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< Back Yellowstone meets Warkworth 3 Jan 2024 The Warkworth Rodeo, held north of Auckland New Zealand, didn't disappoint with its annual gathering of cowboys and cowgirls. Featuring all the favourites including Team roping, Breakaway, Barrel Racing, Novice steer riding, Bareback, Open Bull Ride and Steerwrestling, there was a packed crowd of local fans appreciating some fancy skills. You can check out some images here . < Previous Next >

< Back Greece welcomes Éxi Fylés 9 Feb 2019 Last night Éxi Fylés (six tribes) opened at the Blank Wall Gallery in Athens, with a show-and-tell opening night. Guy Needham talked about the 'other side' of taking photos including his adventures from watching women self-flagellate to getting carjacked to hunting baboons. The collection of 50 images can be seen here. < Previous Next >

< Back Monochrome in Hungary 23 May 2019 Aman Ipai, one of the lead images in The Mentawai of Indonesia series, has been selected as part of a group Monochrome exhibition to be held in Budapest next month. The black and white portrait will be one of 35 international images on show at the PH21 Gallery from June 6-29. < Previous Next >

TRAVEL PROJECTS

< Back Colours of Colombia 16 Jan 2018 "All the fun of the fiesta in Latin America" is captured on the cover of the latest New Zealand Herald travel magazine. From the arm-grabbing La Lloranda to getting shot on the streets of Pasto, Guy Needham's latest adventure in Colombia takes you to the most colourful Festival of the Blacks and the Whites on earth. < Previous Next >

< Back Tower to the People 8 Oct 2019 "Squinting up, we could make out a young girl in a red helmet scrambling towards the top. The crowd was told to shush. Plaça de Sant Juame fell silent as we held our collective breath..." In the cover story of today's New Zealand Herald Travel section you'll find out what happened next, plus get a taste of what else goes on in Barcelona's Festival of Festivals. < Previous Next >

< Back Yunita Mabel wins Bronze 30 Nov 2022 Fresh off winning the Portrait award for Shoot The Frame, and ashowing at the Indian Photography Festival, this image of Yunita Mabel has just won Bronze at the Budapest International Foto Awards. The strong portrait which has echoes of the Mona Lisa was taken in Anemoigi village in West Papua, Indonesia, and will be on display in Hungary in 2023. Like other Dani women, Yunita plays the traditional role expected of females in the tribe - cooking, cleaning, and looking after the children - and lives separately from the men in the village. < Previous Next >

< Back Hadzabe Girl wins Silver 30 Aug 2022 Hadzabe Girl has won Silver at the prestigious 2022 Prix de la Photographie de Paris in France. The Dickenesque portrait of a young child in wonder has now earned accolades across the United States, Australasia and Europe. The image was taken in the Laye Eyasi district of Tanzania as she stood under a rock ledge; her face revealing an inner strength belying her age. Hadzabe Girl will be shown in Paris in November 2022. < Previous Next >

< Back New Zealand Camera 2020 20 Aug 2020 Hadzabe Girl has been included in the just-released 2020 New Zealand Camera Book. Put together by the New Zealand Photographic Society, the book i s a hard cover, full colour, coffee-table collectible with images portraying all genres of photographs taken by New Zealand artists. You'll be able to purchase your own copy from here soon. < Previous Next >

“Why Albania?” “Why not?” “What have they done to us?” “What have they done for us?” “Nothing….” “See, they keep to themselves. Shifty. Untrustable.” < Back Why Albania Let's Travel 4 Jun 2015 “Why Albania?” “Why not?” “What have they done to us?” “What have they done for us?” “Nothing….” “See, they keep to themselves. Shifty. Untrustable.” No, not a weird conversation about where to holiday but a scene from Wag The Dog, where Robert De Niro and Dustin Hoffman are deciding who America should go to war with. Thankfully it never happened, but if it had you can bet Albania would have been ready. Dotted along its coastline are thousands of concrete bunkers to protect it from invasion - the paranoid legacy of communist dictator Enver Hoxha. It had been 20 years since communism had died and I was in Albania to see how much the country had changed. To the outside world Albania is still a mystery; a former Socialist People’s Republic “somewhere near Greece where everyone is poor and backward and ride donkeys and the women have moustaches” (they don’t). Sure, it’s not the most advanced country in the world but that’s what makes it so unique. Where else would you see grass being cut on the main square with a scythe? Or a foreign street named after George W Bush? My quest to discover today’s Albania began in its capital, Tirana. In the 1990s the former mayor - himself an artist - came up with the idea of painting the ubiquitous apartment blocks different colours, to brighten up residents’ lives. As a result the city’s a lot more attractive these days, but it’s never going to win a beauty pageant. No matter, what Tirana lacks in looks it makes up for in character. From the never-ending cacophony of horns as three-wheeled trucks fight with motorbikes navigating Skanderbeg Square, to elderly men warily drinking tea to pass the time of day, the capital of Albania is truly a mish-mash of east meets west with a victor yet to be decided. As the capital, all roads lead to Tirana and you certainly know when you’re on them. “Pot-holed” is an understatement but bouncing up and down in the back of a furgon taxi adds to the sense of adventure. In typical Balkan fashion these shared taxis have no set schedule (nor departure point for that matter); as soon as they’re full, they’re off. I managed to catch an early morning one and only had to wait 15 minutes before the chugging Mercedes starting making its way to my next destination, Berat. After two hours of Albanian viba-train I was relieved to finally arrive. “Somewhere near Greece where everyone is poor and backward and ride donkeys and the women have moustaches” Berat is a charming 2400 year old Ottoman town with houses built one on top of another, earning itself the moniker ‘Town of a Thousand Windows’. I was excitedly met by my host and taken to his ‘welcome room’ for a shot of rakija (a fermented alcoholic drink that’s probably illegal elsewhere). The room itself was magic: traditional curved brick walls, pigeons cooing on the sill, strings of onions hanging from rafters, and the waft of slowly cooking lamb. Another rakija was poured. “Are you going to the Xhiro tonight?” he asked. “It’s Monday so it should be good.” He pointed down to the town. The Xhiro (pronounced ‘giro’), as it turns out, is one of the most curious rituals I have come across. At a time when we might be watching primetime TV the inhabitants of Berat are walking back and forth down a closed off boulevard, dressed to the nines like its 1987. Furtive glances are exchanged as Europop seeps from the cafes. This is dating, Albania-style. In a country where pre-marriage relations are frowned upon and the Western version of ‘going out’ is non-existent, the nightly Xhiro is the one opportunity to size up potential partners. Like someone? Your relatives can talk to their relatives. We joined in – the walking, not the dating – and amongst the fried sweetcorn hawkers and popped collars you could sense the locals enjoying themselves. Berat was also where I saw another sign that times have changed. Mount Shpirag, behind the entrance to the township, once had the name “Enver” (after the former dictator) spelt out in huge letters on the mountainside. Today they’ve been rearranged to spell “N.E.V.E.R” – a very large, defiant statement not to repeat the past. Of course not all of the past was bad. My guide, a Tirana native who had spent much of his life in construction openly opined, “Under communism, we always had a job. No matter how small. Now look around you.” He waved his arm across the square. Men of working age were sitting around doing not much. It was 2:30pm on a weekday. He did admit though that since ‘freedom’ he now had enough money to send his daughter to Germany to study which he would never have been able to do “in the old days”. The final stop on my journey was Shkodra, a town bordering Montenegro. With a castle above and lake below it prides itself as being a little more Balkan-esque than the rest of Albania. Certainly, it has its fair share of al fresco restaurants, tourist-oriented ‘lodges’ and fresh food stalls; Shkodra was a cosmopolitan surprise. One of my favourite moments happened just as I was leaving town and looking to spend the last of my LEK on some meaningful souvenirs. An old woman at the bus stop dangled some woollen socks in my face in the hope that this foreigner would buy them - despite me sweltering in the 35 degree heat. I followed her back to her knitting, and after much hand gesticulation I gave her cash, she gave me some socks, and topped it off with an Albanian ‘smile’. As the bus pulled out I gave her a wee nod, and thought about all the changes she’d seen. After 20 years, capitalism had replaced communism and pester-power had replaced paranoia. The Albania of old was no longer there and yet, as the country was finding itself – with infrastructure and systems still to come – I felt lucky to have seen the Albania of today, knowing that it’s special quality would change again 20 years from now. < Previous Next >

< Back Hadzabe Kudu in F-Stop magazin 2 Jun 2020 Online photography magazine F-Stop has included two of the Hadzabe series in its June issue - Hadzabe Boy and Hadzabe Kudu. The magazine features contemporary photography from established and emerging photographers from around the world with each issue's theme uniting photographs to create a dynamic dialogue among the artists. < Previous Next >

“Smash it on the head” yelled Geranio, our guide. “Quick!” The freshly caught piranha was flip-flopping in a desperate attempt to get back to water, sharp teeth biting at air as I brought a rotting stick down upon its head. Minewa, a 60-year old local tribesman, added it to his string of dead fish and smiled at me. “Now you are a warrior!’”, laughed Geranio. < Back When Two Worlds Collide Sunday Star-Times 25 Feb 2018 “Smash it on the head” yelled Geranio, our guide. “Quick!” The freshly caught piranha was flip-flopping in a desperate attempt to get back to water, sharp teeth biting at air as I brought a rotting stick down upon its head. Minewa, a 60-year old local tribesman, added it to his string of dead fish and smiled at me. “Now you are a warrior!’”, laughed Geranio. We were fishing in the Amazon Basin on the edge of the world’s most bio-diverse ecosystem. I was there to spend time with the Waorani, one of Ecuador’s indigenous tribes who today number no more than 3,000. Not that any of that mattered to the piranha. Getting to the Amazon had been no easy task. Far from the cobblestones and thin mountain air of colonial Quito, it had taken us two days by boat. I say ‘us’ because I wasn’t the only tourist onboard; sitting ahead of me was a machete-wielding, coca-chewing, bird spotting Dutch sociologist. He had been travelling for three months now and had something of a gaunt Colonel Kurtz of Apocalypse Now look about him. The Cononaco River - one of the feeders to the 1000km Rio Napo - was low as the rains hadn’t come. The upside was that the bird and animal life were a zoologist’s dream. As we skimmed logs and scraped rocks, a Black Vulture screeched in the distance. Overhead a pair of White Throated Toucans flopped from one river bank to the other. Squinting into the Sun we could make out an Amazon Kingfisher, perched on the far branch of an even farther tree. He had been travelling for three months now and had something of a gaunt Colonel Kurtz of Apocalypse Now look about him. “Look”, exclaimed my new Dutch companion. Bringing our eyes back down to earth, he pointed to a strange animal gazing on the river bank – thin long snout, big bushy tail - a cross between a giant raccoon and a stretched pig. With a nonchalant glance the Giant Anteater ambled back into the grass behind it. On we continued. As we approached another curve Geranio abruptly raised his fist. The engine was cut. Off the bow we saw movement, a pale fin cutting through the calm brown waters. Then bubbles – and we watched in awe as a rare Amazon Pink Dolphin surfaced 30metres from us. The largest dolphin of its kind had just made our day. Still on a high by the time we got to our destination, we disembarked through the mud carrying water, camping gear and cooking supplies. I’d prepped myself for meeting the Waorani. Having been with tribes in Africa, Asia and the Pacific, I knew to expect very basic conditions, traditionally dressed people and a limited understanding of the modern world. How wrong I was. I found something even more fascinating – a tribe in transition between two worlds. While the older members were traditionally (un)dressed, the rest of the tribe were in Westernised clothing. While their malookas (huts) were built using no nails, concrete bricks were lined up for construction of new houses. While we had taken two days to get there by boat, there was an airstrip down the middle of the village. And while they hunted using blowguns and poison darts, the Wi-Fi kicked on every night. The dichotomy that intrigued me. Minewa was the personification of the old ways. With his stretched ear lobes dangling under his long hair, naked aside from twine tying up his foreskin, it was he who led us on our first hunting expedition. As we started out he gave me a closer look at his weapons. His blowgun was over 2metres long and perfectly straight, its pre-poisoned darts in a cylinder looped over his shoulder. Just as impressive was his spear, sharpened to a point with slight notches to make it difficult for monkeys to pull out. Following Minewa’s lead we crept as quietly as two non-Amazonians can creep. The deeper into the jungle we got, the more distinctive the loud calls of the Howler Monkeys. Suddenly Minewa took off – spear raised above his head. By the time we caught up to him he was frozen, staring down at a salt lick between a group of trees. Ahead of us were a family of Collared Peccaries (pigs) snorting through the undergrowth. With an almighty throw and not a single word, Minewa launched the spear at the boar. Narrowly missing by inches, the family rapidly grunted off, Minewa in close chase behind. When he returned half an hour later with nothing more than a look of resignation it was time to return to the village. On the way back I asked about the changes he must have seen in this lifetime. The Waorani, I was told, were only ‘discovered’ by Europeans in the 1950s. That is now four generations ago since the average age of childbirth is 16. But it wasn’t until we got to the village that we were shown the biggest impact on their way of life. Standing in front of a map, Geranio drew a circle around the Waorani territory that is officially part of the 10,000km2 Parque National Yusumi. A red line marked the border with Peru, and green shading showed where two ‘uncontacted’ tribes still roam. Most noticeable though were Bloque Petroleum – areas where the Ecuadorian government have allowed oil exploration and drilling despite the national park being a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. Suddenly Minewa took off – spear raised above his head. By the time we caught up to him he was frozen, staring down at a salt lick between a group of trees. It was the oil industry that had brought electricity to the Waorani, levelled the airstrip, introduced the internet and built a covered basketball court, although obviously not everyone agreed with this ‘progress’. As Geranio spoke, the Dutchman and I looked around. It was nature that made the place so special, not the material things that had been brought in from the outside. Despite the accelerated change the tribe was going though, despite the encroachment into their traditional lands, the Waorani simply wanted to protect their environment. A few days later it was time to say our farewells and get back in the motorized canoe for the two day journey home. Minewa had picked up that we were sad to be leaving, but even sadder about what was happening to the tribe. As we got onboard he gave us a big broad smile and said something to Geranio. “It’ll be aright, he wants to let you know. The spirits and Mother Earth will look after them as they always have.” And with that final wave of optimism we headed back up the Cononaco, towards ominous dark clouds covering the jungle canopy, hoping that for a little while longer the Waorani can hold on to their traditional way of life. Details Getting there: Air New Zealand flies direct to Houston with a connecting United flight to Quito. Domestic Avianca flights fly from Quito to El Coca, which is the starting point for any Ecuadorian Amazon adventure Staying there: You can choose to base yourself at one of the river lodges throughout the basin or take a tour staying in tents in the villages. Ask your tour company for options. Exploring there: Your accommodation will determine how you explore the area, but you will go by boat and by foot. Depending on your level of fitness, you can go on jungle walks for the whole day or go birdwatching for an hour Services there: The lodges are fully equipped, and even if you camp at the villages your tour guide is likely to have a chef with him. There are no ATMs or credit card facilities so it is best to take small notes of the Ecuadorian currency with is US Dollars. More Information: www.ecuadorecoadventures.com www.yasuninationalpark.org Original publication: Sunday Star-Times < Previous Next >