Y’all not from round here, are ya? Ain’t nobody drinks Budddd. This is Shiner Bock country, sir.” And with that the barman passed over a golden-labelled bottle of ale. I was in Luckenbach, Texas, population 3, a small town in the Hill Country west of San Antonio. < Back Deep in the Heart of Texas New Zealand Herald 3 May 2016 Y’all not from round here, are ya? Ain’t nobody drinks Budddd. This is Shiner Bock country, sir.” And with that the barman passed over a golden-labelled bottle of ale. I was in Luckenbach, Texas, population 3, a small town in the Hill Country west of San Antonio. It was to be the starting point for an adventure deep into the heart of Texas, a road trip to discover the smaller side of the big state. The Hill Country is known as much for its wildflowers and Harley-hugging roads as it is for being in the Bible Belt of America – a place where God meets guns, traffic yields to longhorns, and TexMex and ribs are a staple diet. Even the towns have great names; you can travel to Welfare in the morning, visit Comfort in the afternoon and spend the night in Utopia. ‘Luckenbach, Texas’ was made famous by a Waylon Jennings song and is not so much a town as a gathering of buildings. Located just off Highway 290, the post office is also the general store and the saloon is out back. It’s renowned for its live music scene so we arrived in time to see the ‘picker circle’ – an improvised mish-mash of musicians who gather under an old oak tree and pass around a pick, each playing a song with the others joining in. "Da-da ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding, diiinnng," the unmistakable sound of a banjo was slowly echoed by a guitar, "Da-da ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding, diiinnng.” Everybody chuckled at Duelling Banjos being played, and I half expected someone to call out “Squeal like a pig, boy!” as a nod to Deliverance. Thankfully it was not to be as the banjo player ended with a flourish before passing the pick to the young cowboy on his right. He broke straight into that ol’ country classic, “Cocaine’s gonna kill my honey dead.” It was time to explore. Not far from the circle in front of a wooden building sat Cassey, co-owner of the Snail Creek Hat Co. “Howdy, y’all look like you need a hat!” While I didn’t take her up on her offer I did ask about what’s in style. “Welllllll,” she drawled, “Over yonder you can see that they come in all shapes and sizes,” pointing to the audience. “I used to be able to tell a Texan from a Dakotan just by looking at their hat but now it’s about personal preference.” She and her husband Glen use water to shape the unstructured palm leaf hats they get in. “In West Texas they angle the brim like this,” she said, folding in the sides like a paper dart. “It means the hat’s more aerodynamic and the winds just pass right on through.” Much as I was tempted to buy a cowboy hat, I opted instead to see the real thing in action, and where better than the Cowboy Capital of the World. Even the towns have great names; you can travel to Welfare in the morning, visit Comfort in the afternoon and spend the night in Utopia. Bandera, Texas, earned its moniker after the Great Western Cattle Trail drives of the 1880s, where at one stage there were more cattle and cowboys going through the main street than all the other cattle trails in the United States. More recently they’ve had a number of rodeo champions come from Bandera, which just gives extra points to their town spurs. Everywhere you look there are authentic buildings, early Americana and signs advertising the next rodeo (Friday). We were here to see the most Western event of them all – the gunslingers shootout.Every weekend the Bandera Cattle Company celebrates its heritage with a re-enactment of real scenarios from the town’s past. Taking a seat on the bleachers behind the Visitors Centre we watched as the period costumed cowboys slowly took up their positions, one drinking ‘whisky’, another playing cards, and our host, Dennis, sharing some of the local history. “God damn, that wasn’t meant to happen!” Dennis had just shot himself in the groin with a blank. It looked like it hurt. “You’re as dumb as a box of hammers!” yelled one of his compatriots to much laughter from the crowd. The show went on for an hour, with kids having the chance to be deputised afterwards. It was enough motivation for me to take the plunge and go buy some cowboy boots. After much assistance I settled on a pair of Justin’s that have been produced since 1879, “Made by his daddy’s daddy and his daddy’s granddaddy before him.” Quite chuffed with my new purchase we rocked up to our accommodation, a Texan ‘dude ranch’. There are a number of dude ranches near Bandera that offer accommodation, meals and activities all rolled into one – think of it as AirBnB meets the Warkworth Rodeo. We chose the Twin Elm “For Western Fun.” As it was getting dark when we arrived the owner pointed us towards the campfire and invited us to join her for ‘s’mores’. S’mores are a Texan treat where you roast marshmallows over a fire ‘til they’re ohhh-so-gooey and then add them to a graham cracker topped with a slice of chocolate. With full tummies the next morning we took advantage of our surrounds with a horse ride led by some of the local hands. Wading through the Medina River, past the fallen trees and down the trail, we got to experience their daily life at a leisurely pace. Bandera was also where I discovered how deeply ingrained religion is. On the way into town we noticed a number of flags at half-mast. I politely enquired when we got there, “We saw some of the flags were at half mast, has someone important died?” The lady stared straight back at me and said, “Jesus”. It was Good Friday. Moving on quickly after insulting the entire state of Texas, our next stop on the small town tour was Fredericksburg. Established by a German baron in 1846 after signing a peace treaty with the Comanche Indians, the town is considered the capital of Hill Country. Fredericksburg’s main claim to fame is being the birthplace of Admiral Chester Nimitz who led the US Pacific naval effort in World War II. The town houses the fantastic National Museum of the Pacific War and it made me proud to see the New Zealand flag flying (at full mast). “God damn, that wasn’t meant to happen!” Dennis had just shot himself in the groin with a blank. It looked like it hurt. The best part of Fredericksburg however is just outside of town. It’s called Wine Road 290 and comprises 15 different wineries in the area. In Texas a winery does not necessary mean a vineyard; it could simply be wine retailer. We didn’t let a wee detail like that put us off as we slowly pulled in to The Vintage Cellar. We’d already tried some of the local Bending Branch ‘Thinkers Blanc’ so that was a mandatory buy, but what caught my eye was the “Pour It Forward” chalkboard. Like a ‘random act of kindness’, the idea is to buy someone a drink in advance by writing up an occupation on the board. Unfortunately, no one had written ‘Parched Kiwi’ but if I’d been a fireman, marine, zookeeper or teacher it would have been a very boozy afternoon. Leaving the Hill Country the next day we noticed that the landscape had changed, speckled with political billboards. Texas is staunchly Republican – represented by Senator Ted Cruz – and even here it’s hard to escape the slogans in the midst of an election campaign. Looking around as the last of the sun’s rays lit up the wildflowers on the side of the road, we passed a “Make America Great Again” sign. Something tells me that the locals don’t have anything to worry about. This land of cowboys has never had a problem being great. Details Stay: www.twinelmranch.com Getting there: Air New Zealand flies direct Auckland to Houston (14 hours); Houston to San Antonio is a 1 hour flight; Hill Country is a 1 hour drive away Websites: www.luckenbachtexas.com www.banderacowboycapital.com Visas: Apply online for the USA ESTA visa waiver for up to 90 days Location: Hill Country, Texas, USA Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

No one knows exactly where they originally came from, not even their chief. The first indigenous inhabitants of the Onconcua region in southwestern Angola, the semi-nomadic Vatwa are one of the few tribes that imitate the dress of another, the Himba. TRIBES The Vatwa Oncocua, Angola No one knows exactly where they originally came from, not even their chief. The first indigenous inhabitants of the Onconcua region in southwestern Angola, the semi-nomadic Vatwa are one of the few tribes that imitate the dress of another, the Himba. < Previous Next >

Numbering no more than 3,000, the Waorani live on the edge of the Amazon basin. Like many indigenous peoples they are a tribe in transition - hunting with blowguns and poisonous darts is giving way to nightly wi-fi and televised football. TRIBES The Waorani Territorio Waorani, Ecuador Numbering no more than 3,000, the Waorani live on the edge of the Amazon basin. Like many indigenous peoples they are a tribe in transition - hunting with blowguns and poisonous darts is giving way to nightly wi-fi and televised football. < Previous Next >

The lead travel story in today's Sunday Star-Times is my experience of meeting the Waorani tribe in the Ecuadorian Amazon - and what I did not expect. < Back Warriors with wi-fi 25 Feb 2018 The lead travel story in today's Sunday Star-Times is my experience of meeting the Waorani tribe in the Ecuadorian Amazon - and what I did not expect. From fishing for piranha to going hunting with blowguns, it was the transition the tribe is going through that made the trip so fascinating. Read the full article here. < 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 Sunday Star-Times 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. Original publication: Sunday Star-Times < Previous Next >

“Li-ber-tat! Li-ber-tat!” The chant was sweeping across the square like a Catalan wave. The crowd ignored the soaring heat to remind the world that their pro-independence leaders were still in exile or jail. “Libertat-del-presos-politics!!” < Back Barcelona Nights New Zealand Herald 13 Oct 2019 “Li-ber-tat! Li-ber-tat!” The chant was sweeping across the square like a Catalan wave. The crowd ignored the soaring heat to remind the world that their pro-independence leaders were still in exile or jail. “Libertat-del-presos-politics!!” But we weren’t here for the politicians; we were waiting for one of city’s most anticipated traditions - the Castellers de Barcelona. Dating back to the 1800s, these human towers originated in southern Spain and have been gleefully adopted by Catalonia. “Do you think we’ll become part of the foundations?!” chuckled my new American crowd-friend. Before I could answer, dozens of mauve-shirted castellers surged forward, pushing us apart. As they jostled into position, the big men lined up in four directions to form a base. Like an organic mass of human endeavour the climbing began. Feet on shoulders, hands on sashes, arms on waists. 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. Then there she was, eight levels up raising her hand at the top of the castell, and the cheering erupted again. This was, after all, the peak of La Mercè. La Mercè is Barcelona’s ‘festival of festivals’, a tribute to the Patron Saint Virgen de La Mercè who is credited with ending a plague of locusts upon the city. What began as a religious observation in the Middle Ages is now a heady mix of street theatre, dance, music and pyrotechnics with over 2,000 performers taking part. I was one of approximately 1.5 million visitors expected over the five-day festival, and being the geek I am I downloaded the app, threw on some walking shoes and off I went. The wide-ranging schedule meant killing time between the afternoon and night activities but luckily I had two Spanish friends to keep me company in the sun-drenched Plaça Reial – Señor Paella and Señorita Cerveza… The crowd was told to shush. Plaça de Sant Juame fell silent as we held our collective breath. Well-rested after a few hours of listening to live music, I left for the next event with some trepidation. The waiter’s words were ringing in my ears: “You are going to wear protection, si?” Walking briskly to the closed-off Via Laietana I could feel the energy rising in the dusky air; the Correfoc de la Mercè was about to begin. Bang, BANG! A gang of silhouetted devils and fire-breathing dragons danced towards us, spouting flames and tossing fireworks. I realised too late why I needed protection, as sparks shot out from the devils’ pitchforks and landed in my hair. Owwww. The smoke, the sparklers and the drums made the fire-run totally addictive and very surreal – somewhat apt in the city of Gaudi. Of course, Gaudi and Barcelona are nearly always mentioned in the same breath. It’s hard to walk the Catalonian cobblestones and not be in awe of his curvy creations. While not officially part of La Mercè, the night experience at Gaudi’s La Pedrera certainly should be. La Padrera is Spanish for ‘the quarry’, which reflects the amount of stone used in building this monumental house that is officially known as Casa Milla. Constructed between 1906-1912, it was Gaudi’s last building before he spent the rest of his life working on La Sagrada Familia (un-fun fact: Gaudi was killed by a tram). The smoke, the sparklers and the drums made the fire-run totally addictive and very surreal. As expected, La Pedrera brings to life Gaudi’s fascination with marrying nature to architecture: an attic shaped as the spine of a whale, pillars based on palm trees, water tanks in the form of snails and balconies that look like seaweed on waves. The non-linear lines and organic shapes continue all the way up to the rooftop terrace where the night illumination begins. In true Gaudi style he didn’t just create chimneys, he created warriors. And it’s on these rooftop warriors that a 20 minute audio-visual show projects the rise and fall of civilisations, the immensity of space and the origins of life itself. Noting that the UNESCO-listed building is now run by Catalunya La Pedrera Foundation, our guide explained that, amazingly, below us still lived three families who have tenancy for life – including an elderly lady and her dog that has its own rooms. Suitably impressed post-show we wandered around the terrace, taking one last glance at La Sagrada Familia’s lit towers as sirens faded off in the distance. It was finally time to return to earth, having enjoyed being at Barcelona’s Mercè. Details Getting there: Fly to Barcelona via Singapore La Mercè festival: Held annually around 24th September, child-friendly and free Other activities: Guadi, paella, shopping, flamenco Visa: No visa is required for New Zealand nationals for stays up to 90 days. Travel tip: Book tickets for all museums and Gaudi buildings well in advance. Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

On the back of its first showing in Athens, Six Tribes opens in Barcelona tomorrow night in the historic Raval area. < Back Six Tribes opens in Barcelona 19 Sept 2019 On the back of its first showing in Athens, Six Tribes opens in Barcelona tomorrow night in the historic Raval area. The exhibition is on show for a week at L'Atelier De Pilar Güell and features tribes from Papua New Guinea to Ecuador to Kenya, with 20 images and accompanying stories in catalan, Spanish and English. < Previous Next >

An image of Domi Logo, one of the elders of the Dani tribe, has been selected for an international Portraits exhibition in Athens, Greece. < Back Domi Logo goes to Athens 9 May 2023 An image of Domi Logo, one of the elders of the Dani tribe, has been selected for an international Portraits exhibition in Athens, Greece. The portrait which was taken outside the village's pilamo or men's hut will be on show at the Blank Wall Gallery from June 9-21. Although thousands of years old, the Dani tribe was unknown to the rest of the world until 1938. Today they still live a simple life and their traditions have endured, including their formidable appearance for celebratory occasions. < Previous Next >

Published tear sheets of Guy Needham images and articles. TEAR SHEETS see exhibitions in situ > see exhibitions in situ >

Following its inaugural showing at Atelier Güell, a limited number of Six Tribes prints will be on show in Barcelona from April 24 to May 15 at the gallery. < Back Six Tribes donates to Barcelona 23 Apr 2021 Following its inaugural showing at Atelier Güell, a limited number of Six Tribes prints will be on show in Barcelona from April 24 to May 15 at the gallery. The show in the historic Raval area will feature images from Papua New Guinea to Ecuador to Kenya, with proceeds to go to supporting the gallery. < Previous Next >

Every day, NGOs, charities and other on-the-ground organisations are working to make the world a better place. From environmental protection to economic development to disaster response, NGOs are at the forefront of assisting others in their time of need and helping them become self-sufficient in their own communities. PHOTOJOURNALISM NGOs Global Every day, NGOs, charities and other on-the-ground organisations are working to make the world a better place. From environmental protection to economic development to disaster response, NGOs are at the forefront of assisting others in their time of need and helping them become self-sufficient in their own communities.

On Tuesday 3rd June at 6pm Guy Needham, will be talking at the opening of his latest exhibition, The Huli of Papua New Guinea. < Back Presentation on the Huli 20 May 2014 On Tuesday 3rd June at 6pm Guy Needham, will be talking at the opening of his latest exhibition, The Huli of Papua New Guinea. Part of the Auckland Festival of Photography, Guy will be sharing his experiences with the Huli tribe - the last traditional tribe in the Southern Highlands of Papua New Guinea. < Previous Next >