Finding Light in the Dark

The power of contrast with wildlife photographer and filmmaker Donal Boyd

Photos by Donal Boyd

There’s something to be said about people who immerse themselves in nature. The ones who patiently wait to capture a moment most of us wouldn’t be able to witness otherwise. And it’s those moments that help us better understand, care for, and take action on behalf of the natural world. Enter wildlife photographer and filmmaker Donal Boyd, who has dedicated his life to sharing these unseen moments with the masses. Through his work, he helps showcase nature in its purest form — the good and the bad, and with that helps to share the stories of those out there who don’t have a voice: the wildlife, the wilderness, and the people working to make a positive difference in the background. We were fortunate enough to have Donal be one of the judges of The 2026 Flow Photo Contest, and were able to catch up with him in the back of a car in the middle of Brazil to hear more about the mission behind his photography and how even in the dark, he’s able to find the light. 

David Attenborough once said, “No one will protect what they don't care about.” How does your photography provide a window into parts of the natural world for people who may not be able to experience it firsthand? Why is storytelling critical for conservation and education?

I think that statement is completely true. And I’d add that people don’t care about what they don’t know. There’s so much happening that people never see or really understand. And unless it’s communicated in a way that actually reaches them, it just stays invisible. 

But photography has this ability to interrupt someone and bring them to these invisible worlds. And it isn't always about the most impressive images in terms of rare animals, or special lighting, or even technique, it's about content, context, and authenticity of emotion that was involved in the creation of the image. That immediate impact of a single image can be huge. Because when we think about protecting nature, wildlife, and the environment, without that visual force, nothing else really happens.

Then the deeper part is storytelling. One image might make someone pause, but a series of images, or combining photography with writing or film, allows you to build something that people can actually understand and connect with. And I think that’s where it shifts. From just seeing something, to actually feeling something, to understanding it. And once someone understands something on that level, that’s when they start to care. And caring is what leads to protecting.

A moment when photographing wildlife altered your perspective on life?

One of the most profound moments for me was in Borneo, photographing orangutans. We were there with an NGO, documenting their work to protect and restore the forest, fighting illegal fires, planting trees, trying to rebuild what had been lost. We had been traveling deep into the jungle by boat for hours each day, working along this river system. 

Then suddenly everything shifted. There was movement, noise, birds flying overhead, trees rustling, everything kind of came alive at once. Then this huge male orangutan came crashing through the trees and stopped right in front of us on the edge of the riverbank. Just towering over us a few meters away. He just stood there, completely still, just watching us.

There was something in the way he looked at us that felt intentional. I was stunned. He was standing there like he was trying to communicate something, even though he couldn’t. And in that moment, it hit me in a way it never had before. People say all the time, “We have to be a voice for those who can’t speak.” And it can sound like a cliché, but at that moment, it didn’t feel like that at all. It felt completely real. Like the origin of the cliché was there right in front of me.

I then remember feeling this heaviness, like a weight dropping into me. And at the same time, almost the opposite, like being lifted, like standing taller in that moment, mirroring how he was standing there in front of us. Because this animal was so similar to us, and yet completely unable to express anything in the way we can. And it made the responsibility of being there feel very real. It changed how I understand the cliché and how I communicate about those who can’t speak.

After traveling across the globe and witnessing so many extreme moments in nature, what does being in awe mean to you?

For me, awe isn’t just wonder. It’s tied to responsibility. I’m constantly aware of how privileged I am to be in these places. To witness these moments with wildlife, nature, and the people who are out here living this same strange life, protecting and restoring what’s left. To experience parts of the world that most people will never see firsthand leaves me constantly confronted by awe. And it’s not always positive. Sometimes it’s beauty, something almost impossible to believe is real. And other times it’s the opposite. Forests turned into farmland. Animals lost to poaching. Moments that honestly pull me into a darker place. But then there’s the other side of it. The people I get to witness with an energy so enormous that it pulls me out of the darkness. The ones actually doing something — replanting forests, protecting wildlife, choosing a different path. And that brings a different kind of awe. One that feels more grounded, more hopeful. So awe, for me, is that tension. Being humbled by what I’m witnessing, both the beauty and the loss, and at the same time feeling a renewed sense of responsibility to do something with it.

How does passion drive your work after over 16 years in the wildlife photography and film space? What keeps you telling the stories of the natural world?

I think it’s very easy right now to feel overwhelmed by everything that’s going wrong. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of negativity, and at times it feels like it’s getting louder. But what keeps me going is what I see when I’m actually out there. The people who are doing the work. Not talking about it, but actually doing it. Protecting, restoring, dedicating their lives to something bigger. And I see that over and over again.

I’ve been working on a series called On the Edge of Darkness, and it comes from that exact idea. That even when things feel completely dark, there is still light that comes through. Sometimes it’s small. Sometimes it’s just a sliver. But it’s there. And I see that light in very real ways. In people planting trees in burned forests. In teams tracking and protecting wildlife. In communities choosing to coexist instead of exploit. So for me, it’s that contrast. Seeing how bad things can be, but also seeing the people pushing back against that. And I think that’s what drives me.

How does photography have the power to unite people?

I think photography unites people through depth. When you really care about something, and you spend a lot of time with it, you start to see it differently. You notice things other people wouldn’t. And that allows you to communicate it in a way that feels real.

For me, that’s nature and wildlife. I spend days, sometimes weeks, in remote places. Even right now, I’m crammed in the back of a car with camera gear, on a six- hour drive into the middle of nowhere in Brazil to try to photograph a black jaguar. Most people are never going to go to places like that. But through photography, they can still experience something from it. And I think the key part is going all in. That depth is what allows you to translate it in a meaningful way and to unite people.

There’s also the immediacy of photography — it can stop someone instantly, even if they weren’t looking for it. It pulls them in for a second, and that second is enough to create a connection. And when enough people form that connection, those people start to connect with each other, uniting big groups of people who now start to understand the same thing from what they collectively saw. It’s like one big network and mesh. 

Any advice you might have for someone looking to pick up a camera for the first time?

Focus on what’s already around you and what you know best. And more importantly, what you love the most. Those are the things you’re naturally going to spend the most time with. And that’s how you develop an eye. Once you develop an eye for one thing, you can apply that to everything else. Composition, curiosity, and learning how to see — that’s what matters. 

Then the other side of it is editing. The camera is just capturing light. The image isn’t really finished there, in my view. Being able to shape light, color, and detail afterward to reflect what you actually felt in that moment is a huge part of it. Being open to incorporating your personal perspective and focus in the way you edit is key.