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< Back Hadzabe Girl at Center for Photographic Art 9 Apr 2021 Fresh on the back of winning silver in the 2020 SGIPA International Photography Awards, Hadzabe Girl has been selected from amongst 2000 submissions to be part of the Center of Photographic Art's 2021 Juried Exhibition As well as being displayed in the CPA gallery in California, the Dickens-esque image will be published in the 2021 MJE catalogue along with 40 other chosen images. < Previous Next >

Indonesia’s centuries-old shadow puppet-making tradition as practiced by artisans today​ < Back Wayang Kulit Makers of Java The Jungle Journal 16 Feb 2024 Indonesia’s centuries-old shadow puppet-making tradition as practiced by artisans today Y ogya (pron. Jo-Ja) is considered the cultural centre of Java, and post-independence from the Dutch, it was briefly the capital of Indonesia. Wayang kulit makers tend to live and work in the outskirts of this particular city, where the roads narrow and tyre stores give way to sugar cane. Wayang kulit , Indonesia’s sacred shadow puppet show, is a form of traditional theatre complete with gamelan orchestra and a puppet master called a dalang . It is mainly practiced in Java and Bali, based on Hindu stories such as the Mahabharata. Top shows cost over 50,000,000 IRP (£2,600) to put on, including the Dalang, gamelan orchestra and decorative set. However, during the COVID pandemic walang kulit shows were banned as large gatherings were prohibited, so the creators turned to producing work for collectors. Walang kulit puppets are produced on demand for both dalang and for collectors who spend tens of thousands of pounds to expand their collection. The true craftsmen follow the rules and customs set down centuries ago for the design and creation of the wayang kulit characters, which are far more intricate than souvenir versions. The production time for each puppet varries but ranges from two weeks to a month, depending on the amount of detailed work required. The puppets themselves are made of fine buffalo skin ( kulit means skin) which is sketched out, cut, shaped, sanded and then chiselled using a set of fine tools made from bicycle spokes. The puppets are then delicately painted; the more expensive wayang kulit puppets feature gold leaf imported from China. Some walang kulit makers use hammers made out of buffalo horn, and the rods, handling spine and joints are all made of buffalo bone. There are so many characters that when you ask the wayang kulit makers how many there are they tend to laugh and roll their eyes – every character has versions of the character as well. While these artisans all learnt at the hands of a master before them, the revival in interest in the last 25 years in Java’s cultural heritage has led to walang kulit courses now being taught at Yogyakarta’s ISI Faculty of Fine Arts (Jurusan Seni Murni FSR ISI). Those who collect walang kulit keep them in large coffin-like boxes, lying flat one on top of another, with each box dedicated to a craftsman. The mixing of puppets made by different makers would be noticed immediately. Collectors can spend tens of thousands of pounds on expanding their set of puppets, joining waitlists to secure the most prized gold leaf puppets. Old wayang kulit puppets are very treasured – I was shown one 150 years old. Traditional performances of walang kulit can last for up to nine hours although these days there are ‘cut down’ versions for shorter, younger attention spans. It is the dalang, the puppet master, who controls the marionettes, putting on different voices and improvising with topical news, politics, and religious subjects of the day. Supporting him is a gamelan orchestra, a collection of Indonesian percussive instruments that are played such harmony that it is considered part of gotorong royung – the life philosophy of working together to communally support each other. These shows and performances can be watched from the front where the colourful puppets appear as shadows illuminated by halogen lights, or from the back to see the dalang in action as the gamelan plays. This photo essay features: Mr Sarjiano , a walang kulit craftsman since 1980. Now operating out of a small workshop at the front of his house, he has been a guest presenter many times at schools to discuss and demonstrate his craft. Mr Jumakir , has been a walang kulit craftsman for 46 years and is now working out of one of the more well-known studios, Sagio Griya Ukir Kulit (Sagio Puppet Handicraft). Mr Suryadi , an extensive Wayang Kulit collector, who puts on shows once a week for local children to learn about the traditions at Kali Opak restaurant and gallery @kaliopak.wo Tour organized by Mr Deny , Yogyakarta Tour Guide Originally Published in The Jungle Journal < Previous Next >

< Back The Last Great Hunter-Gatherers 22 Dec 2023 "The leader reaches in between the freshly cut, drooping skin and through to the open organ cavity. Twisting his hand with a precision that only comes with age, he pulls out the bloody liver." The 23rd issue of The Travel Almanac, themed “Origins”, is packed with inspiring journeys and conversations, including my article on dinner with The Hadzabe. Part of a stunning 270-page hardcover, you can order your copy from The Travel Almanac here . < Previous Next >

The lion was just metres away now. “Look, he’s trying to find some shade so the meat doesn’t rot quickly,” whispered my guide, Nicholas. In the big cat’s mouth was a Maasai calf, being unceremoniously dragged across the plain towards a desert date tree. It was nature at its primeval best in Kenya’s most famous game park. < Back On Safari in the Masaii Mara Sunday Star-Times 2 Feb 2016 The lion was just metres away now. “Look, he’s trying to find some shade so the meat doesn’t rot quickly,” whispered my guide, Nicholas. In the big cat’s mouth was a Maasai calf, being unceremoniously dragged across the plain towards a desert date tree. It was nature at its primeval best in Kenya’s most famous game park. I was in the Maasai Mara in Africa’s Great Rift Valley, my first stop on a quest to see the Big Five. Not content with going to just one reserve, I’d also committed to the Mara’s lesser-known siblings: Nakuru National Park, Samburu National Reserve and Aberdare National Park. Nicholas was both my guide and driver, working for the safari company Seven by Far, and right now he was about as excited as I was. “Whatever you do, don’t open the door,” he added with a grin. The CB radio crackled softly as he spoke in Swahili to the other drivers. A gaggle of Land Cruisers gathered. Our shutters clicked, our mouths gaped. The lion glared back, baring his fangs, not impressed at all. Picking up the calf by what was left of its bloody neck, he dragged it further away through the long grass. One by one the Land Cruisers left. Then suddenly the radio was active again. A leopard had been spotted darting into a croton bush as a vehicle approached. By the time we joined the scene some of the drivers had been waiting for half an hour for it to emerge. Sure enough, the leopard – one of Africa’s most elusive predators – slunk its way out of the bush to the nearby waterhole before disappearing again. But the great Mara wasn’t finished with us just yet. There’d been one more sighting, so I held on tightly, standing under the popped roof as we raced back the way we’d come. A Thompson’s Gazelle had had the unfortunate pleasure of being hunted down by a coalition of cheetahs. The mother and her two camouflaged sons were only visible when they poked their heads above the dense foliage. As dusk approached the evening show ended and it was time to make our way back to the lodge. After spending a month in African huts with no electricity, no running water and no phone coverage, I’d decided to treat myself and stay at top-end accommodation. First up, the Sarova Mara Game Camp, winner of the World’s Top Luxury Safari Camp 2015. “Whatever you do, don’t open the door,” he added with a grin. “Karibu!” My host Nancy was all smiles. “Welcome, we’ll show you to your tent.” Huh, a tent? What the hell? OK, so I have to admit this wasn’t the “we’re-all-going-camping-whether-you-kids-like-it-or-not” type of tent. It was more of a bure complete with outside deck, wooden flooring, ensuite, bath, writing desk, complimentary toiletries, safe, wardrobe and all-important water. At night it even got ‘turned down’ with mosquito nets dropped, soft lighting switched on, and a hot water bottle left in my bed (yes, I know, in Kenya!) It made continuing my journey very difficult. While the Maasai Mara was great savannahs speckled with trees, Nakuru was the complete opposite: a forested reserve encompassing a lake. Hidden within the park itself was the aptly named Sarova Lion Hill Game Lodge, where I was welcomed with a refreshing face cloth and glass of fresh juice. Game drives in Kenya are usually early in the morning and then again late in the afternoon – the best times to catch the wildlife feeding and moving. This time however, the safari didn’t start so well. An Africanized Honey Bee took to me and Nicholas spent a good few minutes removing the venom stinger from my back. “If you thought that sting was a shock,” he said, trying to cheer me up, “wait ‘til you see this.” I really wasn’t in a cheering up mood. We drove past some impala. “There, look up.” High in front of us was the reason why so many tourists come to Nakuru. A lioness was casually stretched out on branch, paws dangling in the air (like she just didn’t care), oblivious to all who had stopped below her. Unique to this park in Kenya, Nakuru is one of the few places in the world where lions have learnt to climb trees. After about 30 minutes of her semi-dozing we moved on to Nakuru’s other rockstars – the black rhinoceros. Notoriously shy, and for good reason, we only got to see the rhinos from a distance but watched for long enough to appreciate their grazing ways. They were under the vigilant eye of the Kenyan Wildlife Service, whose armed wardens we encountered throughout the park, ready to fight poachers who would kill these animals for their horns. Kenya’s most famous game warden was Baba ya Simba (Father of Lions), known to us as George Adamson. George and his wife Joy adopted a young orphaned lioness that they named Elsa, who they later released into the wild. Joy’s book about their story, Born Free, went on to sell 5 million copies, was turned into an Academy Award-winning film, and won a Grammy for its eponymous theme song. I was headed to where it all started, Samburu National Park, and to get there I needed to cross the Equator. “Do you want to see the water demonstration?” asked the young man with the patter of someone who had done this before. “We are on the Equator now. 20 metres north you will see the water swirls through the hole in this bowl one way, and 20 metres south of this sign, the opposite way.” Sure enough, just metres into the Northern Hemisphere the water was draining clockwise. Down south it swirled anti-clockwise. On the Equator it went straight down. “Would you like to see my friend’s shop?” came the not unexpected follow-up. For probably more than I should have paid, I bought a carved stone memento. We were on our way north again through the cool highlands and lush farms dotting the landscape. Samburu is one of a troika of parks that includes Shaba and Buffalo Springs National Reserves. Best known for its giraffes and elephants, it also has the Ewaso Ng'iro River with its many and large crocodiles. A lioness was casually stretched out on branch, paws dangling in the air (like she just didn’t care). “Jambo! Welcome to the Sarova Shaba, home of Born Free. If you like you can view the crocodiles later from your window. But first, some lunch.” I’ve got to say, Kenya’s safari lodges really have their hospitality down pat. There is so much food on offer – Western, Kenyan, Indian – with three all-inclusive meals every day that you have to make sure you don’t go home with ‘excess luggage’. It was in Samburu‘s bush land that we had our closest encounter with elephants. We weren’t very far down a lesser-used track when a matriarch appeared – elephant families are lead by an older female – to assess the situation. One by one the other family members came out, the mother putting herself between us and her calf. She was smart, not wanting to challenge us but slowly moving into position to ensure we had to reverse. To see these remarkable, beasts so close, and to have them walk past just metres from you gives you a sense of what giants they are in the wild. The most graceful animals we encounted in Samburu were the giraffes. Gentle, pensive, deliberate, they loped into view reaching up to branches with their foot long black tongue. To hear them chewing softly with nothing else around was mesmerising. I was suddenly divided about whether zoos were a good idea or not. There was one more game park to visit. We headed back towards Nairobi, into the hills again and then out the other side, coffee plantations replacing fields of grain. As we rounded Mt Kenya the roads became smoother and busier, the shops more western and larger. Our next destination was Treetops Lodge in Aberdare National Park. “We did have you down for Room 19, but have upgraded you to the room next door. You may have heard of it, the Princess Elizabeth Suite.” I was shown to the exact same room a young princess was staying in when she found out that, due to the passing of her father, she was now Queen Elizabeth II. I wondered if Her Majesty looked out onto the same scene I was witnessing now. Like guests checking in, the elephants and buffalo arrived at 6pm on the dot, circling the watering hole in front of the hotel. Not that I needed to worry about missing them; the hotel has an ‘alarm’ system: one buzz for hyenas, two for a leopard, three for rhinos and four for elephants. At one stage I counted over 60 elephants in 5 different families rutting up the dirt with their trunks to lick the salt. For the first time in my life I went to bed with the sound of elephants snorting and roaring outside my window. Did touring the different game reserves work out for me? Yes, I got to see the Big Five – the African Lion, Leopard, Buffalo, Elephant and the Rhino – plus cheetahs, giraffes, zebras, hippos, baboons, monkeys, gazelles, dik diks and onyx. As Nicholas dropped me off in the leafy suburbs of Nairobi I felt a little sadness that the safari was all over. For the last time I got out of what had been my daytime home away from home. Nicholas smiled as we firmly shook hands, knowing that I had just experienced the greatest wildlife destination on the planet. Details Emirates flies from Auckland to Nairobi, via Australia and Dubai (24 hours). Most safari tours start in Nairobi but you can take domestic flights to get to your destination quicker. Roads in Kenya are good until you get near the parks themselves, where they change to unsealed. There are a variety of options available depending upon your budget and needs. For the discerning traveller, the Sarova Group offers award-winning game camp and lodge accommodation throughout Kenya. These include full board with all meals, premium rooms and cultural and game drive offerings (www.sarovahotels.com). Treetops Lodge in Aberdare National Park is the only lodge of its type in Kenya (www.aberdaresafarihotels.co.ke/treetops). Self-drive is not recommended due to the state of the roads, and you’ll miss out on the wisdom of guides. Safaribookings.com is the best place to start planning your trip, with over 1600 operators listed. Seven by Far (www.sevenbyfartourskenya.com) offers tours from 4 to 14 days, including the parks mentioned in this article. Most of the day will be spent in your 4x4, so don’t forget to put on insect repellent and have spare memory cards and batteries. Before you finish your trip take home a piece of Kenya with you – be it an ebony carving or a hand made silk scarf. While high-end lodges do take MasterCard and Visa, cash is still king. Tipping is expected, prepare to give 100 Kenyan Shillings per bag ported (approximately NZ$1.30). Make sure you have enough small notes with you. Usually the only additional costs you will have to pay for are drinks and other extras such as massages and washing. It is rare to find ATMs outside of the major cities. More Information: www.magicalkenya.com. Original publication: Sunday Star-Times < Previous Next >

< Back The Hadzabe go to the US 4 Dec 2018 Hadzabe Smoker, the lead image of The Hadzabe of Tanzania series, will have its US debut next month in the SE Center for Photography. The image, taken in northern Tanzania in the dry season of 2018, will be on show from January 4-27 in the city of Greenville, South Carolina, next to a number of American and International photography works. < Previous Next >

< Back Lone Star State of Mind 3 May 2016 “Y’all not from round here, are ya? Ain’t nobody drinks Buuuud." Ever wondered what it's like in a true cowboy town in southern Texas? Guy Needham's latest article about exploring small towns in the Big State is the cover story of this week's New Zealand Herald's travel section. Check it out here . < Previous Next >

I was warned about getting shot in Colombia. The balaclava, reflective sunglasses and combat fatigues in the southern city of Pasto were a giveaway. I should have just run. Instead, I'm hit twice - not with bullets but with white foam shooting out of a canister by a 12-year old boy shouting “Viva Pasto!” < Back Colour in the Streets Get Lost Magazine 6 Apr 2018 I was warned about getting shot in Colombia. The balaclava, reflective sunglasses and combat fatigues in the southern city of Pasto were a giveaway. I should have just run. Instead, I'm hit twice - not with bullets but with white foam shooting out of a canister by a 12-year old boy shouting “Viva Pasto!” That gushing “spssstttttttt” was my intro to El Carnaval de Negros y Blancos (Black and Whites' Carnaval), a five day party held in January that just happens to be the world’s biggest foam fight. The Carnaval is the loudest, longest and messiest festival in southern Colombia, and a real celebration of cultures. To be fair, at the time the trigger is pulled I’m distracted by street vendors yelling, “Some goggles for you, senõr ? A sombrero, cheap?”Now I understand why. Of course, in truehorse-bolted fashion, I purchase a ridiculouslyoversized sombrero and a ‘foam-proof’ poncho to protect myself. Post splatter, I sheepishly make my way back to the hotel. The security-conscious manager, Jaime, is waiting behind a locked door. Letting me in with a chuckle, he looks at me with pity. “You got shot on your first day?! Bienvenido a Colombia! ” After cleaning myself up, I cautiously head towards Plaza del Carnaval, the main square of Pasto and the centrepiece of all things Carnaval. My peripheral vision is working overtime – it seems like every second person is armed with a carioca, an aluminium foam canister, cocked at the ready. Squeezing in next to a family, I proudly introduce myself in halting Spanish, adding “ Viva Pasto!” as if it is some sort of protective cloak. We are jostling among the thousands who have gathered to celebrate La Familia Castañeda – a colourful family who, when they arrived in Pasto in 1929, walked smack-bang into the middle of a horse parade and started randomly waving to the crowd. The Castañeda family became so popular they now have a dedicated parade in their honour. The vibe is electric. We cheer on the performers dressed in 1920s attire as they dance and sing their way past the masses, their vibrant costumes lighting up the parade like the hot Colombian sun. The performance is barely finished before I am hit with foam again, but this time it gets me in the mouth. In an attempt to escape, I hurtle down the main street and find myself at a security checkpoint to a concert, being pat down by a member of the policia. What an entry to Colombia I’ve made. I decide to take it all in my festival-stride and finish the night with a chorizo and a few local Poker pale ales. The next morning Jamie intercepts me as I’m leaving to hit the streets on day four of the Carnaval. “Hey, you got Vaseline?” he whispers. It seems like an oddly personal question. “Huh?” I reply. “Your face,” he says, “the Vaseline, to get grease off.” This is his not-so-subtle way of warning me that it is Dia de Negros (Day of the Blacks). This event marks the day African slaves were freed, and it’s now celebrated with partygoers taking to the streets with black paint smeared across their faces as a sign of respect, symbolising the unity between all ethnicities. My peripheral vision is working overtime – it seems like every second person is armed with a carioca Paint decorates the faces of the masses, and before long I realise I should have taken his advice and packed the Vaseline. My own face gets smudged and I’m greeted back to the hotel with a shake of the head and a smile from Jamie sending a telepathic ‘I told you so’. The pinnacle of the Carnaval is the Grand Parade that falls on Dia de Blancos (The Day of the Whites). This is the cause of all the foam, flour bombs and talcum powder, but before the war starts, a spectacular kaleidoscope of floats takes to the streets. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The floats are covered in colourful and intricate details, and showers of confetti and streamers rain down as tiers of performers dance atop the four-storey-high structures. Cumbia rhythms blast from massive speakers and mechanical heads roar and bob about to the beat alongside the larger-than-life costumedcharacters who dance the streets lined with an enthusiastic crowd. I feel a hand close around my arm and I’m pulled towards a woman. It’s La Lloronda , the legendary ghost who steals children, and she is not to be denied. Doing my best not to look uncoordinated, we salsa Cali-style, spinning and twirling throughout the parade to the sound of laughter, cheers and applause from my fellow spectators. After five hours the show finally comes to an end. Looking around, there is now more white stuff on the ground than in any episode of Narcos. The foam battles have already started up again so I’m pretty grateful there is only 200 metres between my hotel room and my location. Not close enough, it would seem. The powder hits me square on the ear, and it’s impossible not to grin from that one to the other. “ Arriba Pasto! ” Details Get there: Qantas flies to Santiago, Chile, and then take connecting flights on Latam or Avianca from Santiago to Bogota to Pasto www.qantas.com . It is best to arrange a transfer in advance from the airport to your hotel, which should cost approximately 40,000 Colombian Pesos ($18) for the 45min ride. Wear a seatbelt. Stay there: The Hotel Boutique Casa Lopez is perfectly placed between the Plaza del Carnaval and Plaza de Narino – a more casual fun square. The hotel is built in the Spanish style, with restaurant on site, free wi-fi throughout, friendly staff and a relaxed atmosphere. www.facebook.com/hotelcasalopezpasto or on www.Booking.com . Four nights cost 858,000 Colombian Pesos ($377 Tour there: Your hotel manager can arrange local guides, and it’s probably the best way to go as they know their reputation depends on it. You don’t need a guide to the festival, and best of all it’s free. Just get there early and buy a plastic stool off the vendors. Get Informed: Check out Off2Colombia as starting point www.off2colombia.com . The best site about the Carnaval has detail of what to expect every day and is… only in Spanish. Get the Google Translate extension for Chrome or Safari and check out www.carnavaldepasto.org Get in the Know Pablo Escobar was arrested in Pasto when he was caught smuggling 18 kilos of cocaine into Colombia from Peru in truck tires The local culinary delicacy is Guinea Pig, ‘cuy’, which tends to be available roasted. Mmmmmmm. Pasto was founded by the Spanish conquistador Sebastián de Belalcázar in 1537 as he plundered his way south Road rules are more a ‘guide’ as taxi drivers play chicken with petrol tankers on the mountain roads 8000 feet above sea level Near Pasto is the spectacular Las Lajas Sanctuary, a gothic bridge-church built on the site of an apparition of the Virgin Mary. Original publication: Get Lost Magazine < Previous Next >

< Back LA meets Siberut 27 Jun 2018 Aman Ipai, one of the feature images of Guy Needham's The Mentawai of Indonesia series, has been selected by the Los Angeles Centre of Photography for a group exhibition. The photograph, taken as he stood in the doorway of his uma on the island of Siberut, will be available for Angelenos to see in person from July 19th - September 7th. < Previous Next >

< Back Urban 2018 Photo Awards 26 Jun 2018 Guy Needham's Shades of Otara has been chosen as a Selected Series in the dotArt Urban 2018 Photo Awards out of 4,460 photos and 272 portfolios from around the world. The series, taken in South Auckland's Otara markets over a period of years, will now be considered for an exhibition to be held in the Italian city of Trieste later this year. < Previous Next >

PROJECTS Māori Wardens Aotearoa / New Zealand There are approximately 700 Māori Wardens who play an intrinsic role in improving the wellbeing of whānau and communities in Aotearoa New Zealand. Māori Wardens are not police, but they have legal responsibilities under the Māori Community Development Act 1962 and they give their time to supporting communities. The guiding principles of a Māori Warden is respect, awhi, aroha, and whānaungatanga. Previous Next

A pencil case, keeper of memories and three-way pens, lives in that no-mans-land of utilitarian nostalga and scholastic glory. In Lisbon, a city known for its leatherwork, a pencil case is much more than a convenient carrier; it’s a culmination of artisanal training, pre-cut patterns and naked flame. < Back The making of a pencil case Substack 10 Oct 2025 A pencil case, keeper of memories and three-way pens, lives in that no-mans-land of utilitarian nostalga and scholastic glory. In Lisbon, a city known for its leatherwork, a pencil case is much more than a convenient carrier; it’s a culmination of artisanal training, pre-cut patterns and naked flame. Half-way up the cobblestoned Rua Arco de Graca, behind the fresh façade of Di Zocco sits Leonardo di Croce, bent over his vintage Pfaff sewing machine, heel-toe technique on full display as the needle pumps furiously. An Argentine native who began leathercrafting with his brother in Buenos Aires, di Croce loosely follows in the footsteps of his cobbler grandfather and leathersmith uncle. Now plying his trade in Portugal, his unfussy shop-cum-studio welcomes visitors with purposely placed samples lining wooden shelves. Out the back, an old fan unevenly oscillates, wafting the soft, homely aroma emanating from a mélange of offcuts. Choosing a piece of leather, di Croce tugs at it tenderly to check for blemishes. Taking a blade to the Portuguese cow hide he traces around a well-worn pattern, carefully pushing against the metal workbench. The outline for the pencil case is deceptively simple – two shapes – versus the more complex ‘Jimmy’ messenger or ‘Sam’ backpack (each bag is named after its first customer). He precisely threads the leather through a thinning skiver, pushing out a smooth bevelled edge on the other side. Transferring glue from large jar to small, he fastidously wipes his hands on his denim apron, before patting down the adhesive using a fine brush. There are no plastic caps or excessive cloth inserts here; Di Croce follows a maxim passed on by another old hand, ‘If it is leather, show the leather.’ Concentration on his face, tongue between his lips, he expertly guides the Gutermann polyester thread along the zip line. Cigarette lighter and micro scissors in hand, di Croce snips and sears off the final loose threads before turning it all inside out. A smooth, rich dark brown, hand-crafted pencil case is revealed, ready to sit on the shelf and be named after the next customer. < Previous Next >

< Back Shoot The Frame book out now 30 May 2019 Two of Guy Needham's portraits - Aman Teutagougou and Hadzabe Smoker - grace the pages of the latest Shoot The Frame photobook. They are just two of the 360 photographs from photographers around the globe that were winners or finalists of the 2018 Shoot The Frame International Photography Awards. The book is now available for purchase from Blurb . < Previous Next >