The Wild Looking Back

I came to watch wolves. I hadn’t understood how it would feel to be watched in return. There is a particular stillness that comes over you when a wild animal looks directly towards you. The mind, so busy through all those hours of waiting, suddenly has very little to say. You are aware of your own presence, of being a visitor, of the living creature on the other side of the lens.

The close framing leaves little room for the eye to wander. In black and white, the face becomes a meeting of texture, light and remarkable symmetry, with small differences that make it unmistakably individual. The eyes hold the image together. I return to them each time, remembering the feeling of being fully attentive, with nothing to add and nowhere else I wanted to be. For a moment, looking was enough.

I came to watch wolves. I hadn’t understood how it would feel to be watched in return. There is a particular stillness that comes over you when a wild animal looks directly towards you. The mind, so busy through all those hours of waiting, suddenly has very little to say. You are aware of your own presence, of being a visitor, of the living creature on the other side of the lens.