Dorothea Lange once wrote, “It is no accident that the photographer becomes a photographer any more than the lion tamer becomes a lion tamer.”

Kevin Richardson was probably meant to spend his life with lions, and I was probably meant to spend my life with a camera by my side. Our relationship has matured over several years, and I am proud to be an ambassador
to his foundation. I have special access to his sanctuary, but that serves as no guarantee of success—it is merely a platform from which to be creative. Every time I make the trip up from Pretoria in South Africa, my mind-set is the same: What am I going to do when I get there? Kevin’s lions and lionesses are untamed—only he can control them and only in his presence am I safe.

My default position has remained the same. I use remote controls and wide-angle lenses, typically the 35mm that is one of Nikon’s best prime lenses. I have a preconceived image in mind, and I try to make that image with Kevin’s unique ability to work a lion in a prescribed manner.

I like working in long grass, as it helps frame the photograph and direct the eye to the subject. There is also a romanticist within me that wants the lion to look his most magnificent and imperious best in situations like this one—head up, focused, full of vitality and purpose.

I am asking for a great deal to go my way, and Kevin and I both recognize that it is a low-percentage shot. The presumption of failure is a necessary starting disposition, and we fail on many more occasions than we succeed. But when it comes together, the strategy and the low odds are validated.