are supposed to migrate over time from east to west. When you take something as dynamic as a barrier island and place static structures on it, like roads and houses, conflict is bound to arise over time. It’s a slow process, but it currently appears to be happening rapidly; this has been building up over the past 40-50 years. Houses are falling into the ocean, and roads are washing out. That has always happened here, but due to the way homes were built in proximity to the ocean, we are witnessing drastic changes. I think we have lost about six houses this year due to island migration, erosion, and sea level rise, and the road has washed out numerous times. As for houses collapsing, there has definitely been a shift over the past couple of years, and it is only going to get worse. I don’t have a specific plan for what will happen with the photos I am creating about these storms, but for now, my aim is to tell the story of how our community is dealing with these weather events. If my work can somehow inform policy changes related to zoning laws and educate people about how barrier islands function, I suppose that would be the long-term goal. At some point, I would selfishly like to create an updated version of Mommicked.

You grew up in Buxton, NC, home to the famed Old Lighthouse Beach, the spot where East Coast pro surfing was born. Russell Blackwood, a great surfer and photographer, was a friend and mentor and he passed down advice along with his old Nikonos V camera. Years later, Russell’s son, Wolfi, named you as one of his mentors. What does that say about the Cape Hatteras community?
Daniel: I wouldn’t say I’m one of Wolfi’s mentors, but we are good friends. I got to see Wolfi grow up and was there for his first attempt at paddling out at big Lighthouse and getting denied. I’ve witnessed him turn into an amazing surfer, charging the Lighthouse at its absolute rawest. We still surf together—me, Wolfi, and his dad. Wolfi and his wife are expecting a girl in a couple of months, starting a family of their own. It’s super odd to think that our kids will grow up together since I have a 20-year-old, an 18-year-old, and a 1-year-old. Our community is incredibly tight-knit. We are small, and for better or worse, we experience our community’s highs and lows. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Best career advice?
I wish I would have gotten this advice when I first picked up a camera (but I prolly wouldn’t have listened)…over 30 years ago.
Buckle up….
Compose and wait.
Create photos that resonate with the heart.
Do what it takes, do the work.
Be honest with yourself.
Don’t take the easiest safest path.
Technical has to be automatic…like breathing.
Make your work personal.
Look beyond the obvious.
Compose and wait…(needs to be said again and again and again)
Work the scene.
Trust your gut.
In every situation there is opportunity for a great photograph.
Always shoot with a purpose.
Show the truth.
Success does not give you knowledge, failures do.
Start appreciating things around you.
A moment can change your life.
Great photography is always on the brink of failure.
In any given moment…we have two options…to step forward into growth…or step back into comfort…

And worst?
Probably when I was starting to shoot surf photos.
you need to shoot really tight.
You have to shoot surfing a certain way…
Looking back it was so cookie cutter…but I get the advice…it was a way to help you produce surf images that fit into a narrative or into the pages of a magazine or website…
But leaves absolutely no room for growth or creativity

New York Times

Photographer: Haiyun Jiang
2022 -2023 The New York Times Fellowship Recipient – Washington, D.C. 

Heidi: You created Grassroots, a magazine that focused on individuals involved in the different aspects of the 2018 midterm election. What trends did you notice then, and how were they represented in this 2024 election cycle?

Haiyun: When I created Grassroots for a class assignment at Ohio University, I felt the momentum from local Democrats, as well as women, to run for public office at a local level, after almost two years into Donald Trump’s first presidency. I was interested in how local elections reflected a national sentiment or lack thereof. I followed Erica Crawley, a black single mother who was running for Ohio State Representative at the time, on her campaign.I covered both former President Donald Trump’s and Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaigns on and off for this election cycle, and from my experience I felt a stronger sense of urgency from both sides to get their candidates elected to the White House, more so than the 2018 midterm election.

Did your photography approach change as the election and divides became more unpredictable?
I am constantly trying to learn and refine my photographic approach on every assignment, and the learning will never stop. I freelance for the New York Times for the majority of the time and the Times always is on a mission of searching for unique, revealing, fair, and strong visuals to inform its readers. And that mission requires photographers, like me, to find new ways to illustrate mundane situations. I think it’s more the sense of providing readers with information and scenes I see in the field that helps refine the photographic approach than the election itself. The image you were thinking was made after the first attempted assassination of the former president. I have seen lots of photos of snipers as a sign of heightened security around Donald Trump’s rallies from my colleagues and I was trying to make frames that could offer a bit of larger context. The election and divides might have become more eruptive but the bottom line for my photographic approach has always been and will always be remaining fair to whomever I may cover.

Did you pre-visualize this image? or was this a surprise moment for you?
I was assigned to document former president Donald Trump’s rally in Grand Rapids, Michigan, right after the Republican National Convention in July, 2024. After a while, I started walking around the “press pen”, where all my colleagues from different media outlets were typically confined at rallies. When I noticed a glare from the stage, I stopped and observed for a bit. I wondered what the rally attendees, who were sitting at this exact angle towards the podium, could see with the glare. Then I made the photo.

How did this election coverage challenge you as a photojournalist?  or what made this one different?
This election, in many senses, has been an unprecedented one. With the current president dropping out after the first presidential debate and the vice president having to scramble together a campaign that helped reintroduce herself to the nation, nothing was ordinary. It challenged me to be adaptable and flexible, having a sense of knowing things may happen super fast and being ready for anything. Physically, especially, it could be exhausting for photojournalists to hop from place to place, and still remain focused and creative on every assignment. My mentors and colleagues, Doug Mills, Erin Schaff, and Kenny Holston, spent on average 12-14 hours a day following a candidate across multiple states. I think the human resources and effort into this campaign were remarkable.

What were the most salient points Doug Mills, whose been photographing presidents since 1983 shared with you and why is it important to have a mentor?
One of the most important lessons I learned from Doug is not to dwell on your mistakes. Learn from them, then move on to the next thing. Also, do not be afraid to take risks. Instead of getting the “safe shots” that everyone else is making, do something or go somewhere different. It is a tough business to be an editorial freelancing photographer. There are very few staff jobs available and I am very, very fortunate to be able to work consistently on editorial assignments. Having a mentor has helped me navigate the photojournalism industry and get feedback often. And Doug Mills couldn’t be any more nicer, wiser, and generous towards younger photographers like me. I am very lucky to have him as a mentor.

Can you share thoughts about your process for covering the election?

My process of covering the election, again, was mostly informed by the NYT’s mission in searching for strong and unique visuals that help provide the readers more context. Therefore, when I covered campaign events, I was trying to keep an eye on details, subtle moments, etc. that might have been overlooked.
For the most part, when I covered candidates, I either joined them on the tarmac as they landed in the city of a rally or campaign events, or I did preset at the rally venue. There usually was not much of a location scouting for me, per se, before events actually started. I would have some ideas of photographs that I would like to make but also need to constantly remind myself to be alert and flexible as anything could change in a split second. I finished my year-long NYT fellowship at the end of May in 2023 and have been freelancing since then. I am extremely fortunate to have continued working for the Times, but most of the campaign coverage I have done was during my time as a freelancer.

Can you share the mood, your approach, what it was like photographing VP Harris?
The SNL photos are more of moments from a photo spray than a project. As VP Harris finished a campaign rally in Charlotte, North Carolina, and was scheduled en route to Detroit, Michigan, the traveling press was told midway through the flight that we were making an unscheduled stop in New York City. After holding for more than three hours, the traveling photographers were brought into the SNL studio and when Vice president Harris took the stage, we were given the time of the cold opening to photograph her interacting with comedian Maya Rudolph. Audience members erupted as they saw her on stage and the mood was jubilant.
When I photographed VP Harris, I was always trying to find moments that she was more introspective, not performative. I would try to educate myself about the news of the day and observe how it affects the mood of hers, as well as her campaign’s.

What is a photo spray?
A photo spray is when press photographers are brought into an event or meeting for a short period of time to photograph. It can range anywhere from 10 seconds to 5 minutes.

Where were you on election night and what was your assignment? Take us to that moment – what was going on in your mind as the results rolled in?
I was assigned to photograph Republican presidential nominee, now president-elect Donald Trump’s election watch party at the West Palm Beach Convention Center. There were supporters of Mr. Trump trickling in throughout the night, wearing his signature red “Make America Great Again” hats, and lining up at mini bars for drinks. There were many TV news outlets and photographers on a riser and on ladders at the back of the ballroom where the watch party took place. The mood was jubilant among the crowds as the election results rolled in. Many news reports stated that we wouldn’t know the election result on election night but I was prepared for anything that might happen. It was incredibly fast as the results rolled in and the crowds’ mood improved significantly. I thought to myself that there was a good chance that we would know the result tonight and Mr. Trump would take the stage once his margin of victory widened more. Therefore, I was keeping an eye on the movements on stage as well as the TV screens.

What moments were you looking for that evening and what stood out to you during those subtle times?
As news coverage as the election results rolled in I was looking for moments of either despair or jubilation among former president Donald Trump’s supporters, depending on how the electoral map looked. More importantly, I tried to keep an eye on more subtlety, people chatting, taking a moment for themselves, etc.
At the end of the election night, after president-elect Donald Trump’s remarks and his supporters exited, I noticed workers of the convention center started cleaning up the plastic cups as well as other trash discarded on the floor. I photographed the workers bending over to pick up trash, with the America-themed lights as background.

Photographically covering an election requires a range of elasticity and neutrality for your own personal feelings, how do you stow that away?
When I am working, I am focused on making photos that help illustrate a story and identify moments that sometimes writers may have overlooked; and I’l fairly good at compartmentalizing. When I am off, I do not spend time thinking about work and instead, I focus on my hobbies, such as Legos and reading. As a journalist, I remain neutral to whomever I may cover and my number one goal has always been fair coverage. It is not my job to insert my personal feelings to make the public feel certain ways. My job is to be their eyes and bring photos to the audience for information consumption.

How do you take chances or risks to convey a point of view?
When I see a photo with potential, I would stick with the frame. I may miss other photos but it’s a risk worth taking. For example, the snipers photo at Mr. Trump’s rally that you mentioned, took five minutes for me to be in the same spot, to get the right symmetry and composition. That means I might not have photographed the candidate himself or his supporters behind me during that five minutes. That being said, I always photograph with both of my eyes open, so I could see peripheral movements while photographing.

Photographer: Tyler Lekki

Heidi: How long have you been living in Chaltén?
Tyler: I have been on and off for around 5 years now. It all started with a three-day trip, and then the following year, I returned for the entire three-month climbing season. Each year, I returned for the season February – April, and finally, two years ago, I pulled the trigger on moving here full-time. It’s been around 1.5 years straight and over 2.5 years cumulative. I just can’t get enough of this place.

Do you study local flora and fauna to see the changes year after year?
Yes, I have spent 5 fall seasons here in Chaltén over the years, and it’s fascinating to see the difference in when the leaves on the Lenga and Ñire trees begin to change to their fall colors. On my first trip, we didn’t even plan for the fall foliage back in 2018, but we were here during the perfect week—it was April 4th, and the colors were at their peak. It’s interesting that I’ve seen the colors last until late April and even into early May, depending on the season. It really does vary from year to year.

How did you integrate with the community?
It took a few seasons to really get involved with the locals. Coming here only for the Autumn photo season, and good weather, it was tough to meet people because I was always out in the mountains hiking and shooting. It wasn’t until I really moved here and spent the winter season that I felt my experience changed. Getting involved with the local Asado cookouts and getting to know the climbing and ski community, who go to the mountains every chance they get, was really special during my first winter season. It’s a small community, and everyone knows each other. I love that everyone helps each other and is always there to lend a piece of gear or help with beta when needed. The climbing community has welcomed me with open arms, and while I’m still getting more experience, I feel at home among them. We all share the same love for these peaks, and being present and lending a hand when needed goes a long way in this place.

How has your love of nature informed your eye, and when did 360-degree photography enter your kit?
When I first started, it was all about the adventure, and my love for nature grew deeper as time went on. The idea of hiking into a place like Los Glaciares National Park with everything you need to survive for a week, all to capture dramatic photos, is what truly excites me. There’s an element of unpredictability—you never really know what’s going to happen. Chasing the right weather conditions has made me appreciate this place even more. Through a lot of trial and error, I’ve learned what to look for when capturing images here.

One day, while flying my drone, I realized that a 180-degree panorama just wasn’t wide enough to capture the full scope of the landscape, so I decided to try a 360-degree shot. I had no idea at the time that this would become my obsession over the next two years.

Still images offer a moment and leave the rest up to the viewer—360-degree photography is immersive and allows anyone to travel. What were you trying to convey with this work?
When I first started taking 360 images, I didn’t initially think about how impactful they would be when viewed through a VR headset. But the first time I experienced it, I realized the incredible potential it had. You’re not just looking at a photograph—you’re transported into the scene, feeling like you’re truly there. The ability to bring people to these remote places especially those who might never have the chance to visit in person, is something really special.

While sharing photography has always been rewarding, seeing someone’s reaction when they put on the headset and are fully immersed in the landscape is on another level. It’s deeply gratifying and makes all the effort worthwhile. Beyond the immediate experience, I believe these 360 shots will serve as valuable references for years to come, particularly in glaciology and environmental research. They document the glaciers and landscapes in a way that traditional photos can’t, showing the impact of climate change on these mountains over time. This work is not just about capturing beauty—it’s about creating an immersive, educational experience that can inspire a deeper connection to nature and greater awareness of our environmental challenges.

Was this a straightforward response to the shift towards moving content these days?
After years of doing traditional landscape photography, diving into 360-degree photography felt like a breath of fresh air—something new and exciting to offer. The response has been overwhelmingly positive; people really seem to love the immersive experience it provides.

Once I captured those first few 360 images, I became obsessed with the possibilities and started building an archive of them from all over the Chalten Massif. This technology not only allows people to explore these remote landscapes as if they’re actually there, but it also opens up these incredible places to a much wider audience. The accessibility of these images is what drives my passion for this project—they make it possible for anyone, regardless of where they are, to experience the beauty and majesty of these mountains.

I’d love to hear the backstory about your first climb…
I have been doing novice mountaineering trips for a few years now, slowly learning the skill set. This past May, a good friend, Kiff Alcocer—a fellow North American and experienced climber/mountaineer who also lives here full-time—took me up Cerro Doblado. This was my first time on an ice mushroom. It was a three-day adventure, and we reached the summit with a view over the Patagonia Ice Field that stretches for hundreds of miles. I’m fortunate to have friends who take me to the mountains and to places I wouldn’t yet be able to visit on my own.

Chaltén draws the best alpinists in the world. Tell us about your first experience with friends on the mountain.
It all comes down to the experiences and the people you meet here. I’ve now gotten to know many of the world’s best alpinists who come and go each year, and I’ve realized that they’re all here for the same thing: the love of these unique peaks. Chaltén is a special place, and there’s really nothing like it in the world. My first experience in Chaltén was a three-day trip with a bunch of new backpacking gear in 2018. A friend and I didn’t even know how to set up the tent, but that short trip was all I needed to spark my return. We saw peak fall foliage and even a puma on that first trip, making it very memorable. I didn’t grow up with an outdoor background, so there is alot to learn, especially living here.

How has living in Chaltén pushed you both as a photographer and a newer alpinist?
Chaltén has absolutely pushed me as a photographer. Every spot here has its challenges, and there’s so much to do around here. All of the approaches are long, and with all the gear, there’s been a lot of learning. Plus, Patagonia—and especially this area, Los Glaciares National Park—is known for its crazy, unpredictable weather. Getting your butt kicked by the wind firsthand is really the only way to learn. Chaltén has always taught me that you just have to be out there. You can’t get too comfortable in town; if you want the shots, you’re going to have to go out there and wait for the right conditions. Anything can happen here at any time and you need to be prepared.

What inspired you to spend the winter in El Chaltén?
Winter images, especially with snow-covered peaks, have always held a particular allure for me. There’s something about seeing these mountains dusted with snow that amplifies their beauty. I was especially inspired by an image captured by Dörte Pietron, which featured Rolo Garibotti—a central figure in the climbing community here in Chaltén. This image was from the summit of Domo Blanco during a winter cloud inversion. These happen a few times a year in the winter and to be up there with the inversion above the cloud was something else. It really made me want to spend the winter season and try and capture this spectacle.  Rolo has been an incredible resource for me, always willing to offer weather advice, beta, gear, or just be a friend. His Patagonia Vertical guidebook has been a huge source of inspiration, filled with images from all around the massif that you wont see anywhere else. 

How would you describe your first winter experience in El Chaltén, and how does it compare to the summer season?
My first winter in El Chaltén was truly special. It was during this time that I really got to know the locals and had my first real taste of winter camping. Before this, apart from a few chilly days in autumn, I hadn’t experienced much snow. Teaching myself the ropes of winter camping was both challenging and rewarding. There’s something about winter that I find captivating, the conditions are more dramatic and moody, which adds a unique depth to the landscape.

Last winter, I became obsessed with a spot called Filo del Hombre Sentado (Sitting Man Ridge) on the west face of Cerro Chaltén (Fitz Roy). I made three week-long trips there, and we were blessed with amazing weather, week-long windows with no wind, despite the -20°C temperatures. This spot is particularly special because it lies outside the national park, making it a perfect location to fly the drone. It’s where I created most of my 360 VR series and experienced a few days out there with the cloud inversions of winter. This was the highlight of my season. 

Last winter, I became obsessed with a spot called Filo del Hombre Sentado (Sitting Man Ridge) on the west face of Cerro Chaltén (Fitz Roy). I made three week-long trips there, and we were blessed with amazing weather, week-long windows with no wind, despite the -20°C temperatures. This spot is particularly special because it lies outside the national park, making it a perfect location to fly the drone. It’s where I created most of my 360 VR series. Compared to summer, winter here offers a completely different atmosphere. The solitude, the snow-covered peaks, and the small community of the Ski community makes it really special. 

You’re up in unique and turbulent airspace, how many drones have you crashed? Are you 3D printing any parts (blades)?
The wind is such a challenge here. I’ve learned to study the weather reports and read the wind at different elevations, which has really helped me plan the 360 photos. I’ve crashed around four drones but was luckily able to recover them. It really pays to have insurance from DJI to get a replacement. I’m not using anything special when it comes to drone blades, but I am painting them all bright orange in case of a crash theyre a bit easier to find. I am using a drone that can go up to 1,000 meters, which helps with the height of these peaks.

NIKE SPEED PORTRAITS –  2004

BLANKA  VLASIC – 2009

ANNA BESSONOVA – 2011 

RYAN LOCHTE 2011

MONIKA PYREK 2011

MICHAEL PHELPS – 2011

TREY HARDEE – 2012

CHRIS HOY – 2012

NATHAN ADRIAN – 2013

DAYRA KLISHINA – 2015

KIRANI JAMES – 2015

TIA BROOKS – 2015

KOREAN WRESTLERS – 2018

TAEKYUNG PARK – 2018

GIANNIS ANTETOKOUNMPO – 2019

ANNA HALL – 2023

NOAH LYLES – 2023

Carlos Serrao

Heidi: You shot Super 8 movies and animations in 5th grade – that’s ambitious for a kid!
Carlos: Like many from my generation, the 1970’s and 1980’s’s sci-fi movies like the original Star Wars or Close Encounters were the catalyst into the visual arts. It was the first time seeing all the behind the scenes TV specials and making of stills in magazines like Starlog and Fangoria that showed us kids how these filmmakers problem solved and came up with creative solutions. My early super-8mm films were mostly claymation with sci-fi themes, as well as creating short animated films on subjects like “The Amoeba” for school science fair projects. Everything was shot in sequence in camera until I as able to get my hands on a reel to reel super8 viewer, where I was able to tape spliced scenes together. Later on, I was able to get a Sears branded 35mm Ricoh camera and darkroom kit, and taught myself how to process B&W negatives and printing.

Did you also skate?
Yes. I was heavy into the skate scene in South Florida if you could even call it a scene. This was the era when all the skate parks from the 70’s and early 80’s had all shut down, and no one was paying attention to skateboarding. Skating was mostly underground, on vert halfpipes in backyards, and of course street skating.

How did looking at urban geometric space, sequences, and movement in skateboarding impact your photographic style?
Interesting question…. as skaters, we were always sizing things up that could possibly be used to skate on. Miami didn’t have a lot of those above-ground drainage ditches like they do in the western states, and unless a swimming pool was built pre-Second World War, the transitions were too tight to skate. Because of that, we were always on the lookout for what could work, or what we could scrape together to build. It was the quintessential “Skate and Create” vibe. Also, a few of the backyard ramps we would visit were owned by some of the older guys who were already in high school and just entering college age. Those guys were doing really interesting stuff with photocopy punk skate zines, creating art and photography — the real D.I.Y. stuff. Being exposed to that, really inspired me to pick up a camera and try to emulate what was happening in those zines, as well as the great skate photographers from Transworld and Thrasher magazines like  J. Grant Brittain and Dave Swift.

Fast forward to a 20-year history of photographing Olympic athletes kicked off by shooting Nike’s 2004 Speed Campaign – looking back on that project can you share a few important creative moments?
At that time, I was starting my career, and I wasn’t shooting a lot of sports. I was mostly focused on portraiture and fashion editorials for more independent magazines like Paper Magazine and a few smaller apparel lookbook shoots for brands. At the same time, Nike was starting to hire some fresh, young art directors, and in their words, were moving away from a lot of “runners in fleece photographed motion blurred running thru the forest” imagery from the 1990’s. They were interested in experimenting and creating photography that would be much more aligned with fashion editorials with more of a controlled studio lighting scenario while merging that look and feel with sport. The perception at that time was that “fashion photographers” would shy away from anything that wasn’t deemed “high-end apparel”, and that those sportswear brands were strictly for sports-focused photographers. That impression seemed to shift after the global recession around 2008-2009, when we suddenly started seeing those deemed as higher profile fashion photographers expanding their genre and work for these types of brands. Nowadays, with mutual branding, it’s extremely commonplace.
For the Nike 2004 global Olympic campaign, Heather Amuny-Dey, a young art director at Nike, approached me to collaborate with her on this project. She had seen some of the lighting from a fashion studio shoot I did and thought the look would be a good fit for the creative direction of the campaign.
Six months before we started the Nike Speed campaign, we did a preliminary shoot with a few athletes in the summer of 2003. This allowed us to experiment with the lighting and create a proof of concept for her clients. This portion of the project was shot on film. One thing that I quickly realized, was that these elite athletes only have a finite amount of energy they can expend per day during their rigorous training schedules, not to mention the concern of injury. Because of this, we might only get one, or two takes to capture whatever respective sport action. This limitation helped hone my timing in looking for the athlete’s body’s “tell”, that would happen a faction of a second before the peak of action. We also had to work little hacks with the strobe lighting packs and transmitters available at that time, to achieve the highest flash duration to freeze the action. Because it was shot on film, and also while traveling to different countries, there was a little bit of frustration in waiting a few days to get the film back from a lab before knowing if we had gotten the shot.
The main campaign started ramping up in February 2004, and by that time a few viable digital camera systems had finally hit the market. I had shot with one in the interim on a small fashion brand project, and although I wasn’t fully impressed yet with the color look of the raw files, I thought this would be a perfect tool for the Speed campaign since we could instantly see if we got the shot. The art director had expressed concerns, as she had done a shoot a few months earlier with a different digital system, and the resolution and quality was subpar for their uses. The client requested we do a test shoot with this newer digital system we were proposing. We emailed the test jpegs in real-time during their project meeting in the Portland offices, and after seeing the results, they were sold on this approach. The only stipulation was that we traveled with backup film in case we encountered technical issues. The digital backs at that time were wildly expensive, so we could only afford to lease one to travel with.
Nike had come out with the “speed suit” which was novel in that the apparel is like a second skin that covers the athlete head to toe. We wanted to emphasize the sleek form of the apparel, as well as the musculature of the athletic bodies in action. We explored this by edging the lighting with a hint of a warm, red tone that was focused on the trailing end of the athlete’s body, like a glowing meteor trail. We kept all the action either straight on, or profile to keep the shapes graphic.
We started the shoot in early March of 2004 in a sound stage in Amsterdam. We then continued throughout the US to the various cities that the athletes were training in, then wrapped it up in Paris and London. It was encouraging to hear that all the creative teams back in the Nike global offices were excited and giving great feedback from the sample of images we were sending from the road.

Shortly after that campaign the book: Beauty of Speed featuring 37 global athletes was published by Nike – what was your biggest takeaway from creating that book?
The book was a surprise, as I had no idea they were going to collate all the athletes we shot into a book. I think it was something that wasn’t on the table until the work came back and everyone was stoked on the results.

How did your sport work transcend into fashion and portrait work?
As mentioned above, it was kind of the opposite, as the fashion work first transcended into these early sports campaigns. The only downside was once that campaign came out, clients and photo editors tended to pigeonhole me, and suddenly I was only being considered for the “athlete kicking ball in studio” shoots. It was lucrative and allowed me the budget to continue to learn more lighting techniques, but it took me a while to come across photo editors who could see past the sport angle and realize that the work could be applied to non-sport portrait or fashion photography.

Your use of color and shadow has a surreal, visceral quality (I’m struggling to define it – the viewer emotionally plugs in and there are no words) – where did that aesthetic stem from?
Thanks! That’s a hard question, as I’m not sure where the aesthetic came from either! It’s probably a bit silly, but I pride myself in knowing how to light and doing things really D.I.Y. Perhaps at times that approach has been detrimental, like not hiring out a DP. For me, researching and experimenting with the lighting is still part of the fun. I can’t wrap my head around some of the stories I hear of high-end photographers that don’t know how to light themselves, or worse those who don’t even push the shutter button, as that’s a whole different world! I think I’m always trying to mix the pragmatic of what lighting will work to achieve high shutter speeds, but also be subtle enough to feel simple and just a little more elevated, yet feel real and organic.

How did your collaboration with Monica May come about?
My partner Monica May is a great photographer, her work feels thoughtful and considered. The first collaboration we did together was in 2008, for an Esquire fashion story. The magazine wasn’t asking for a motion asset, but it was a nice editorial with male models in suits on a dry lake bed, the type of fashion story that pretty much shoots itself! Monica shot super 8mm, and since it was natural light, she was able to get the look cohesively with the stills. We got the film processed, scanned it, and fumbled a bit learning the editing software. We turned the final edited film to the magazine along with the stills, in case they wanted showcase the film on their website. It was extremely well received, and Esquire began to ask for these companion film pieces for our commissioned fashion shoots. Being editorial, the budgets could only allow little to no compensation for this additional asset, so they were mostly a labor of love. We used these types of shoots to learn and experiment with different processes. Eventually, we started bringing in higher quality motion cameras onto some brand ad campaign shoots (again on our own dime), and continued to hone these skills. We would do all of our own editing, not only for cost, but for the learning process as well. Editing can still be an exciting component for us because it’s like working on a complex puzzle.

Around this time, we were also getting ad jobs where on set timings would be shared with a TVC campaign. For whatever reason, the crews on the TVC motion teams were always a bit hostile and flexing some weird competitiveness with the stills team, even though we were all working for the same clients. We weren’t even taking on projects that required us to use their same set, but even with being completely autonomous, there were unnecessary complications thrown at us. We started thinking it might benefit these types of projects, especially in these pro athletes’ shoots, to school ourselves in continuous lighting that would allow us to capture both stills and motion simultaneously. The client began to see the potential and the benefit of hiring us as a team to capture both.

Tell us how you two harmonize creatively through the process.
We’re both technical, but as mentioned, she’s probably the more thoughtful one in her approach. I might be quicker to jump in and try to problem-solve along the way. Monica works with the motion cameras and her team, while I mostly handle the lighting and still photo aspects so it’s seamless between the stills and motion. Sometimes we cross over. Both of us tend to be highly involved with the production process, as we tend to get a lot of the more complicated timings and multiple asset request projects. We both work the logistics as well. While on set, we are either able to capture certain scenes at the same time due to the consideration of the lighting, or able to bounce the subject’s attention back and forth between my lens and hers. We both love to edit when the project allows, and we have developed a nice workflow where Monica usually takes the first pass and creates a “trim bin” of her favorite takes, then I take that and begin to assemble an edit, then we bounce it back and forth during this process. We also found we love working with music composers and sound design collaborators, since sound can evolve and reinterpret things for these short form projects.

Is The 20 Years of Olympic Imagery a good example project.
I don’t consider the 20 years of Olympic imagery as a project per se. It actually came about spontaneously over the first weekend of the 2024 Paris Olympics. I’m not a huge fan of social media, or the focus on “self branding”, but for better or worse, it’s obviously just another tool to showcase work. I’ve been reluctant to share older imagery, or ones that are heavily sport specific, with concern that the style of imagery might feel dated, or again get pigeon holed with the perception that I only shoot sports. I think the catalyst to share this work was seeing some recent Olympic campaigns with a similar aesthetic to the 2004 Nike Speed campaign, and realizing that the style within photography had once again come full circle, as trends tend to do.

I quickly edited the one minute collage film on the first Sunday of these Olympics, while watching the start of gymnastics and swim competitions, and posted it on the first Monday of the games. I didn’t have a plan going into it, so every night while watching the competitions, I would collate and resize imagery for the next days post. By not calling out brands, or the clients that these images were created for, I instead, wanted the focus to be solely about the athletes and the photography.

Life can be broken out into seasons, how would you describe your current season?
I’ve been fortunate enough to have a long career so far. No huge breakouts, and I’ve never considered myself a critic’s darling, just slow and steady. I can look back and see specific projects that were stepping stones, like the aforementioned 2004 Speed campaign, and those that were fulfilling and allowed us to discover, or learn something new. With all of that, I still find that I am excited to learn new things, hopeful for what the next project will bring, and confident in the experiences that have come with the years of work. So perhaps it’s a hybrid of all of life’s seasons!

What has changed the most – you, your process, or the Olympic Games, or photography itself?
That would take up another whole interview! I can attest that the landscape has changed so much since I started out, and moved even quicker in the last few years due to the sheer amount of photographers, directors, brands, social media, etc. With regard to the Olympics and photographing professional athletes, many of the changes I see are with the athletes themselves. Most of these young athletes have grown up with social media and self-branding. That can be an asset, as many understand all the publicity and brand asks of being a sponsored athlete. However, there are times I’ve seen all the self-branding and the focus of social media become a hinderance. There are also a lot more agents and PR representatives now then there used to be, and while it is necessary to have someone looking out for the athlete’s best interest, some come on set already with that “power flex”. They tend to forget that everyone is there to execute great imagery, while also creating a safe environment for the athlete. There are also a lot more brands besides athletic wear companies that sponsor the Olympics, like credit card companies, insurance companies, etc, that normally don’t shoot athletes, which limits access and timing further.

What are you excited about moving forward?
I think moving forward Monica and I want to continue doing these types of projects, but we are also looking to hone the work to showcase some more simplified and graphic work, as sometimes less is more, in the hopes that not every shoot needs to be a huge science project!

New York Times
Photographer: Kang-Chun Cheng

Heidi: “Find a place you trust and then try trusting it for a while” was one of the truths of activist Corita Kent. What drew you to Nairobi as a home base for 4 years and counting?
KC: I get this question a lot, which makes sense! My first time in Kenya was in 2018––I’d just finished my post-grad fellowship in Arctic Norway and Finland, staying with Sami reindeer herders for nearly a year and a half (unusual, I know)––and was feeling lost. I’d studied ecology and studio art for my bachelor’s and had little idea what I wanted to do. The Arctic was amazing because I was more or less working as a long-form documentarian, staying with a few families over months, following them around, taking photos, and asking lots of questions. My project was about how climate change and tech are impacting traditional reindeer herders and their identity and culture. But I felt out of place coming back to the US, where most of my peers were working in banking or consulting, or pursuing more education––I knew none of that was for me. I visited a good friend in Nairobi, who’s Kenyan, and invited me to go ‘figure out life’ with her, and ended up staying for 8 months. It was my first time living in a city, full stop, and an African city undergoing remarkable changes at that. I just remember feeling very curious about everything, and how much buzz was going on.

I ended up moving to Nairobi, nearly inadvertently, in early 2020, which is when I started seriously looking into how to work as a journalist/documentary photographer.  It was a steep learning curve, having not only zero connections to the industry, but also knowing nothing about pitching/the editorial process. But I was very drawn to it since it felt like a neat way to engage and learn about what is happening around us.

I think ultimately I’m drawn back to Nairobi time and time again for a few reasons: because it feels like home––I spent a lot of time building my community there!–– and the diversity in landscapes is amazing. I love spending time outdoors; there’s great climbing, hiking, deserts, a beautiful coast, savannahs-  a lot of weekend adventures abound. From a professional outlook, it’s amazing how many underreported stories there are within Kenya, a country very saturated by journalists, both foreign and local. We’re very lucky to enjoy great press freedom, especially relative to neighboring countries since I don’t generally cover breaking news, I love working on stories that have just been sitting there for a while, years even, that no one else has picked up.

You continue to explore the mysterious kidney disease affecting coastal and rural communities in Sri Lanka – how long have you been working on this story?
I first became interested in Sri Lanka in late 2022, when I was semi-stranded there trying to get a visa to India for a friend’s wedding. I ended up working on a couple of stories about how fishermen there are heavily impacted by both climate change and the ongoing economic crisis. My time there really stuck with me, and I became connected with a few Sri Lankan researchers, which is how I came to learn about the kidney disease linkage. Besides Ed Kashi’s work some years ago, which is more confined to the photojournalism realm. I hardly remember any reporting on chronic kidney diseases of unknown causes (CKDUs) in media, and feeling like that was a gap that could be filled.

I usually work with a local ‘fixer’ (lingo for translator or guide), or a researcher familiar with the community at hand. They help explain my motivation for being there– what story I’m working on–to set the context for the questions I’m asking. From my set of experiences, whether it’s northern Kenya or Sri Lanka, I find that the folks I’m working with are often very marginalized within their communities due to their ethnicity or remoteness––are generally very happy to share their experiences, and glad someone is paying attention. This is not to write off very real questions about foreigners not approaching communities in good faith, but I am someone who very much believes in vibes–in the sense that it’s hard to hide your real motivation. If you’re genuine and sincere, people can sense that––it’s something that transcends cultural and linguistic barriers.

Congratulations on your long list of grants, awards, and recognition
– which are the most memorable for you and why?
Thank you! They are special in different ways :) being accepted as part of the Women Photograph mentorship class was a pretty visceral moment since I remember coming across the website more than 5 years ago, and just being blown away by the quality and scope of what these fantastic photojournalists were working on globally. I remember wondering if I would ever be able to make such work or have anything to contribute. I think I applied 4 or 5 times to the mentorship class before getting in!

Photographer: Seth Beck

Heidi: You have been scanning the 1000+ slides for the past 10 years – what did you think when you first saw all the boxes of slides?
Seth: Honestly, I was ignorant of the scale of the task. I had only scanned slides in small batches before. In the end, the effort felt appropriate given the subject matter. It was a struggle, just like the hike, but it also came with a real feeling of accomplishment. That said, I will likely have someone else scan a hundred slides of my parent’s thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail in 1972.

What were your feelings about handling tangible slides?
Some of my earliest memories are the slideshows my parents and friends would put on at Thanksgiving. These slides would transport me from our small farm in Vermont to wild adventures far away with crazy characters. They set the spark that would lead me on my path of adventure and exploration. That made the process of handling them that much more meaningful.

Beyond the personal side, I love the time capsule aspect of physical slides. Not only the content they hold but the little physical details, the fonts on the slide mounts, the discoloration on the edges, and the date stamps from 1974. These are from a different era, a different time. They age and change with time, there is life to them.

My father had handwritten numbers on the slide mounts. Those personal touches separate physical media from digital and give them that life. Now and again during the process, I would be struck by the fact I was holding slides that my parents had taken and curated over 40 years ago. These are the only records of this period in my parent’s life and some of the few images documenting the early days of thru-hiking. It made the project feel more profound. I made a point of putting scans of the physical slides in the book because they came to mean so much to me.

Since you’re involved in tactile experiences with The Postcard Project and other collages was this a different way to express a tactile medium?
For the postcard project, I used vintage postcards from the 1930s, sketched blue ink portraits across three postcards, and mailed them separately to an unsuspecting recipient. The postcards share a lot of the little touches that the slides have. They are a tangible connection to the past, with a life to them. I have always been fascinated by taking something with that life and adding art to it.

I think the key difference between the PCT project and many of my other projects was the process of first digitizing something old, then creating something new via software, and finally printing it as a new physical book. I relished the storytelling process through the layout while infusing some of my aesthetic and style. The challenge was retaining the life of those slides in something new. I specifically left some of the images uncropped with the jagged edges of the slide showing. These imperfections are increasingly important to art as AI can create near-perfect original pieces. It is the imperfections that make art human.

I am also really intrigued by physically mailing items to people. Today most people only get packages, bills, and marketing in the mail. We are losing that unique experience of being surprised by something showing up from someone we care about. The postcard project was an opportunity for me to create that experience for people. I sent one of the PCT books to my parents’ hiking partner Bill Jahn. He had no idea I was scanning the photos, let alone making a book. It caught him off guard and I got a very loving note from him afterwards. I don’t think you can have that type of impact with digital mediums.

Did your parents talk much about their archive?
In some ways, I don’t think they fully appreciated what the archive represented, to them personally and to the hiking community. There had been discussions about digitizing the slides but it was not a strong push. For many years, there was no talk of the slides at all. It made the moment they opened the book that much more fulfilling. I could see in real-time the realization of the scale of what they had done.

What do you think is lost in the digitalization of family archives/history?
One of the promises of digitization is that it will make the content more accessible. Instead of being stored in a stack of boxes, requiring a projector to view, they are readily available on a shared drive. The reality is that you don’t end up spending the same quality time with them. I still love flipping through photo albums from my childhood and lament that my kids don’t get that experience. This was highlighted the other day when my kids were going through the photo album on my Facebook page. I realized this was one of the only places they could see all their childhood photos. I am resolved to get some books of our photos printed now.

A task like this is daunting – how did you approach it?
It took nearly ten years to complete, so I’m not sure about my approach. I made a concerted push at the beginning, getting 400 or so done in the first month. Then I would do 50 in a go when I had time. It was such a repetitive monotonous process that it was difficult to keep the momentum. When I took a moment to review the images and saw how great they were, I got motivated and pushed for the next group to get done.

Were you always planning on making a book for your folks as a gift?
When I started, the only goal was to get the slides digitized and on a shared drive for my mother and father. Through the process of handling the slides and seeing the images for the first time in years, I began to feel they deserved something more. I don’t think you can engage as deeply with the photos through a screen. Once the book was printed, I spent hours flipping through it, finding new details and discovering new favorites.

Now that the book is done – what would you do differently – are you inspired to document your life?The book was made for my parents and as a result, I prioritized getting as many images in as possible. I laid out the book quickly. I wish I had taken more time on the layout and reviewed the photos closely. Once I saw the photos printed, some were much better than I had thought when I saw them on the screen and justified more real estate. I would also like to add quotes from those involved to bring more life to the images.

Personally, the process confirmed my belief that documentation, digital or physical, of these types of life experiences is important. It provides a way to relive the experience and to keep the memories alive. It made me commit to improving my photography skills and capturing as much as I could on recent trips to Greenland and Newfoundland.

Another offshoot of the PCT project was that I started doing public presentations of my trips. I had such fond memories rekindled of my parents’ slideshows and lamented that we don’t share our experiences like that anymore. I find it to be much more gratifying than simply putting up an Instagram post.

Summit Journal

Editor: Michael Levy

Art Director/Photo Editor: Randall Levensaler

Heidi: With a year under your belt, what are your top learnings from the past year?
Michael: Making a magazine is the easy part – or at least it sometimes feels that way.

Editing a magazine – from commissioning and greenlighting articles and imagery to then working with the writers and photographers to perfect their work and get the assignments over the finish line – is the dream job for me. I feel beyond lucky to be doing this. But all the other stuff that comes with it? Business ops, marketing, and all the other shit… that stuff more often than not makes my head spin trying to keep it all straight and figure out the optimal way to do things. I’m constantly learning things, often things that I didn’t know that I didn’t know. As someone who has spent all my time on the editorial side in the past, wearing a bunch of different hats – from customer service rep to ad sales – has given me a new found appreciation and admiration for the folks who make everything else run smoothly. There’s just as much an art to that side of the equation. 

There were 319 past issues of Summit – and then you resurrected the title, why did you pivot on the naming convention?
There were a handful of reasons., When I shared my hopes to resurrect Summit with a former colleague, he asked me why I wasn’t going to just start a new magazine from scratch instead. “There are so many better names!” he said. Firstly, I just flat out disagree with him about the name  – what’s better than Summit for a climbing and mountaineering mag right?! Secondly, the whole point of resurrecting a magazine is to continue an existing story – to pick up where others left off. I’ve gotten to tell the broad strokes of the story of Jean and Helen, Summit’s founders, quite a bit at this point, and I still feel humbled to do so.

But just because I’ve brought Summit back to life, it’s not as though this is the same magazine it was in 1955 or 1965 or whenever. It’s a different project. Informed by that original title, yes. But not one in the same. So simply calling it Summit Magazine didn’t feel quite right. From 1990 to 1996, there was a second incarnation of Summit under which the name was tweaked to Summit: The Mountain Journal.

Calling the new iteration Summit Journal felt like a way to pay homage to both of these former eras, yet also signal that this is something new, something different.

I didn’t necessarily expect many people to read all of that into the name pivot. If anything, it’s more about keeping the mission straight in my and my art director’s heads here behind the scenes. To make sure we always remember that this title had a long, vibrant history before we came along and brought it back to life, but also that that shouldn’t dictate or limit what it is and can be in this new era.

You’ve been blending archival and current covers – are you leaning in into brand equity or balancing photography and the whimsical design Summit was known for?
It’s a bit of both. On the one hand, I think Summit Magazine’s most iconic covers are the illustrated ones by artists like Sheridan Anderson and Richard Pargeter. Continuing that tradition just felt like a no-brainer.

But doing an illustrated cover today also felt like something different in the outdoor media landscape, which has become overwhelmingly photo-centric. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that’s a bad thing; I just think the illustrated covers signal a different type of magazine.

Now, having said that, after I decided that I was going to do an illustrated cover for our first issue, I got a bit nervous. What if too many people were turned off by it? What if some people just wanted a cool climbing shot? Heck, I love an epic climbing photo as much as the next person. And so I figured I might as well do two covers – one illustration, one photo. That allowed me to have my cake and eat it. too.

And as I thought about it more, that felt like just one more way to capture the duality of this project – something old that is also something new. It suddenly seemed like the obvious way to do it. And with that in mind, we’re continuing to do two covers for each issue for the foreseeable future.

How did the archival content of Summit shape your contemporary editorial direction?
While it was always U.S.-centric, the older magazines had a very worldly sensibility. I’m very much trying to carry that forward.

The old magazines were mostly filled with pretty utilitarian stuff: how-to articles, trip reports, that kind of thing. I’m not against the latter, but I won’t be putting how-to articles or tech tips or gear reviews or any stuff like that in Summit Journal; there’s more than enough of that online. Rather, I’m trying to cultivate a more literary sensibility: climbing has, I would argue, perhaps the most literary tradition of any sport out there. There are old articles in the original Summit by climbers like Arlene Blum and Royal Robbins that are literary in a way that most stuff back than wasn’t. I’m trying to take that example and fill the entire magazine with it. Also to be clear: when I say literary, I’m not talking about esoteric think pieces or mind-numbing philosophy or impenetrable MFA-style prose. I’m talking the best kind of journalism, reportage, and essays that you see in the best of mainstream pubs – The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Esquire, the Outside of yesteryear – but with a climbing bent.

Congratulations on the mention in the NYT piece – what’s your take on the future of print publishing for independent magazines?
I’m wildly optimistic, as crazy as that might sound. In addition to Summit Journal, the NYT piece covered other great magazines like Mountain Gazette, Adventure Journal, Ori magazine, Emocean, and The Surfers Journal. But the article was focused just on the outdoors, obviously. A similar analog renaissance is occurring in seemingly every space, it feels like – whether traditional sports, or food and culinary arts, or what have you. I’m discovering new, wonderful magazines and magazine stores literally every single day. 

For me, the Internet and digital media have gotten so big that it can feel overwhelming. I have a couple online sources I rely on, but venturing beyond that feels scary – and there’s only so much time in the day that I want to be staring at a screen if I don’t have to be. In that kind of world, careful curation and high-quality print feel that much more valuable. 

I’m under no illusions that print will suddenly become the de facto distribution medium again or ever approach what it was in its heyday – no one wants that or is saying that would be good! But for delivering something different, for unplugging, for slowing down, for really absorbing a quality story and images… it’s hard to beat print for that. And I think there are enough people who agree to make it a thriving business for small, niche pubs like Summit Journal.

Have you been getting hearty photography submissions?
Yes! Right out of the gate submissions and pitches were slow – no surprise there. But now that it’s been almost a year since we announced Summit’s resurrection, there’s a steady trickle of both every week. We’ve started to commission some larger photographic stories, but our bread and butter continue to be submissions of already produced work. That’s just kind of the reality of the landscape and what we have the budget and bandwidth to work with. So with that in mind, if you have any great climbing or climbing-adjacent photos or ideas, send ‘em my way! mlevy@summitjournal.com

Documentary Program at the International Center of Photography
Joao Lutz: Baptism

Heidi: You came to NYC as a filmmaker with a handful of international clients. What drew you to the Documentary Program at the International Center of Photography?
Joao: My transition from film to stills was driven by a desire to explore a different form of storytelling. As a filmmaker, I was used to working with motion and sound to convey narratives. However, I became increasingly fascinated by the challenge of telling compelling stories through single frames and the magic space that breathes in the gaps between them. Photography offered me a new way to capture moments and emotions more intimately and immediately

In filmmaking, I often create stories, but with photography, I had the opportunity to discover and reveal the unexpected narratives that exist in the world around us. This element of surprise and discovery is exciting. The amazement of realizing situations a documentary project can take you is extremely fulfilling.
I was drawn to ICP because it provided an opportunity to deepen my understanding of visual storytelling through real-life narratives. The program’s emphasis on developing a cohesive narrative through still images resonated with my desire to hone my skills. Although I transitioned to still photography, I haven’t stopped working as a filmmaker. I continue to pursue both fields. I believe they don’t have to be set apart and are exceptional tools to create rich, multidimensional approaches to storytelling.

How did the Baptism project come about?
Baptism began from my fascination with the resilience and dedication of open water swimmers in Brighton Beach, New York, during the winter months. Growing up in Brazil, I spent most of my time on a farm or in a small town by the ocean. When I moved to New York, the beach became a place of comfort and familiarity. It made sense for my first documentary project to focus on a location where I felt somewhat at home. The project involved waking up at 3:30 AM two to three times a week to be at the beach by 6:00 AM to photograph these swimmers.

Initially, I was drawn by the extreme nature of their practice and the stark contrast between the bustling city of New York and the serene, spiritual connection these swimmers found with nature at Brighton Beach. This juxtaposition of city life and nature’s tranquility fascinated me. As I spent more time with them and engaged in deeper conversations, I realized it was much more than that. The project evolved to capture a community of people who come together to find spiritual solace and connection in the water.

Was it difficult to connect with the group of swimmers during their swim ritual?
Initially, there was a gradual process of building comfort and familiarity, both for myself and the swimmers. As with any natural human connection, it took time for us to get to know each other and for me to understand their ritual and stories. By consistently showing up and respectfully observing, I gradually gained their trust and became more familiar with their practices. Engaging in conversations, sharing my intentions, and showing genuine interest in their experiences helped build a rapport. Once they understood my goal was to document their journey authentically, they became more open and enthusiastic about participating in the project. I needed to approach the project with sensitivity and respect for their personal and often meditative practice.

How did the ocean inform your photography; what did you learn from this project?
The ocean and the elements played a significant role in shaping my approach to this project. The ever-changing conditions of the ocean and the weather influenced the mood and composition of my photographs. When I started, it was cold but still sunny, and as time went on, it became cloudy, snowy, and extremely windy. Adapting to these conditions was an incredible learning experience. I also began getting into the water myself, which helped me connect with the swimmers on a deeper level. By putting myself in their shoes and feeling the cold water on my skin, I gained an understanding of their experience. This project reinforced the importance of being present and responsive to the environment, allowing the natural elements to guide the visual storytelling. Most importantly, I learned that the practice for these swimmers is not just about physical endurance but a spiritual journey through their connection with the ocean and their surroundings.

What made the most impact for you at ICP? What surprised you?
The most impactful aspect of my time at ICP was the exposure to diverse perspectives and the rigorous critique process. Engaging with a community of passionate photographers and educators pushed me to refine my vision and technique. Coming from a filmmaking background, where I worked for five years, I had never worked on a documentary project. Moving to New York and starting ICP, where I had to work on a long-term documentary project, was challenging. I was used to creating stories rather than finding them in the world.

I struggled with going around and finding stories, which made it challenging. However, jumping into the “Baptism” project made sense because of its connection to my background. Once I opened myself to the project and trusted the process I was fascinated. I felt lucky to have access to such a new world. The more I do it, the more grateful I am to have a camera. It almost feels like a free pass or a passport to stories that I would never be able to see or live.

I was pleasantly surprised by the collaborative spirit and the depth of feedback I received at ICP. The opportunity to learn from industry professionals and peers alike was invaluable. The critiques, though challenging at times, helped me grow as an artist and understand the importance of narrative and emotional connection in my work.

How did the portfolio reviews go?
The portfolio reviews were an enriching experience. I received valuable feedback that validated my efforts and provided me with new directions for my work. Reviewers appreciated the storytelling and visual metaphors in my “Baptism” project, and I gained insights into developing and presenting my work.

How did you prepare for the reviews?
To prepare, I curated my portfolio carefully, ensuring it showcased a cohesive narrative and represented my artistic voice. A significant part of my preparation involved studying who my reviewers were, and understanding their backgrounds, interests, and the kind of work they do. This allowed me to adapt what I showed and how I presented my work to better connect with each reviewer. Knowing and planning how to engage with each person was crucial since every reviewer comes from a different background and interests.

What’s next for you?
I plan to continue exploring subcultures and communities that come together for unusual reasons. My work focuses on capturing these unique groups and the beautiful stories that emerge from their interactions. One of my ongoing projects, “Wheelie,” documents the city stunt bikers in New York City. I’m excited to dive deeper into this project and continue discovering and sharing the compelling narratives within these communities. I also look forward to potential collaborations and assignments that challenge and inspire me to grow further as a photographer.

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.

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.

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.