Two visits, two weeks apart, to the flysch rocks of the Kaikōura coast. The same formation gave me a jagged sunrise the first time and a very different answer the second.

Most people come to the Ashburton Lakes for one thing: the mirror. Golden tussock, a sweep of mountains, water so still it stops your breath.

I went for that too, and got it. But staying longer than the first shot takes led somewhere quieter, through a passing storm and a rainbow, to a morning spent looking straight down at the water instead of out across it.

I arrived expecting cold — not just physical chill, but a particular visual cold: an Antarctica of the imagination, reduced to white and grey. The Ross Sea had other ideas. What I found instead was gold settling across volcanic peaks, pancake ice that looked impossibly like Monet's water lilies, and light that refused to behave the way Antarctic light was supposed to. For one hour in McMurdo Sound, the continent became the warmest place I have ever been.

The Balleny Islands sit at one of the most extraordinary geographic boundaries on Earth — the Antarctic Circle runs directly through the archipelago. On the way south, they were barely visible through cloud. On the return, two weeks later, they gave me everything: fierce light, sculptural icebergs, and a moment of golden revelation I could not have predicted or planned for.

Wild light. Monolithic ice. And an arch worn through the body of an iceberg that remains one of the most astonishing things I have encountered in a lifetime behind a camera.

In the Subantarctic, the landscape is never still. Wind, water, and shifting light reshape the islands from moment to moment, blurring the boundaries between land, sea, and life.

This article explores a different way of seeing—where the landscape is not a fixed scene, but a living system in motion.

A visual journey through the enchanting landscapes of Iceland with landscape photographer Jos Buurmans, as he recounts his September 2023 expedition following Iceland’s Ring Road to capture distinctly shaped mountains, moss-covered lava, iconic waterfalls, accessible glaciers and iceberg-occupied lagoons.

Cyclone Gabrielle changed parts of Hawke’s Bay in ways I'm still photographing years later. This piece was written during the recovery, and it doesn't try to resolve the discomfort of finding beauty in a landscape still working through disaster.

The first leg of a slow trip around Hawke's Bay in a motorhome, starting at Kairakau Beach, where an unexpected shaft of sunrise light broke through the clouds right beside the Hinemahanga Rocks. Part travel diary, part reminder of what turns up when you give a place more time than a single visit allows.

A photographic illustration of the Pekapeka Wetlands just south of Hastings.