The bigger this image is printed, the more powerful it is. As a big print, it
has a real sense of place; it smacks of quintessential rural Japan in the winter. The light snowfall enhances the image as much as the snow on the young monkey’s face. Meanwhile, the abstract contours of the waterfall behind add to a surreal winter wonderland scene. In my preconception, I needed snowfall, and on this day it went my way.

There is a slight paradox in the ecosystem in which snow monkeys congregate in that it looks otherworldly, extreme, and distant, yet it is actually very accessible. Grab a bullet train from Tokyo and it is only a three-hour journey door to door—including the climb from the entrance to the park. That means there is no shortage of visitors on a daily basis, and as each hour passes the serenity is increasingly lost.

The solution is to stay locally and hope overnight snow will deter or delay other photographers or tourists. As they say, the early bird catches the worm. On this occasion, I was the first up the mountain and there had been six inches of snow overnight. It was perfect.

Working in snowfall is a fine trick— it adds that necessary narrative—but a blizzard is too much to see through if the subject-to-camera distance is more than a couple of feet. When the storm finally petered out, the snowfall around 9:30 a.m. became more gentle. This allowed me to work from about 10 feet away and give as much context as possible.

The snow monkey looks determined and in control despite being dwarfed by his surroundings. It seemed appropriate to call him Shackleton. His positioning at that moment in time was perfect.