In the Namib, the shifts of the sun, the wind and the occasional spells of rains create patterns. Through the shadows of trees, the play of light and the natural textures of the land, portaits emerge and there may be stories to tell.
For photographers of my kind, vegetation is like the furniture of the land. Petrified or alive, in the dunes or the dry lake beds, their presence juxtaposed with their stark surroundings tie together the narrative of this ecosystem.
What’s a desert without sand? The dunes of the Namib are nature’s work of art over 50 million years. Humanity is a mere blip in the timeline in which these dunes have perfected their geometry. As you feel dwarfed in their presence, you also realise that there’s an image worth preserving in every narrow field of view. For your own sake, of course.
It’ll be unfair to imagine this as a lifeless land. Fauna, however scant, adapts itself to the demands of this ecosystem. As a photographer, each time I catch sight of life in this ecosystem, I consider it a privilege.
