SEBASTIÃO SALGADO WAS WHAT A PHOTOGRAPHER SHOULD BE
I learned today that Sebastião Salgado has passed.
And even though I never had the chance to speak with him, I feel the loss deeply.
The kind of loss you feel when a light goes out—one that had been illuminating the world in a way no one else could.
Salgado wasn’t just a photographer.
He was what a photographer should be.
A witness.
A vessel.
A force of care and conscience.
He showed us what it meant to look at the world fully, and not turn away.
In 2013, I was in Paris on the opening day of Genesis at the Maison Européenne de la Photographie.
I got there the moment the doors opened.
I was so eager to see his work in person—not on screen, not in books, but in real life.
What I didn’t expect was that the entire museum had been transformed into his exhibit.
Every floor. Every room. Every wall.
And then I saw him.
Salgado was there—walking the halls, giving interviews, speaking with curators.
I didn’t approach him.
There wasn’t a right moment.
But I watched him, quietly.
And I remember thinking:
He seemed like a man from another time.
Grounded. Masculine in the truest, most generous sense of the word—compassionate, sensitive, fully present.
Exactly like his work.
What struck me most, beyond the content of the images, was the experience of them.
These were large-format silver gelatin prints—many 50x68" and larger.
As you stepped in close, they dissolved into tone and grain.
Step back, and they resolved—perfectly.
Alive.
Spiritual.
Holding a kind of power you can’t explain.
The kind of presence that doesn’t just show you the world, but makes you feel it.
I saw his work again in Hong Kong a few years later.
He was scheduled to appear that evening at a gallery event.
I had an invite.
But my flight home was that same night, and I couldn’t make both happen.
So I saw the work.
And I missed the man again.
I’ve often thought about what I would have said to him.
Something simple, I imagine:
That his work shaped me—not just as a photographer, but as a person.
That what he gave the world was a gift.
That his images carried weight, breath, blood, and spirit.
Salgado’s books are foundational.
Genesis is always the first one I recommend to any photographer—it belongs in every serious collection.
And when I mentor students, I make it a point to have them study his work.
Not just look at it.
Study it.
Describe it.
Speak to it.
Explain what’s happening—not technically, but emotionally.
Because when you can understand why a Salgado photograph moves you, you start to understand how to make images that move others.
There’s also his environmental legacy.
Many know him as the man who returned to Brazil and reforested the land—over 2 million trees planted.
He didn’t just photograph the Earth.
He healed a piece of it.
He gave something back.
There are few figures in photography I hold in such high regard.
Even fewer who shaped my thinking as deeply as he did.
To me, Sebastião Salgado will always represent what this craft can be when it’s done with depth, integrity, and devotion.
Not for the applause.
Not for the brand.
But for the world.
Rest in peace, Sebastião.
You saw us.
You carried us.
And you reminded us how much there is to care for.
All images: © Sebastião Salgado / Amazonas Images. Used here with respect and for non-commercial tribute purposes.
