More than 90 percent of my photographs are produced in black
and white. That is a deliberately high number that is reflective of my work in art galleries around the world. For almost all my career, I have been drawn to monochrome prints, and I think this image offers a few clues as to why. Black-and-white photography is reductive; it allows the viewer to focus on what the photographer is saying.

It was once said that if you photograph a family in color, you see their clothes, but if you photograph the same family in black and white, you see their souls. I like rich blacks and I also like blown-out whites. It’s a bit like a piano, where I’d want to use all 88 keys when playing and certainly not stick to the ones in the middle.

The Falklands are windy most of the time; it is the islands’ most marked characteristic. There is a beach about a three-hour drive from Stanley that offers photographers every chance to play with the wind and use it to their advantage. The only problem, however, is that sand gets everywhere, including inside the camera. Lying on the ground in the face of a sandstorm is not the most comfortable of experiences, but it is necessary for the perspective.

The evening that I took this image the light was full, which allowed me
to get more textural detail than I ever have in a penguin image. Cameras and lenses also continue to improve, and this is evident in this simple image. King penguins have both beauty and stature, and my intent was to capture just that.