Italy it’s been one of the most hitted country in the world by the Covid-19, the one with the longest quarantine, 72 days.
The whole photography thing came to me pretty late if I’m honest. I was 23 when I had just finished my University Degree studying Media & Communications at UTS and I had no idea what I wanted to do after studying. But the one thing I did know was that I didn’t want to jump straight into a full time job where I was going to be stuck in an office all day.
Hi, my names Rhys Jones, I’m 22 and I’m from the sunny Central Coast of NSW. I’m a freelance photographer who specialises in DSLR and Drone Nature photography.
My name is Jack Noel Davis, I'm a photographer from the South Coast NSW.
We find ourselves in strange times, facing a concurrent health and economic crisis.
There is a space south of my heart that belongs to this place. “La Tigra” is the door to paradise. Back in the days it was savagely beautiful, but friendly enough for the foreigners to feel it like home. I will call it “La Tigra” to keep it secret and because there is a myth regarding its real name.
The sky darkens. The wind starts to blow behind us. We are still small but we can feel we are getting stronger. Our friends and us are gathering. We are as one, all marching in the same direction.
West Australians were self-isolating before it was cool, and before it became the most effective way to flatten the curve. With the current COVID-19 pandemic, staying home is now the most important thing we can do so that we can get back to self-isolating in the great outdoors as soon as possible.
When I was 15, I took a black and white photography class at school. I started spending my lunch breaks in the dark room; I loved the smell, the red tinted lights. I also loved how having a camera transformed teenage loitering and mischief into an artistic pursuit. Trespassing became location scouting.
I start each day in the ocean, in the dark. Nothing but camera and flippers, 50-100m off Manly Beach. You see, I'm waiting for the sun to pop its head over the horizon, to capture it’s warming rays reflecting off the ocean’s ripples at dawn.
It’s Late Night and you’re in bed already. You can’t sleep, you keep on Looking at your phone, checking for the last time the Forecast. This time it looks like is the good swell.
Alarm set at 6AM.
For two weeks we put life on pause and enjoyed a nomadic surfer’s fantasy as we drove down the coast of Baja. The roads were desolate, endless, and empty. Joshua trees and cacti spanned the horizon; home was worlds away.
Take yourself back a few weeks ago, before Covid-19 had truly exploded…
That's when two of my best mates and I decided to embark on the trip of a lifetime. I had chosen Alaska as our destination after my Google search of “Can you surf in Alaska” proved successful. We quickly booked flights, a surf charter and packed some 6mm wetties.
I first discovered photography when I was around eleven years old. My cousins were really into it, and we did a lot of practise portrait “shoots” of each other in the backyard. I remember being so amazed that photography was an actual thing, that you could take photos and it could actually be considered as work.
I’ve always considered myself on the fringes of surf photography. The appreciation and love for the sea is deep within me, but my creative drive has pulled me far away from shooting shore breaks and layback snaps at the local.
Growing up with a huge interest in surf was a lil’ bit harder, when you lived in the suburbs. A suburban kook, weekend shredder…never a local.