Paul Nicklen
Lauren Scott meets the nature photographer who’s spent a lifetime documenting the ethereal beauty of the polar regions
Explore the poles in the work of this accomplished photographer
When we were lucky enough to talk to the celebrated (and very busy) National Geographic contributor and ocean conservationist Paul Nicklen, he’d just got back from three weeks in Canada’s Great Bear Rainforest, and was heading out again the next day to capture one of the biggest sockeye salmon runs in the world.
Born to Ice is an apt title for Paul’s latest photo book. He was raised on Baffin Island, Nunavut, and grew up amid the ice fields and seas of northern Canada. The Arctic is in Paul’s blood – and because of this, witnessing the polar regions through his lens is authentic and moving. He’s well-qualified to portray the impact of climate change on the polar regions and their inhabitants – yet does so with hope. In the foreword to Born to Ice, Leonardo DiCaprio recognises Paul’s passion for his subjects and his optimism about the future of our planet: “To witness the Arctic and Antarctica through Paul Nicklen’s lens is to experience hope in action. Born to Ice showcases the life’s work of an artist whose love for the landscape – and each animal in it – is so palpable that emotion echoes throughout every image.”
Born to Ice has truly been a lifetime in the making. Paul spoke to us from the SeaLegacy office in Canada (a non-profit he co-founded with Cristina Mittermeier in 2014), talking about the book and much more besides...
Tell us more about Born to Ice...
Born to Ice is a collection of my favourite artistic images that I’ve accumulated throughout my career. I want people to fall in love with these places and these species, and to look these animals in the eyes and realise what’s disappearing.
So Born to Ice is a more creative outlet?
I’ve been on the front lines of doing real journalism for the last 22 years, but since
I was young, I have loved to shoot art. Working on assignment for National Geographic kind of breeds that out of you; it’s hard to do art and journalism. With Born to Ice, I really want people to get lost in it and turn off their left analytical brain.
How long did it take to put together? A lifetime of living with the Inuit and learning the skills, and having all that come together.
What’s been the most challenging subject?
Narwhals are by far the hardest animal I have ever had to photograph. It took me eight years of going back every year before I finally had two good hours of shooting. Why? They’re elusive. They’re shot at. They’re scared. They’re nervous by nature. They’re incredibly sensitive with their echo-location, too.
Narwhals are very shy and don’t want to be around humans. If I want to get close, intimate images, I need to have thousands of narwhals relaxed and within five feet of me in order to get the images.
What was the motivation behind creating Born to Ice?
I’m really proud to take my favourite images, my most artistic images, and put them in one volume that celebrates my favourite places on Earth – the ends of the earth.
Do you carry a lot of gear with you?
I do. I shoot both above and below water. I shoot video underwater. I fly drones. If I have my ultra-light airplane, I’ve had up to 25 70-pound cases, but my minimum would be eight 70-pound cases.
How do you go about finding subjects?
A lot of research. I ask the First Nations. I ask the Inuit. I ask the scientists. I ask peers and fellow photographers. Things are a lot easier now with Google than they were 20 years ago, when everything was by phone calls.
Often, I’ll go to a place two or three times before I start to solve the mystery of the patterns of nature that are unfolding in these locations. It’s a real puzzle every time to solve it. You just don’t know whether animals are late, or it’s been a warmer-than-average season, for example.
The environmental conditions must hugely dictate what you can shoot, and when.
Weather conditions are extremely important for me. The worse the weather, the worse the storm, the more the fog, the stronger the winds, the blowing snow and the ice, the more I know I can go outside and shoot really unique images. Bluebird-sunny days are what hurt me the most.
I usually wake up and have my breakfast at about 7pm. I’m usually out the door by
9 to 10pm. I’ll shoot until about 5 or 6am and then I’ll go to bed at around 7 and have supper at 8am. I’ll go to sleep until about
3 or 4pm, and start my next day.
You shoot through the night, then?
I reverse my schedule to follow the pattern, and then animals are usually more active when it’s colder in the evenings than during the day. I usually shoot throughout the night, which is 24 hours of sunlight, but instead of getting the one magic hour of sun, you’ve got six hours of magic light, where you have the moody light.
What sparked your love affair shooting in the polar regions?
Growing up with the Inuit. It’s worked its way into my heart and soul since I was four. I just fell in love with these places, with the culture, the animals, the cold, the wind, the solitude, the silence. The silence is deafening. It’s so peaceful out there. It’s like you’re in a constant meditative state because there’s no distractions when you’re out there – the howling wind across the sea ice and the Aurora Borealis dancing across the northern sky... I think when you’ve experienced this from a young age, there’s just nothing else like it in this world.
I would love to draw, and when I was 11 years old and one of on my drawings made it into Canadian Museum of History in Ottawa, I was very proud that my understanding, my feeling that I had towards this place that I loved, was being viewed by many. I never thought photography would be available to me, too.
What was your first break in photography?
My mom had a Pentax K1000 and a darkroom. I never saw myself as a photographer, though. It was more when I went to university and I started scuba diving that I realised I could bring back images of this underwater world back to the rest of the world.
I wrote to Flip Nicklin when I was 18 (my mom helped me), although he never replied. I found out he was working all around the Canadian Arctic on polar bears for National
Geographic. Every time I met somebody who knew him, I kept making a joke, saying, “Tell Flip Nicklin I’m coming for him.” I was just being goofy.
Then one day in Churchill, Manitoba,
I was driving a tundra buggy and he pulled up beside me in a big buggy. I was driving, and he pulled up beside me and poked his head out of the driver’s window and said, “I’m Flip, and I hear you’re looking for me.” We ended up really hitting it off and having dinner, and just really loving each other. The next day
“Often, I’ll go to a place two or three times before I start to solve the mystery of the patterns of nature that are unfolding in these locations”
his tundra buggy broke down. My company was not very helpful and they just said, “Sorry, your shoot’s over, we can’t help you.” I said: “Take me off the clock. Give me one of your lousy machines, and I will go to work for free and guide Flip Nicklin until he’s finished his assignment here.”
I went and did that, and I just spent a week with him, soaking up everything he could tell me. He was impressed with my work ethic and he said, “Someday, I’m going to help you.” Two years later, he phoned me and asked if I wanted to come down to Whidbey Island in Washington State and move into his house.
That’s quite a story. No lucky break, then?
I have so many people write me and say, “You’re so lucky everything started to happen for you.” I talked to Joel Sartore and Flip Nicklin and Joel says in all his years of mentoring and being involved in National
Geographic, for example, he’s never seen anybody work as hard as I did or to have everything stacked up against them. He said I should have quit so many times.
My first picture that I got published in National Geographic, I was in the Yukon, living in Whitehorse, and I knew National
Geographic was doing a big feature on the Aurora Borealis. I got in my truck at -40C in the winter and I drove to the Poker Flat Rocket Range in Fairbanks, Alaska. I had no money; I lived in the front seat of my truck for one month, living under a radar dish in my sleeping bag, waiting for them to launch this rocket.
I got so demoralised after a month of waiting, I drove all the way back to Whitehorse. Just as I got in the door, in the morning, the phone rang, and Nasa said, “We’re launching a rocket tonight.” I got back in my truck and I drove all the way back to Fairbanks – 1,100km, in the dark of winter – set up my three cameras and shot the rocket. Only one of the three cameras worked. I got one picture.
I submitted it to National Geographic, and they published it. Do you call that a break, or do you call that blind determination to not fail?
Speaking of determination and dedication, tell us more about SeaLegacy…
SeaLegacy is the non-profit that I co-founded with Cristina Mittermeier in 2014. We plan and execute expeditions to tipping-point locations all over the world. We take local problems, being fought for and run by small, local NGOs, and use our power and reach to put them in front of the international court of public
“E verything needs to be based on science. If you’re sitting there making false claims, you’re hurting yourself. I want the images to be accurate and honest”
opinion. We can get the world to see these things. There have been tangible wins with the #BanDeathNets campaign. To be a part of victories like the Northern Gateway pipeline, the Kinder Morgan Trans Mountain pipeline, and the moratorium on oil drilling in Lofoten is what fuels us and keeps us going.
How has SeaLegacy evolved?
Very much by following the lead of Cristina, who founded The International League of Conservation Photographers. Watching her work with some of the best in the world, and have conservation wins, really motivated us to put the same level of passion towards our oceans. It’s growing faster and bigger than we ever thought.
And what’s the plan going forward...
We’re celebrating the one-year anniversary of The Tide, a monthly subscription programme that gives members exclusive access to behind-the-scenes footage and experiences from our expeditions. We have huge plans for The Tide, making sure it stays engaging for everyone. It’s a global community of people dedicated to changing the narrative of the world’s oceans from a negative one into a positive one.
We also have The Swell, where celebrities of all kinds lend their influence to amplifying the important messages that SeaLegacy creates.
Does science influence your photography?
Everything needs to be based on
“It warms my heart when I see people doing new, innovative, creative work and finding their own path of storytelling”
science. If you’re sitting there making false claims, you’re hurting yourself. I want the images to be accurate, honest and true. You’ve won 30 of the highest photo awards given to any photographer in your field. How important are competitions for raising awareness around conservation issues? Getting acknowledged through awards makes people pay attention to what you have to say, but competitions for the top photography are less important than competitions celebrating true storytelling.
My first story with National Geographic was on Atlantic salmon, and it was a very tough story. My editor told me that I was failing and I would probably never work for National
Geographic again, and it was a very difficult time. I begged to go back in the field, and went on to win the 2004 First Prize for Nature Stories in the World Press Photo awards. It was confirmation that I was on the right path.
So you’ve stayed true to your own style?
If you’ve just won the best visual storytelling story in the world for conservation based on science, it means everything. It also lets other people know that they can compete in the same realm of journalism. It breaks my heart when I see photographers out there trying to copy one of my images. It warms my heart when I see people doing new, innovative, creative work and finding their own path.
Are you optimistic about the future of conservation and our attitudes to nature?
It comes and goes. You have these little moments of victory, and you see that we have started a revolution, and people do care. I think there is a movement started, but we are going to lose a lot of species and a lot of habitat in the meantime. Am I optimistic? Yeah. I think people are generally, intrinsically good. Paul Nicklen’s book
Born to Ice, published by teNeues, is out now.