Salgado Is Love

Photography in service of others

In October 2022, I was nearing the end of a trip to Chennai. To close it off, my assistant and I visited a welfare school to host a kind of picture day for the children. It was—what I often call—photography in service of others. Using my camera as a passport, I was able to meet and connect with people I’d never encountered before, all while making them feel like the most important person in the world, if only for a brief moment. That day remains one of my most fondest memories of Chennai.

Photo Credit: Renato Amoroso

On May 23, 2025, I learned that Sebastião Salgado had passed away at the age of 81. He was a photographer, a photojournalist, an environmentalist, and above all, a champion for the unseen. For over five decades, he built a body of work that helped shape so many of today’s greatest storytellers. His ability to use black and white—light and shadow—to reveal the human experience within the scale of the natural world was simply unmatched. He is—without hyperbole—the greatest photographer to walk the earth. And that’s not just because of his work behind the camera, but because of who he was outside of it.

I first saw Salgado’s images long before I knew his name. But in 2020, when I finally grasped the direction I wanted for my life, he became the first person I studied deeply, and the one I return to most often. I never had the chance to meet him. Foolishly, I thought I’d wait until I had something worthy to show him. That our paths would cross, and I’d offer a quiet thank you, along with a small piece of my own work. Foolish, indeed.

Today, I want to share with you a few words from Salgado. Lessons I’ve held onto for years and returned to often. Alongside them, I’ll share a few thoughts of my own. I hope you find something in them that speaks to you.

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“The picture is not made by the photographer, the picture is more good or less good in function of the relationship that you have with the people you photograph.”

What I admired most about Salgado was how deeply he valued trust. His photography wasn’t about quick moments or stolen glances. It was about connection. He was the opposite of photography for vibes. He placed the story and the people in it above everything else. He believed that the strength of an image came from the strength of the relationship behind it, and that belief was evident in every frame he shared with the world.

“I try with my pictures to raise a question, to provoke a debate, so that we can discuss problems together and come up with solutions.”

Salgado made you look. His images were so powerful, so undeniably human, that you couldn’t turn away. Whether he was photographing a gold mine or a desert, there was always a fierce sense of presence. A demand to acknowledge what you saw. He captured truths that were impossible to ignore. That, to me, is everything.

“Photography is a universal language; it doesn’t need translation.”

How beautiful is it when your photography speaks for you? When it becomes the voice that carries you into unfamiliar worlds, unlocking stories you never thought you’d access? That’s what great photography can do. And it only happens when you approach the work with humility, intention, and discipline. Salgado did just that.

“Those who plant trees cannot expect to see them grow tall in their own lifetimes. Those who save babies are making the same ultimate bet on the distant future.”

There was always hope in Salgado’s work. Even after witnessing so much suffering, he believed his efforts could help build something better. He understood that true change often outlives the change-maker. The awards and accolades were never the goal. They were a byproduct. His work was always in service of a bigger future. Photography, for him, was a force for good.

“Photography allowed me to see anything that I wished to see on this planet.”

Imagine being so committed to your craft that it takes you across the world. For many of us, that is the dream. Salgado lived it. He spent six years on his first major project, then used its success to propel himself into the next one. When the oil fields of Kuwait were burning, he knew he had to be there, and photography made that possible. That is conviction. That is vision, discipline, and belief, fully realized.

“I tell a little bit of my life to them, and they tell a little of theirs to me. The picture itself is just the tip of the iceberg.”

For Salgado, the camera was just the entry point. The real work happened in the exchange. In the mutual sharing of stories. He believed that photography wasn’t something you just took. It was something you participated in. There’s a growing tendency now to snap a photo and move on. Salgado stood firmly against that. He stayed. He listened. He made it matter. I love that. I live that. And I look forward to it every chance I get.

“I am a former economist. I never went to photography school to learn photography.”

Salgado reminds us that discipline, authenticity, and hard work are more powerful than any formal training. He didn’t start his true photography journey until he was 29. That alone speaks volumes to me (I was 30 when I started mine). He proved that it’s never too late to begin, as long as you commit. If you stay true to what matters, and put in the work, the stories will find you. And if you’re lucky, one of them might just change the world.

“We are animals, born from the land with the other species. Since we’ve been living in cities, we’ve become more and more stupid, not smarter.”

Salgado was not afraid of the moral grey. He acknowledged the contradictions in our lives and challenged us to confront them. His work reminded us to respect the land, the people, and the interconnectedness of both. Even in the face of despair, he carried hope. He pressed forward not because the odds were good, but because the cause was worth it.

“If you take a picture of a human that does not make him noble, there is no reason to take this picture.”

This. The idea that photography should be grounded in dignity and respect. Not spectacle. Not ego. Not exploitation. There is such power in how Salgado chose to portray his subjects. With care, with honour, with humanity. And frankly, we need more of that now.

“Photography is a way of bearing witness to the world, of making a mark on history.”

Some might scoff at the idea that photography can change the world. But that is the bar I’ve set for my own work. And though it might seem idealistic or naïve, Salgado stands as proof that it’s possible. Once you’ve seen it done, you know it can be done again. You just have to keep showing up. Especially for those who have no one else showing up for them.

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One More Thing…

When I first heard the news of Salgado’s passing, I was on set. I shared the news to my Instagram Stories and got back to work, compartmentalizing the loss so I could make it through the day and feel everything later. When I finally checked back, I was felt this wave of warmth from this outpouring from photographers around the world, sharing their grief and gratitude. It felt like a rare moment of unity, the kind that reminds you that you’re part of something bigger. Salgado built that.

The inspiration for this piece came from looking back at all the wisdom I’d gathered from Sebastião Salgado over the years. As I flipped through my collection photo books and digital archive of notes, I found a story that brought me to tears.

There was a moment in Salgado’s life where he was at a Palestinian refugee camp in Lebanon, a place already charged with tension and the weight of geopolitics. Salgado found himself in what was described as a “very rancorous” atmosphere but managed to dispel that tension by recognizing and embracing this child with Down’s syndrome. He held that child to let him know that he knew what he was saying. That he understood him. What the child, and perhaps many others in the camp didn’t know was that Salgado had a son with Down’s syndrome as well.

In that moment, Sebastião Salgado was not a photographer, or an artist, or a storyteller. He was a human being. He was a father. He was unconditional love.

Yesterday, I read these notes, looked up the original story and wept. Not because Salgado was gone, but because he was such a supreme force for good. Even in the most volatile of environments, he saw people fully. Without judgment. With love.

Salgado is love.

GB