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“It’s fair to say that Tuvalu is unlike any other islands you’re likely to visit: small, isolated, beautiful, sleepy and sinking." < Back That Sinking Feeling 2 May 2017 “It’s fair to say that Tuvalu is unlike any other islands you’re likely to visit: small, isolated, beautiful, sleepy and sinking." Guy Needham's latest article about one of the smallest and most low-lying countries in the world, Tuvalu, is the cover story of this week's New Zealand Herald Travel section. < Previous Next >

Guy Needham's People of The Balkans exhibition is having its second showing, this time at the Dalmatian Cultural Society's Open Day in September 2014. < Back Dalmatian Cultural Society's Open Day 1 Jul 2014 Guy Needham's People of The Balkans exhibition is having its second showing, this time at the Dalmatian Cultural Society's Open Day in September 2014. The collection documents a two month journey and the resulting portraits are of a proud people who have gone through much in the last 20 years. < Previous Next >

In an exclusive interview with D-Photo magazine Guy Needham talks about the lengths he went to to get the shots for his upcoming exhibition, The Mentawai of Indonesia. < Back The Mentawai in D-Photo Magazine 19 Jul 2017 In an exclusive interview with D-Photo magazine Guy Needham talks about the lengths he went to to get the shots for his upcoming exhibition, The Mentawai of Indonesia. The article reveals what it's really like as a photographer where a contrast in culture is the least of your worries. Read journalist Adrian Hatwell's article here . < Previous Next >

“When the alarm goes you grab this,” Officer Cadet Dusan said as he pointed to my lifejacket. “And this.” An orange survival suit. “We muster on C Deck, starboard side.” I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that my welcome was bringing up Titanic-like thoughts. < Back Off-grid Ocean Journey 5 Feb 2015 “When the alarm goes you grab this,” Officer Cadet Dusan said as he pointed to my lifejacket. “And this.” An orange survival suit. “We muster on C Deck, starboard side.” I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that my welcome was bringing up Titanic-like thoughts. I had just boarded the ANL Bindaree, a Liberian-flagged freighter that was slowly pulling out into the Hauraki Gulf laden with 30,000 tones of freight, 24 crew and 1 other passenger. I was following a little-known tradition of passengers on cargo ships, harking back to the days when cabins were set aside for owners and VIPs. Today they’re taken by people looking for a slow alternative to air travel, who are independent, have time to spare, and who – like me – just want to do something a little different. I’d chosen a rather circuitous route as was pointed out by Adrian, the bemused Chief Engineer. “OK, so you’re leaving here to come back here to go nowhere?” “Uh huh,” I replied. From Auckland around Cape Reinga across the Tasman to Melbourne, up the Australian Coast to Sydney and then into the South Pacific to disembark at Tauranga. The journey would take two weeks. “You are very strange,” he chuckled. Adrian was one of the Bindaree’s band of officers from Croatia, Romania, and Montenegro; the crew were all Filipino. As is maritime tradition there was strict segregation between the officers and the crew including socialising, eating and sleeping. This irked my fellow passenger, Naomi, a Canadian environmental educator, who was telling me so when we were interrupted. “Attention all crew. Attention all crew,” boomed the PA system. “Clocks go back one hour tonight. One hour.” That marked us entering international waters and that meant the Slop Chest was open. The Slop Chest (official name: Bonded Store) was a duty free treasure trove of alcohol, treats and cigarettes. You pick what you want from the checklist, hand a slip to the officer, it gets delivered to your door, and you pay in $US before disembarking. I made the landlubber’s mistake of thinking I was paying US$18 for a dozen Becks beer. 24 bottles turned up. No matter, there was more than enough room in my quarters. Officially the “Owner’s cabin”, I had a dayroom (two couches, table, writing desk and chair, fridge, LG mini-system, DVD player and TV) as well as a bedroom plus shower and toilet. My porthole (ticket note: “View may be restricted by containers”) looked all the way to the bow. As the days went by the low rumble of the engines was occasionally punctuated by the creaking of container lashes. I spent as much time as possible on the Bridge. Being allowed in the Wheelhouse is one of the perks of being a passenger on a merchant ship, but it definitely wasn’t what I expected. Sure, I’d done my research – if watching Captain Phillips counts – but I hadn’t reckoned on was how automated it all was. There is no grand wheel any more; this one was the size of a PlayStation racing control. “Surprised huh?” Third Officer Paul called out with a grin on his face. “Everything is automatic now, see”. He pointed to the navigation console. “Of course, we still do things manually. Every two hours we plot our exact position on the charts behind you. Don’t want anything to go wrong,” he said understatedly, still smiling. As Officer on Watch he wasn’t actually steering the ship; he was checking it was on track. Just to humour me though he opened a small hatch on the bulkhead – out popped a Morse code machine. The following day I joined Chief Officer Aleksandar on the outer Bridge – him with cigarette and coffee in hand, me with sunglasses, both of us looking out to the horizon. “People don’t understand,” he said passionately. “We are the life blood of the world economy!” He jokingly jabbed his finger to his forearm. “No planes, no trains, ever carry as much as economically as us. This is why shipping will never die.” I nodded in agreement. We were heading west at a majestic 14 knots. He opened a small hatch on the bulkhead – out popped a Morse code machine. Seven decks below the powerhouse of the ship thundered on. In the engine room nine turbines pumped out 720RPM of raw power. “140°” said the engineer, “That’s how hot these pipes are. Don’t touch them.” I didn’t need to be told twice. As awesome as all that power was it was a relief to be topside again. My favourite place was at the bow with 250m of container ship behind me, the hypnotic sound of the swell and the gentle rocking of a massive ship. The mornings were fresh and tingly; the afternoon’s hot and tan-worthy. It wasn’t until Day 6 that we saw land again – Australia. The mood on the Bridge noticeably changed and focus replaced humour. It was as if the ship had been given a talking to at half time and came out with guns blazing. In Melbourne I saw first-hand the life-blood of the world economy. Every container was positioned on the deck according to its declared weight, need for power, displacement of cargo and final destination. Massive cranes, hoists and lights worked 24 hours to keep the infrastructure pumping. After ‘shore leave’ I was back up the gangway in time for dinner. Meals were at set times (7-8am, Noon-1pm, 5-6pm) and eating in the Officers’ Mess was a chance to get to know the men onboard. On freighters the meals are dependent on how good a cook you have and ours was good. Chef Leonardo and Messman Rodel invited me into the galley to proudly show off their honey-glazed chicken, Thai-inspired beef and ice-cream sundaes. Evenings were spent chilling. There was time to read, watch DVDs, work out in the gym or just stare out to sea. More than once I caught up with the ship’s Master, Danko Grgurevic, a typically friendly Croatian who was usually dressed in shorts, a company t-shirt and tennis shoes. We arrived in Botany Bay under a full moon. By then I’d learnt that you’re not supposed to take your passport off the vessel when entering another country (oops) and you have to sit at your allocated place at the dining table even when you’re the only person there (oops again). But despite all those idiosyncrasies there was one great benefit: being “off the grid”. No cellphone, no Facebook, no hashtags, no selfies. After another five days we arrived in Tauranga. I left the crew with a few magazines and beers, and descended the gangway one last time. It had been a privileged insight into a rarefied ecosystem, one with rules and norms that could be daunting to the uninitiated. Luckily, I had the best hosts I could have asked for. And I was rather pleased that I never had to put on that orange survival suit. < Previous Next >

A portrait of Kanamutico of the Vatwa tribe will be on display in the US for the first time, as part of the Griffin Museum of Photography's Winter Solstice exhibition. < Back Kanamutico meets Boston 28 Oct 2025 A portrait of Kanamutico of the Vatwa tribe will be on display in the US for the first time, as part of the Griffin Museum of Photography's Winter Solstice exhibition. T he portrait of Kanamutico looking out of his hut will be on show in the Boston gallery from December 5. One of the Vatwa tribe located in the Angolan municipality of Oncocua, he follows in the footsteps of the older men in the village who spend their days tending to crops and goats in the nearby fields of this semi-nomadic tribe. < Previous Next >

The Vatwa of Angola debuted in Melbourne last night, with Australians seeing and hearing for the first time about this remote indigenous tribe. < Back Opening night in Melbourne 11 Apr 2026 The Vatwa of Angola debuted in Melbourne last night, with Australians seeing and hearing for the first time about this remote indigenous tribe. The opening night of the Vatwa of Angola at Ladder Art Space saw a number of conversations about the Vatwa, their customs, and their culture. Showcasing a select number of portraits taken during the week Guy Needham spent with them, the exhibition is on show until 2 May in Kew. < Previous Next >

The sixth instalment of Guy Needham's tribal series opened in Auckland last night to a packed Grey gallery. < Back The Hadzabe opens in Auckland 29 May 2019 The sixth instalment of Guy Needham's tribal series opened in Auckland last night to a packed Grey gallery. You've still got time to see The Hadzabe of Tanzania, on show until June 8, and if you'd like to find out more about this fascinating tribe come along to the Q&A session this Saturday at Noon at 37 Scanlan St, Grey Lynn. < Previous Next >

Last night Guy Needham spoke at the North Shore Photographic Society about his travel photography experiences and his recent Shades of Otara exhibition. < Back On cultural awareness 14 Apr 2016 Last night Guy Needham spoke at the North Shore Photographic Society about his travel photography experiences and his recent Shades of Otara exhibition. As well as talking about photographic styles and cultural awareness, Guy took questions on everything from lighting to permission to working as a freelancer. < Previous Next >

We both looked up. It was a strange sound, obviously unfamiliar to my host. “When was the last time it rained here?” I asked. A pause. “Um… this is the first time this year. Might settle the dust though,” said Nick laconically. Perhaps a good omen to mark the centenary of what some would say is Australia’s strangest town. < Back The Strangest Town in Australia 26 Apr 2015 We both looked up. It was a strange sound, obviously unfamiliar to my host. “When was the last time it rained here?” I asked. A pause. “Um… this is the first time this year. Might settle the dust though,” said Nick laconically. Perhaps a good omen to mark the centenary of what some would say is Australia’s strangest town. I was in Coober Pedy, located in the desert of the South Australian outback, a red dirt town under big blue skies. It’s a town that was founded 100 years ago on opal mining, a town where 50% of the population live underground, and a town that hadn’t seen rain for a while. As the showers gently eased Nick, the owner of The Lookout Cave Underground Hotel, commended me for visiting during the ‘colder’ months (it was 31° outside). In January it had been an unbearable 43°. The locals avoid the worst of it by living in ‘dugout’ homes excavated out of sandstone hills, giving them a constant 22° and respite from the harsh desert heat and dust. Unlike ‘mole holes’ these homes – like my underground hotel room – are generally at ground level, super quiet and thankfully not claustrophobic. When the rain stopped Nick pointed out the air vents that dotted the landscape, rising like metallic mushrooms giving air to the dugouts below. Google Maps had already shown me that Coober Pedy was going to be different: the reddy-brown landscape, few structures, fewer roads and lots of dirt. But what the town lacks in looks it makes up for in superlatives: it is, after all, the Opal Capital of the World, down the road is the Largest Cattle Station in the World, cutting through it is the Longest Man-made Structure in the World, there’s the Driest Golf Course in the World and of course, the Largest Underground Hotel in the World (capitals intended). I think it also has the most flies in the world. I’d timed my visit with the Coober Pedy Opal Festival, which this year was celebrating 100 years since fourteen-year-old Willie Hutchison found the first opal there. The festival kicked off with the annual Street Parade, hosted by jovial MCs keeping the crowd entertained under the blazing mid morning sun. Slowly the flotilla came into view, heavy mining trucks leading the way followed by local businesses, AFL fans and the obligatory Mines Rescue vehicles. In a town of only 3500 if you weren’t in the parade you were cheering it on from the sidelines. “Where you from eh fella?” asked the aboriginal man next to me, from under his Akubra hat. I told him and then David Mindi Crombie told me his life story. Born inside an open-cut opal pit with his twin brother. Famous for writing songs about Coober Pedy. Performed at the Sydney Opera House on a national tour. Named Coober Pedy Citizen of the Year (1992). A Justice of the Peace. Singing tonight at the pub up the road. I’d picked a good person to sit next to. Nick commended me for visiting during the ‘colder’ months (it was 31° outside). The Opal Festival also coincided with Easter so there was no better time to visit one of the town’s underground churches. Father Brian Mathews welcomed me at the door of Saint Peter’s and Paul’s and patiently took me through its history. “The parish is rather large I guess,” he said, standing in front of a wall map. “And we don’t always have a church everywhere. Last week I had mass in the dining room of a pub.” He drew his finger across the boundaries. It went up to Uluru, touched Western Australia, Northern Territory, Queensland and New South Wales. This priest was responsible for a parish area bigger than Texas. Across from the church was one of the town’s two dozen opal jewellery stores, which makes sense when you consider that 85% of Australia’s opals come from Coober Pedy. “They’re all individual, that’s what makes each one so special,” said George of Opalios, peering up with his jewellery magnifiers still on while polishing a stone. “It doesn’t matter what type of opal you like - cut, rough, milky, black, pinfire – it’s bound to be different to what anyone else has.” He pulled out a solid opal set in 18k gold. Price? A steal at $12,500. The dirty end of the business was found at Tom’s Working Opal Mine. After the briefing and donning a hard hat, I wound my way down 12 metres underground. Blower pipes, Caldwell shafts, pillar bashing, explosive setting, sump tunnels - there’s a lot to this opal mining gig. Which explains the numerous abandoned drill holes in the area (“Beware deep shafts” “Don’t walk backwards” the signs warn). Even the town’s name comes from the Aboriginal kupa-piti meaning ‘white man in a hole’. The landscapes weren’t just a potholed mess though; this was the scenery that had starred in Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and Max Mad: Beyond Thunderdome so I arranged to explore more. “Today we’re gonna go off road for about 600k’s,” said Rowie as I put my seatbelt on. Peter Rowe isn’t your typical tour guide. He’s an official Australia Post contractor and I was joining him on ‘mail run’ from Coober Pedy to William Creek to Oodnadatta. The 12-hour drive would take us across the Great Artesian Basin to the edge of the Victorian Desert. First stop was Anna Creek Station, the largest cattle ranch on the planet at a whopping 24,000km2 – that’s 6,000,000 acres. To give you a sense of scale, the distance from the property boundary to the unassuming homestead is further then the distance from Auckland to Hamilton. No one was home but Peter dropped off the mail, disturbing hundreds of screeching Corella birds all wanting to make their presence known. To get to Anna Creek we had to pass the Dog Fence, designed to keep dingoes away from livestock. The fence is twice as long as The Great Wall of China; 5600kms of protective barbed wire and posts weaving across three Australian states. William Creek (pop. 6) is a town so small that it’s entirely surrounded by Anna Creek Station. One thing it does have though – aside from a pub – is an outdoor ‘rocket museum’. I had to squint to read it but that’s what it said: the metal carcass in front of me was part of a rocket used to launch a British satellite from the nearby Woomera Rocket Range. Impressed, I went back inside for some Kangaroo Yiros and a Hahn Super Dry. The unsealed road that runs from William Creek to Oodnadatta is known as the Oodnadatta Track. Partially built on the old Ghan railway line the track is at times bone jarring, very geologically diverse and a little surprising. In the distance a dingo stared at us. “Hang on to ya hat!” Peter yelled, as he turned the 4WD onto the tundra and raced towards the now scurrying dog. That particular chase was futile but we did get close to kangaroos, camels and hawks. On the way back to Coober Pedy I was regaled with more stories – from the Afghan cameleers to the unfortunate souls who perished in the desert heat. We arrived back long after dark. The week of celebrations culminated with the Coober Pedy open-air cinema. Held every second weekend it seemed like the whole town had parked up, tuned in, sat back and enjoyed the free ice creams and cheap snacks. It was one of the few above-the-ground activities in town. Of course, like any movie theatre, it began with the “Patrons: Explosives are not to be brought into this theatre” slide, a joke flashback to the old days. Staying in Coober Pedy made me realise it’s not for everyone. To be honest, it can be a little strange – like that uncle you try to avoid at Christmas – but if you’re ready to exchange more than pleasantries and are willing to be surprised, you’ll find that there’s a lot more under the surface of this unique outback town. < Previous Next >

An image of a just-emptied train carriage at a railway station on the outskirts of Lubango, Angola, has been selected for a global travel exhibition in Athens, Greece. < Back Lubango Local chosen for Athens 19 Aug 2025 An image of a just-emptied train carriage at a railway station on the outskirts of Lubango, Angola, has been selected for a global travel exhibition in Athens, Greece. The image of bright blue seats and piercing sunlight under an array of diminishing ventilation fans, is one of Guy Needham's two photographs that will be exhibited at Blank Wall Gallery in Athens from late September. Part of a travel series taken in Angola for The Post, the image captures the stripped back utilitariuanism of public transport. < Previous Next >

Boston's Griffin Museum of Photography will be the first United States gallery to feature one of the Dani tribe from Indonesia's Papua region. < Back From Papua to Boston 15 Nov 2022 Boston's Griffin Museum of Photography will be the first United States gallery to feature one of the Dani tribe from Indonesia's Papua region. Although thousands of years old, the Dani were unknown to the rest of the world until 1938. Today they still live a simple life and, while not isolated from the march of modernity, their traditions and values have endured. The portrait of Lokop Mabel, pensive while smoking and wearing a traditional horim (penis gourd), will be part of the Winter Solstice exhibition on show in Massachusetts from 9 December 2022 - 8 January 2023. < Previous Next >

Pick up a copy of the New Zealand Herald's Travel magazine for my latest story on Bluff. The town known for those fat juicy you-know-whats, and the place where every New Zealand fundraising ride / walk / tour seems to end, is having a modern-day renaissance... < Back Not the Bluff you think you know 4 Mar 2024 Pick up a copy of the New Zealand Herald's Travel magazine for my latest story on Bluff. The town known for those fat juicy you-know-whats, and the place where every New Zealand fundraising ride / walk / tour seems to end, is having a modern-day renaissance... Bluff is one of the oldest settlements in New Zealand but rather than resting on its oyster laurels it's quickly becoming a destination of its own. From kai with a twist to the country's newest gin brewery to 'Rotten Row' to a unique pāua farm tour, Bluff isn't the small township you think you know. You can read all about it here . < Previous Next >