Working as a deckhand in Alaska since more than two decades, Corey spent seven years aboard a Bering Sea crabbing vessel. Today, he is the captain of a wild sockeye salmon fishing operation based out of an abandoned cannery complex called Graveyard Point.

Earlier last year, renowned photographer and commercial fisherman by trade Corey Arnold  went to the icy archipelago of Svalbard, meeting those people lucky enough to live at 77° N. From March 21 – April 27, 2019, he will present his latest body of work, entitled »Hornsund«, from his arctic expedition in Svalbard, halfway between Norway and the North pole. His solo exhibition will take place at Charles A. Hartman Fine Art in Portland. 

Words by Corey Arnold: »In 2013, I landed by ship at the Polish Polar Station, an outpost maintained by Polish scientists located on the remote Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard in a fjord named Hornsund. At 77˚N latitude, the station is a rare human outpost in the far North, on an island with few year-round inhabitants aside from native polar bears, arctic foxes, and an abundance of tiny reindeer. In early September the sky never grows dark, and I spent long days trekking across chossy valleys and crumbling mountains, exploring the many glaciers that rest and rumble within a 24-hour walk.

Some days I’d join a glaciologist on their mission across vast glacial landscapes to check their field instruments and on other days, I would walk alone hauling a heavy backpack of camera equipment with an old WWII rifle strapped to my back for protection from white bears.«

More infos on Corey Arnold’s website.

Read our interview with Corey Arnold.

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“Because, underneath all of this is the real truth we have been avoiding: climate change isn’t an “issue” to add to the list of things to worry about, next to health care and taxes. It is a civilizational wake-up call. A powerful message—spoken in the language of fires, floods, droughts, and extinctions—telling us that we need an entirely new economic model and a new way of sharing this planet. Telling us that we need to evolve.” ― Naomi Klein, This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate.

That’s how we should start an interview with Sergio Penzo. The German creative director’s beginnings lay in Haiti and Dominican Republic. Studying business and design in Chile, he’s then been irresistibly caught up by European culture. Fascinated by the sea, Sergio Penzo wanted to create both a whole universe and a collective dedicated to and united by a common passion. »I felt there was a need for a more fluid platform that harnesses creativity and uses the power of storytelling to put a spotlight on our dependence of our fragile oceans and the immense influence it has on us.«

As an aesthetic and creative connection to our oceans, Panthalassa was born with the intention to reflect on our changing world. Today, our journal discusses contemporary culture and our unique relationship with our oceans, bringing together multiple talents, from photographers, filmmakers, writers and graphic designers. « We want to surprise our readers and bring people who are not necessarily receptive to ocean themes through beautiful aesthetics and unexpected stories. » Meet the ship master behind the creative boat.

Tell us more about your background.

I was born in Germany but spent all my childhood in Haiti and Dominican Republic. My family then moved to Chile where I finished school and studied business and design. I guess I have a nomadic spirit. I can’t keep down so I decided to try my luck in Europe. A few months later, I started working for Jung von Matt, one of the world’s biggest creative ad agencies. Influenced by authors like Naomi Klein, back then I believed in the power of brands to change the world for good or worst. So I started my own brand called TWOTHIRDS, a beautiful experiment which would lay out the blue print for what is today Panthalassa.

As a creative director, you’ve been working for prestigious clients and brands. What have been the lessons learnt along the way?

As a creative and strategist, I learnt to work around brands or companies that needed help. The solution was often a new idea, where nothing was defined. By putting together the brightest minds and talented creators, we’ve been able to shape a thought. I found this whole process fascinating and kept asking myself ‘what if we channelled this powerful energy into a good purpose?’ The essence of my work today hasn’t changed much, but the purpose has entirely shifted.

Who or what ignited your passion for the ocean?

Probably the fact of spending my childhood on an island surrounded by water did. Also, when I was 10, my mother started studying marine biology. We would spend afternoons studying together, I would do math while she’d be preparing her exams. 

Give us an insight of what your routine looks like today.

I get to our studio around 8. It’s only a 5-minute walk so I take the longer way alongside our local beach. I like the fact that the sea always looks different, so that already breaks the routine. There’s nothing certain about the sea, and I try to keep this unpredictability in my creative process. I make a break around 1 to get some things to cook at the local market, If you live in San Sebastian, eating pretty much dictates your life! I leave work around 7 and try to get some surf before the sun goes down.

You recently discovered sailing and free-diving. Tell us more about these two new water hobbies.

I just started free-diving two years ago. It was a huge discovery. Some people embark on a transformational journey through meditation or other practices. For me, it was free-diving. It made me confront many fears and embark on a shift of consciousness that is still taking place today. I only started sailing recently. It’s a total new way of experiencing the sea and, to my own surprise, it can be as exciting.

When and why did you decide to create Panthalassa? 

I was still involved with Twothirds but I felt it had shifted from a purpose driven brand. I felt there was a need for a more fluid platform that harnesses creativity and uses the power of storytelling to put a spotlight on our dependence of our fragile oceans and the immense influence it has on us.

The Panthalassa Society is an important element of the creative process. Can you officially present your team of talents? 

The Panthalassa Society is just a fancy word for our community of incredibly talented creators: They’re like-minded individuals who have a a great sensibility and love for the ocean. We have been able to attract some amazing people who give us their time, energy and talent because they feel that when we connect and collaborate we can contribute to something bigger than ourselves. 

Panthalassa is known for its avant-garde approach towards ocean-related stories. Tell us more about your editorial vision.

We keep this journal as a way to remind us the fascinating relationship we have built as a species with the ocean. We want to surprise our readers and bring people who are not necessarily receptive to ocean themes through beautiful aesthetics and unexpected stories.

Throughout your different projects, you tend to depict a certain philosophy of sustainability. Why is it so important to raise awareness of sustainable fishing and cooking today?

During the past few years, we’ve been working close with NGOs like Oceana and the Marine Steward Council supporting their efforts to end overfishing. We will need fish to feed the 9 billion people on this planet, and the only way is to secure healthy oceans and bring back the abundance our seas once had. I believe we can play a critical role by telling stories of sustainability and helping shift the narrative of the seafood industry.

What’s next for Panthalassa?

We are about to open a collaboration space in San Sebastian, a dream I had since starting Panthalassa. But I don’t want to give too much away. You will find out more about it soon.

Short Film: Technogym / C41 Studio

Creative director: Luca Attilio Caizzi

Photos : C41 Magazine

Read the full story on C41 Magazine.

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Currently based in Chiang Mai, Thailand, award-winning documentary photographer Taylor Weidman’s work focus on the effects of modernization and human rights issues.« Riding in -20°C weather with Mongolia’s reindeer herders, diving with Thailand’s sea gypsies, and photographing Kazakh ice fishermen were all unforgettable experiences. » After spending two months in Central Asia between Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, Weidman produced a long-term series of pictures for National Geographic about the Aral Sea, considered the world’s fourth-largest freshwater lake decades ago. However, in the 1950s, the lake became the victim of the Soviet Union’s agricultural policies. Water was intentionally diverted causing a massive ecological disaster.

Today, thanks to large-scale restoration efforts, the Aral sea have seen a resurgence of fish. Fish catch in the North Aral Sea has grown six-fold since 2006, bringing commerce back to the inland town of Aralsk, Kazakhstan. « The Korkoral Dam surpassed all expectations, leading to an 11 foot increase in water levels in just seven months. Today, fishermen say 15 different species of fish have returned to the sea. » We wanted to learn more about the situation and the fishermen community photographer Weidman met during his journey.

Currently based in Chiang Mai, Thailand, what do your surrounding look like?

Chiang Mai is a beautiful, small city in northern Thailand. The city is known as the ‘jewel of the north’ and has a vibrant arts scene and cafe culture. It’s very relaxed and is surrounded by hills, jungles, and waterfalls, which make for fun hikes or motorbike excursions on weekends and holidays.

Working for important medias like The Wall Street Journal, BBC and CNN, what have been your most vivid memory as a photojournalist?

As a photojournalist, I have opportunities to travel and see things that I would never be able to in any other line of work. Riding in -20°C weather with Mongolia’s reindeer herders, diving with Thailand’s sea gypsies, and photographing Kazakh ice fishermen were all unforgettable experiences.

You recently produced a long-term report about the Aral Sea for National Geographic. What did bring you to Kazakhstan?

I spent 2 months in Central Asia between Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. I’ve been to Mongolia nearly a dozen times, where the country’s Soviet past and the rise of nearby China make for a fascinating landscape to work in. I’d always wanted to go to Kazakhstan and other countries in Central Asia since they face a similar situation and coverage from these areas is scarce.

In 1957, the Aral Sea produced more than 48,000 tons of fish. However, in the 1950s, water was intentionally diverted causing a rise in salinity and the death of freshwater fish species. What has been the impact on the fishing industry and fishermen community?

The Aral Sea, straddling Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, was once the fourth largest freshwater lake in the world. But by the 1990s it was a shrunken ruin, thanks to Soviet policies that diverted water for agricultural purposes from the lake’s two river sources. When fish stocks plummeted due to increased salinity, the surrounding fishing villages found themselves hungry and jobless; many residents left in search of better opportunities. For example, in Tastubek, a fishing village on the Aral Sea, so many of the fishermen left that there were only 9 households remaining.

Today, the lake is said to be a tenth of its original size. What does the lake look like today?

You can see from satellite images that the Aral Sea on the Uzbek side is a sliver of its former self. The lake dries more and more each year and the remaining water is too salty for fish to survive. I had the chance to visit the former fishing port of Moynaq in Uzbekistan. Here you can see lines of boats rusting on the former sea bed, although the shores of what remains of the Aral Sea are now around 150km away. When the fish disappeared, everyone engaged in the fishing industry had to search for new jobs. Today, the economy is mostly reliant on seasonal remittance work in Russia.

Despite the disaster, in 2005 a dam was constructed to help Kazakhstan’s North Aral Sea’s fate. Tell us more about this revolutionary project.

Financed by the World Bank, an eight-mile dam was constructed in 2005 on the Kazakh side of the Aral Sea, just south of the Syr Darya River. The Korkoral Dam surpassed all expectations, leading to an 11 foot increase in water levels in just seven months. Today, fishermen say 15 different species of fish have returned to the sea.

Did this project bring optimism and hope to the community?

Absolutely. Many of the former fishermen were able to go back to their jobs and are again earning a good income. Local fishing communities were shrinking, but now are again growing. Tastubek, the fishing village I mentioned that shrunk down to just 9 households, now has 34.

You met a local fisherman named Omirserik Ibragimov. Tell us more about this man, his daily life and fishing habits today…

Omirserik was a fun, brash 25-year-old who lived in a fishing village called Tastubek. He fished each day with his father, Kiderbai. During the winter, the two men would ride out on the ice in Russian jeeps where they would drill holes in the ice and hang nets below the ice, then come back a few days later to collect the fish.

To what extent is the sea the source of life for the community?

Fishing communities like Tastubek continued to exist after the fish died off because they also kept camels. However, it was difficult to make ends meet and many residents left the village. Now that the fish are back, the communities are again growing since fishing provides a solid income for families.

This recent prosperity surprisingly generated negative consequences like illegal fishing. Tell us more about that…

This was one of the most surprising revelations we found. I had assumed that local residents, after experiencing firsthand the vulnerability of the fishing ecosystem, would be motivated to safeguard the fish stocks. Unfortunately, instead we learned that fishermen were trying ignoring long-term harm by chasing short-term profits and it was common for today’s fishermen to use illegal fishing methods – employing nets that are cheap and easily torn/lost and fishing during the breeding season.

As a photojournalist, you’re a witness of the ecological situation. What would be your message for the future generations?

My message would be for this generation to think about the environmental legacy they are leaving for future generations. Over and over, I see unsustainable, yet extremely common practices decimating fish stocks, clear cutting rainforest, polluting the air and water, and abusing the environment in myriad other ways. Environmental regulation, where it exists, is often undercut by corruption. We need to ask ourselves what kind of a world we want our children to grow up in and work together to build that future.

What are your next projects?

Throughout Southeast and Central Asia, China is an increasingly powerful actor, and I think my next project will concentrate on China’s ambitious One Belt One Road plan as it builds infrastructure and exerts influence throughout the region.

 Discover more of Taylor Weidman’s work on his website.

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As a kid, Slovenia-born photographer Ciril Jazbec, dreamt of becoming a photographer for National Geographic. Today, aged 32, his dream came true. A few years ago, he headed up to Greenland and witnessed a way of life disappearing.

Since a young age, growing up in a countryside village in Slovenia, Jazbec has been deeply struck by climate change. « I grew up surrounded by nature, by its authenticity and brutality. I assumed nature’s graphic style – strong contrasts, clean lines, multilevelness. I feel overwhelmed by nature. By the climate changes it has been showing. By our primal feelings, directing us into the closest intimacy possible. »

In his series of pictures entitled « On thin ice », Ciril Jazbec pays tribute to the people whose daily routines are affected by rising temperatures and tides. In this remote village of 250 people in northern Greenland, higher temperatures mean shorter seal hunting seasons. « My first experience of the Arctic and the first chapter of a long-term project concerned with the human face of climate change. In the tiny island town of Uummannaq on Greenland’s west coast, vanishing sea ice is rapidly altering traditional hunting and community life. »

He met Unnartoq Lovstrom, 70, one of the last remaining people sticking to tradition and living as subsistence hunters, described as “the Clint Eastwood of Greenland » by the community. « I don’t speak Unnartoq’s language, so hand gestures and honesty become an even more important factor of communication than usual. For a European, the conditions in Greenland are extreme; low temperatures require one to be exceptionally strong-willed, and the will to live is what has always driven the traditional hunters to survive. However, the daily life of these hunters is changing due to climate change, unpredictable weather, higher temperatures, and the resulting thin ice. »

Throughout a photojournalistic and documentary dimension, Jazbec’s body of work manages to reveal the emotion and real-time situation of their changing landscape. « The sea used to be frozen for eight months a year, but nowadays it only freezes for a few months, threatening the traditional methods of seal hunting. The story also touches upon globalization worming its way into every nook and cranny of the world, as well as upon global interconnectedness driving youth away from tradition and self-sufficiency. » Left in April, the ice was thin in Greenland and hunters began falling through the ice. « In Greenland, young people are moving to the cities, self-sufficient hunters are disappearing and a 1000-year tradition of hunting and survival in the most extreme of conditions is being forgotten. »

On a wooden sled pulled by six to 10 dogs, communicating through body language, line fishing through a hole made on ice, photographer Ciril Jazbec created a powerful relationship with the community and Unnartoq .“It’s difficult as a photographer to get close enough to someone who lets you live with them,” he said to the New York Times. « It’s hard to gain trust; that’s why it’s special to me.”

Discover more of Ciril Jazbec’s work on his website.

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Preparing and cooking fish everyday is a privilege and something I don’t take for granted. We all need to make good decisions when purchasing, storing and cooking our fish.

In September 2016, Chef Josh Niland and his wife Julie opened Saint Peter, a small fish eatery in Paddington, Sydney, where meals are driven by his childhood connection to the wonders of cooking. As a 8-year-old kid, Josh suffered from a serious illness that made him regularly missed school. Entertainment and excitement were often found in cooking shows and recipe books. Today, Saint Peter is an early dream come true, realized through creativity, dedication and passion. We had a chat with chef Josh Niland to learn more about his inspirations, his sustainable approach and the importance of offering seafood sourced from Australian waters.

What did come first : your passion for cooking or your fascination for seafood? 

A passion for cooking definitely came before my infatuation with fish. What fascinated me about fish though, from quite early on, was how difficult it is to wok with & the level of care that is involved from sourcing/ storing/ butchering & cooking. It was a challenge and that intrigued me.

Over the years, you’ve been working for chefs like Steve Hodges at Fish Face. Who ignited your passion for seafood?

Stephen was a unique individual amongst many that really got me excited about Australian seafood. He was so deeply passionate about his work that, after the time we worked together, I realized I had picked up a truly unique and original skill set that is now the real platform I stand on as a chef.

A couple of years ago, you opened Saint Peter, a seafood restaurant in Sydney’s Paddington, with your wife Julie, one of Sydney’s most promising young pastry chefs. Tell us a bit about your new adventure and your restaurant’s mission.

Julie and I opened Saint Peter, an Australian Fish Eatery, with a desire to reimagine fish preparations, cooking techniques and methods of storage with the information and technology now available in 2018. The restaurant represents 10 years of Julie & I being together. Every meal, every experience we have ever had, has been rolled up and then articulated into what we love most about a restaurant. Our sustainable approach sees the majority of our fish line caught by unique fishermen all around Australia. Our kitchen utilises the whole fish. We now have a recipe for every part of the fish (except the gall bladder). All our seafood is sourced from Australian waters. We are really proud of Saint Peter and what we have accomplished so far.

Tell us more about the products you use and the fish you offer… Why is it important to have a sustainable approach on a daily level as a restaurant? 

Sustainability is a broad word with multiple meanings. The sourcing of sustainable fish species is so critical at Saint Peter as there are so many fish being too heavily fished for their popularity or convenience in the market place. When we purchase fish from either the market or direct from fishermen, we never choose what exact fish we take. I ask for the best and most sustainable which are ideally line caught species, and in turn usually means we receive the very best. When you work with your suppliers like this then you will always get great diversity in species but also good prices as you are taking what was caught today or yesterday. The other part to the word sustainable comes in the form of minimising food waste. Fish is a very expensive commodity, and to run a 34 seat restaurant efficiently and adhere to strict food costs, there must be a plan for the whole fish not just the glamorous 40%!

We appreciate this philosophy of sustainability. How do you make sure no part of the fish goes to waste?

It has taken trial and error to make the organs of a fish desirable and delicious to a western palate. Ten years ago, when I cooked myself a fish liver on toast with a little parsley, I thought it was brilliant and wondered why isn’t this on everyone’s menu. That dish still remains a favorite among with the fish eye chips, utilising the roe in a raw or cured state, smoked heart, cured spleen, fish stomach sausages, caramelised fish heads, glazed fish throat, salt & vinegar scales, fish blood pudding, fish fat salted caramels, etc. It’s all about thinking about the many recipes and methods that can be applied to an animal and applying them to a fish. Basically, if it doesn’t taste delicious, it does not make the menu.  

You technique of dry-ageing fish is very interesting. Tell us a bit more about the concept.

Dry ageing of fish is something that I did out of necessity at Saint Peter. Prior to opening, I knew I wanted to buy the best fish I could and knew that the fish would need to be stored in the correct environment. Our fish fridge sits between 0 and 1 degree at the restaurant. It’s not as if this cabinet is magical and any fish that goes in will come out 2 weeks later with an incredible flavor profile. So much of the ageing process of fish depends on the raw product on day one and how you handle the fish. If all those variables are carefully looked after and the conditions are consistent throughout that maturation stage then, because of moisture loss, you will find nuances in the flavor profile of the fish that may not have been present on days 1 to 5. We intend to explore further ideas around dry ageing when we open our fish butchery this April.

Give us an insight of what your menu looks like. 

Our menu is very simple: it consists of up to 8 oysters at the top of the menu, then 3-4 small dishes using the like of sea urchin, fish offal and other shellfish, then a further 2 or 3 entrees. We then have 5 main courses with one of the dishes always being a fish and chips. Desserts are simple: lemon tart, custard tart & a selection of a few Australian cheeses that I love. The menu changes every service and is totally dependent on what I can get my hands on. It is likely certain dishes gain popularity and then, due to weather or season, they change. This is always the tricky part letting down customers that have come specifically for a certain dish. But over the past 18 months, our customers know how to use Saint Peter and appreciate the everyday broad offering of fish. 

You have a very nice way to show your dishes on Instagram. Would you say social medias are crucial in promoting sustainability?

Most of the staff at Saint Peter and some of my friends disagree with me when I say I put down 50% of the success of Saint Peter to Instagram. In the beginning, I just wanted people to see what I had the privilege of seeing everyday, and it caught on fast. I hope my photos inspire chefs, home cooks and anyone really to value and appreciate excellent fish and be proud of what we have available to us in Australia.

How do you envision the future of food, fish and seafood?

I believe there will definitely be a broader understanding of fish and how to utilise the whole fish in a commercial setting. I do hope the curriculum in culinary colleges are adjusted to break the 60/40 logic of loss & yield for a round fish and start explaining to young chefs that the possibilities are endless. I do though believe there will be challenging times ahead with declining stocks in some species around the world. One can only hope that the farmed fish industries and unique individuals line catching and other innovative methods continue to excel and provide Australians and the world with beautiful fish. Preparing and cooking fish everyday is a privilege and something I don’t take for granted. We all need to make good decisions when purchasing, storing and cooking our fish. Hopefully, Saint Peter can aid in some way towards this future. In the long term, I hope to make a difference in a culinary sense to the way we work with fish from fishermen to table.

Discover more of Saint Peter Restaurant on their website.

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When I discovered Anita Conti a few years ago, her work instantly blew my mind. I remembered reading everything I could regarding her career as a photographer, explorer and as the first french female oceanographer. In the late 1920s, Anita Conti used to spend months on fishing boats, documenting fishermen’s life along the coast of Saharan Africa, Senegal, Guinea, and off the coast of Newfoundland (Canada).

Earlier this year, when I came across « Le Naufrage », a series of pictures created by Quebec-based photographer Charles-Frédérick Ouellet, I felt the same love at first sight. Both dark, poetic and dramatic, his body of work turned out to be a cry of love to the St. Lawrence River, this «  dominant element of our landscape » that connects the Great Lakes with the Atlantic Ocean. Drawing a parallel between past and present, Charles-Frédérick Ouellet tends to introduce a personal vision into a documentary approach. « Le Naufrage is a photographic investigative journey that has taken me to the hinterland where documentary photography and historical documentation converge. » 

Thus, I wanted to know more about this powerful timeless visual essay turned into a book, published by Les Éditions du Renard, that « has become a space of contemplation that opens dialogue on the representation of place and memory, the natural world, and our living past. »

Hi Charles, tell us a bit about this body of work entitled «Le Naufrage »  started in 2010…

Le Naufrage is a photographic investigative journey that has taken me to the hinterland where documentary photography and historical documentation converge. I have always been fascinated by the St. Lawrence River, which I see as something much more resonant than merely a great seaway dominating our landscape. Le Naufrage is but one part of a larger project in which I explore the iconic river as a unifying force that binds together the traditions that gave birth to and have always shaped Canada society. My work takes inspiration from myriad sources—exploration narratives, sailor’s legends, and the work of the navigators and oceanographers who travel the St. Lawrence—and the book has become a space of contemplation that opens dialogue on the representation of place and memory, the natural world, and our living past.

How would you describe your pictures from Le Naufrage?

First, this title was chosen for its poetic echo. I feel the word itself represents, in perfect balance, the tension between the sublime force of nature and the history of men at sea.

My book presents a personal vision of the St. Lawrence steeped in the river’s cultural heritage and folklore. Ranging from gritty realism to oniric impressionism, the images gathered all bear the impress of the awesome force of the natural world. This body of photographs is supplemented by others taken on land, along the Gaspé and North Shore coastlines, depicting the sites of shipwrecks that bear the invisible scars of the past. This experience didn’t change my perception, but it made me understand the vastitude, the strength of the Saint-Lawrence river as well as it’s vulnerability. Although fishermen are men of few words, they teach you a great deal about humility. 

Fishermen seem to be the heart of your work today. Over the years, what did catch your eyes as a photographer working on boats?

For years, my work has explored the figure of the fisherman as a symbol of our collective origins. Working on fishing boats, exposed to the weather, these men labour in silence. Over time I began to see their world, through their eyes; an elemental environment of coastline, horizon, sea, wind, and sky. As if of their own volition, my photographs taken on the water naturally slip away from the discursive subject to fuse into more abstract seascapes. The Saint-Lawrence river covers a vast area and different realities. Although I photograph fishermen from different provinces as far as Nova-Scotia, I decided to concentrate my project around the estuary of the Saint-Lawrence river. This project aimed to bring together past and present by creating a dialogue between landscape that bear the traces of shipwreck and seascape of daily life at sea. 

In which way is your work a mix between a personal vision and an investigation?

It’s definitely more a personal vision than an investigation. Nonetheless, I tend to start my project as an investigation process. Since this project has taken quite a few years to realize, a lot of things changed since the beginning. At first, the project was meant to be a photoreportage but I knew there was more to show than men working at sea. Most of the things that inspired this project were abstract such as the history of navigation and the weather condition. It become an investigation process when you trying to find a way to represent things that belong to the Hors-Champs. 

As a photographer from Quebec, what’s so special about this river?

I grew up near the Saguenay River in Quebec, Canada. I always felt that coastlines were the perfect place to experience the landscape. I guess I’m interested in waterways because they are engraved in our genes. Not so long ago, the coureurs des bois, who were mostly French-Canadian and mixed blood, were sailing down the river trading European items for furs and exploring the continent. This river has played a major role in the colonization. It’s the main water way to the hinterland of the North American continent. Through the years, most of the Quebec population settled along the coast line of the Saint-Lawrence river. We shall remember, this river is a dominant element of our landscape. Quebec began as, and has remained, a seafaring society, dependent on the St. Lawrence to transport provisions, communicate, and travel. Long before European colonization took root, fishermen from Scandinavia, Basque Country, Spain, Portugal, and Saint-Malo plied their trade along our coast, harvesting the bountiful resources of the St. Lawrence Estuary. 

Tell us more about the 108-pages book you published.

This photobook is also an exploration of the narrative form itself. The physical book is designed to resemble a reference book. Its aesthetic harkens back to classical book design and adopts certain conventions of an earlier time when books were repositories of knowledge and credibility. Key features are marbled end papers, a linear structure, and page layout that recalls early scientific works. This clean design augments the force inherent in the way images unfold in sequential order. 

The content is divided into two parts. Part One, a prologue of sorts, is a series of landscapes depicting the sites of shipwrecks. It serves as a temporal marker, immersing the reader in the past from the moment they open the book. Part Two is the heart of the work: a sequence of forty images of waves, clouds, and fishermen that recalls 19^th Century marine paintings. The images in Part Two are interspersed with a short text by playwright Fabien Cloutier. 

What’s next for you this year?

At the moment, I keep working on identity symbols that inspired North American mythology. For the past few years, I have been following in the footsteps of Louis Jolliet. As the first explorer born in North America, first non-native to map the Mississippi, cartographer, royal hydrographer and coureur des bois, Jolliet is one of the greatest forgotten figures of our history. Other than that, in a couple of months, I will be over in the Basque Country and on the North-shore of Quebec and Labrador taking photographs for a project about the Basque fishermen, who settled in North America before colonization. The project is a collaborative residency between Quebec and France, where I will work with French photographer Christophe Goussard.

Discover more about Charles Frédérick-Ouellet’s work on his website.

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Diving on reefs no one may have dived on before is incredible. In saying that, human impact can be seen in the most remote of places. Sometimes, it’s the most remote locations that are the most vulnerable!

Todd Thimios describes himself as an Australian underwater photographer with a few strange qualifications. Involved in expeditions with photography today, Todd teaches and guides diving and underwater photography for small private groups. He is also a certified submersible pilot and a fisherman, a couple of extra statuses that makes him stranger than we thought. 

Over the years, he’s been working along some of the world’s most renowned underwater cinematographers, taken under the wing by a few mentors. Today, Todd spends his year following the migrations of marine mammals to be at the right place at the right time. « I really love encounters with big marine life. Holding my ground watching, waiting and trying to get close with trust. The encounters are so powerful. I’m the happiest when in the water I find salt water fixes everything. » We spoke to him about great white sharks and whales, his vision about commercial fishing, freediving as a form of meditation, as well as the human impact on natural environments.

When have you been introduced to photography?  

I think it was my grandfather that gave me my first camera. It was an old SLR that was super confusing to use initially but forced me to learn the foundations of photography pretty quick. I always shot with film in my teenage years and actually studied darkroom processing for a year or so once out of school. I guess it was always about trying to capture memories back then. I’m still finding undeveloped film rolls of mine when I visit family back in Australia. Developing 35mm film rolls 20 years later can certainly bring back some nostalgia. 

Where does this passion for underwater photography come from? 

Before everything, I’ve always been an avid fisherman and diver. This was installed in me by my father and uncle who lived and breathed fishing all their life growing up on the Great Barrier Reef. Some of my earliest memories are learning to snorkel on the reef. I think underwater photography was always going to be a natural merge of hobbies. 

Then, you became dive instructor. What did your life look like at the time?

It looked good (laughs), real good! I lived on a small island between Australia and New Zealand for around 6 or 7 years. The population was small, only about 500 people on average but the island was, and still is, incredibly beautiful and I was spending hours and hours underwater everyday.

Never far from water, right? 

Yeah! I’ve been lucky enough to have traveled a lot over the years, and still get really excited by the idea of going to new locations. I think after a while marine life really started to orientate my traveling. Knowing a location was popular for a certain natural event. Maybe migrations of marine mammals frequent an exact location each year or certain species of sharks arrive to one spot as temperatures cool. Now, it’s all about researching where and why it’s going to happen and trying to be there for when it does.

For the last decade, you’ve been sailing and diving around the world, through the Maldives, Costa Rica and Patagonia. How was it like to dive some of the world’s best and most remote locations? 

I’m always doing my best on trips to get remote. I find peace so much quicker in isolated places. Diving on reefs you think no one may have dived on before is incredible. In saying that, the human impact can be seen in the most remote of places. Sometimes it’s the most remote locations that are the most vulnerable! Nowadays massive commercial fishing boats can spend months at sea without returning to port. They catch – using illegal, unsustainable techniques – process, pack and freeze all while at sea, meaning they can continue this for months before having to go back to shore. Imagine locations so remote in the middle of the Pacific that, even though they may be protected by laws against commercial fishing, they’re just too far from anything to be policed.

You have some records under your belt like a hundred of dives to depth as deep as 380 meters. Is performance a part of your passion for diving? 

These depths are done in a submersible. I gained certification a few years back as submersible pilot. These are small Submarines that can take normally 2 or 3 passengers to depths up to 1000 meters. It’s another world! 

The unique silence, this colorful life… The underwater world is very special. How would you describe the life out there?

Freediving, with or without a camera, certainly is a form of meditation. I tend to think about nothing but only what I’m doing in that moment whilst diving. I can’t find that clarity anywhere else. Then there’s the relationship and awareness with marine life. I really love encounters with big marine life. Holding my ground watching, waiting and trying to get close with trust. The encounters can be so powerful. I’m happiest when in the water I find salt water fixes everything. 

Over the years, you’ve been in the forefront of the rich diversity of marine life. What would be your message to the future generations?

Probably to just try to gain an interest and fascination in your subject. I find the more I learn about something or a place I’m about to see, the more excited and fascinated I become. Learning about the biology of sharks has helped me understand their behavior, learning migration patterns of whales, for example, has left me in awe of the journey that they must have completed and the state they must be in. Also, if a camera is anything – it’s a great tool to get you outside and traveling – it may put you in places or situations you never would have dreamt of.

Today, you dedicate some of your projects to the conservation of our oceans. Tell us more about these projects.

I’ve been based in Spain for a while now and I’ve been helping contribute to a few organizations that are aiming to bring awareness about single use plastic. It’s interesting to see that some countries are fully aware of the issues of single use plastic and others – sometimes strong modern and advanced economies – just have no idea. Another thing that I touched on earlier is commercial fishing. I’m finding more and more the reality of the situation is just not seen or known by the public.

What’s next for you Todd? 

I have a few trips this year lined up hopefully. One that I am really excited about is a return to the Arctic in the north of Norway, a place that I absolutely love. I’m showing my photography at a gallery for the first time later in the year, which is new and exciting. Also, I’ve started a new degree in Marine Science and Management. So, overall, things are pretty exciting.

Discover more of Todd Thimios’ work on his website.

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Every day local men and women from Pacasmayo, Peru spread along the shore of the town and wade into the ocean to collect algae, called cochayuyo. It’s been thousands of years people use seaweed in their daily diet in Peru. 

Production and consumption of aquatic plants in the world has been increasing in recent years. The algae are one of the most nutritious foods on the planet and are also used in medicine. Cochayuyo seaweed contains various minerals such as phosphor, calcium, magnesium just to name a few and vitamins. One of the main components of cochayuyo is the protein. It easy to assimilate and contains high levels of essential amino acids, which occur in plant and animal tissues and are very important for human body.  “It’s quite an easy job and I earn enough to support my family. I spend a few hours a day working in the ocean and then I can stay with my kids for the rest of the day,” says Claudio Rojas Pita, who is doing this job together with his brother Luis Rojas Pita for over 15 years. 

Luis uses stone belt to keep him underwater. He prefers using stones instead of weight belt because it’s cheaper and he doesn’t have to worry about loosing it. “If something goes wrong and I need to go to surface, I just cut the belt and leave stones underwater. If I bought a proper weight belt I wouldn’t want to leave it on the bottom and loose money,” he explains.  Meanwhile Marilu Gamba Cardenas and her friends don’t dive at all. They don’t have masks nor snorkels, so they collect seaweed gropingly. It results in lower amounts of cochayuyo, but women work hard to get as much as possible. They cover themselves from the sun with a few layers of clothes and scarfs on the top of old crannied wetsuits. Cochayuyo is species endemic in the south of Pacific Ocean, along the coast of Peru and Chile. It’s the most abundant kind of red algae in Peru. Since pre-Inca times, it’s been widely used in the daily diet, mostly consumed fresh, in the costal and Andean areas.

After three hours of work Claudio, his brother Luis and friend Barny Portilla sit on the beach, relax in the sun and snack on the fresh cochayuyo straight from their loaded bags. “It’s going to be a good lunch today,” Claudio smiles taking a closer look at the octopus he caught while picking the seaweed. “We’ll use it for ceviche,” he adds. Peru is the birthplace of worldwide known ceviche, a dish of marinated raw fish or/and seafood. Fresh cochoyuyuo is often served with ceviche and it comes deep-fried with chicheron de pescado another popular dish of deep-fried fish and/or seafood. It is also used in soups, especially in the traditional fish soup called chilcano, stews, and salad or eaten soaked in vinegar.

Different kinds of seaweed used in food and medicine was also an ancient practice in China, Japan and some African countries. But according to The Cambridge World History of Food, the earliest archeological evidence (dated to circa 2500 B.C.) for the consumption of algae found thus far was discovered along the coast of Peru. Much evidence exists to indicate a marine algae presence here in ancient times. Local people extract seaweed all year around, but things get harder when winter comes. “In the winter, we freeze after a couple of hours in the cold water and there is significantly less cochayuyo because of the lower temperature,” says Marilu. “But I don’t complain, I like to spend time in the water,” she adds smiling.

After working in the ocean Marilu goes to the market, where she sells it to locals. She doesn’t eat a lot of cochayuyo herself. “I prefer to sell it and support my family with the money,” Marilu who has three children, explains. Meanwhile Luis, Claudio and Barny sell their bags of algae to collectors, who later transport it to the capital Lima and other towns. One kilogram of mocacho is sold for 3-4 soles (~1 dollar). In 2-3 hours men and women can collect 5-20 kilograms.

Words & Photos: Berta Tilmantaite

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A commercial fisherman by trade, Corey Arnold has worked seasonally in Alaska since 1995, including seven years of crabbing in the Bering Sea aboard the fishing vessel Rollo. While from March 21 – April 27, 2019, renowned photographer Corey Arnold will present his latest body of work from his arctic expedition in Svalbard, through a solo exhibition entitled Hornsund at Charles A. Hartman Fine Art in Portland, we called Corey on the phone to discuss the extreme weather conditions at sea, the camaraderie between fishermen and his work entitled Aleutian Dreams, a »behind the scenes that normal people don’t ever experience«, able to document a world few of us will ever experience in Dutch Harbor in Alaska. Capturing the crab boats and trawlers, scavenging noble eagles, curious foxes, mountains of nets and crashing seas, Arnold’s work documents the visceral experience of life at sea.

Through a subtle series of pictures, Corey Arnold unveils his natural fascination for the ocean. »In recent trips, I joined fisherman at sea aboard crabbers and trawlers, and on land documenting the surreal landscape of the fishing culture that once captured my imagination as a young greenhorn.  Aleutian Dreams is a collection of new images from my journey through this wild and unforgiving frontier of Western Alaska,« he said. »Those who come here often possess a desire to escape the safety of home to work in an environment filled with risk and visual grandeur that is far from ordinary.«  Meeting.

How long have you been commercial fishing? What drew you to this work?

I started commercial fishing in 1995, working on a salmon boat in Bristol Bay, Alaska.  After skipping just a couple of years, I’ve worked on fishing boats for about 19 years of my life. What first drew me? My dad was addicted to sport fishing and loved the ocean. I grew up in Southern California fishing with my dad out of our small boat almost every weekend.  It was his escape from a busy work week as an avocado farmer and tropical plant grower. As small kid, there are pictures of me holding fish that I caught while wearing diapers. Fishing became sort of an identity to me and stories I brought home from my trips of strange encounters with sea creatures and adventure were a curiosity to my friends who didn’t fish. I started to understand that I had this unique and special experience in life that few get the opportunity to see. 

So fishing came first? When and why did you decide to combine fishing and photography?

I graduated from photography school at the Academy of Art, San Francisco in 1999. The whole time I was going to school, I was spending my summers in Alaska, commercial fishing for salmon. At that point, I never really thought of seriously photographing my life up there. I was making more conceptual artsy kind of photography work. I wasn’t influenced at first influenced by the documentary aesthetic but after assisting commercial photographers for a couple of years, I realized I didn’t really want to be stuck making commercial work that did not inspire me. I started crabbing because I could make good money doing work outside was physically strenuous but ultimately fulfilling. I thought the chances of making a living as a photographer would be very slim, and so running a fishing boat would another option that appealed to me equally. Then I started photographing my life as I fished and that’s when my Fish-Work series began to get attention on the internet and I began to get a lot of work as a photographer. 

You’re trying to photograph your world while actually working as a fisherman. Is that the most challenging part of it?

It is not possible to have my camera in my hand while working on the boat.  You often can’t capture the most dramatic moments while fishing because you are too busy dealing with a storm or maybe a problem with the fishing gear, therefore you miss out on a lot of incredible moments. In my new series, Aleutian Dreams, I returned to the Aleutian islands this time to photograph instead of fish in order to capture the life that I couldn’t previously. There is a collision of nature and industry up there that I find captivating and in this new work, I focused on elements of the place and the life at sea that inspired me as a young greenhorn. As a new fisherman going up there what is most striking is the scale of nature and the oversized tools needed to harvest and survive under such harsh conditions. I love the Aleutians because it feels like you’re in on a strange behind the scenes secret, and that ‘normal’ people don’t ever experience such things. 

Bald eagles, foxes, crazy seagulls, a dark sea, a literally frozen boat, huge waves looking like huge walls of water… it’s a wild place out there. As a fisherman, what draws you back to the wilderness year after year?

When I started crabbing I thought I would only do it for a couple of years and then move on. But once you start making friends and connections in that world, it  begins to shape your identity and I ended up working on the same boat for seven years. We became close friends and there’s this camaraderie, like we’re all in this together, battling for survival through sleepless nights. It is an exciting adrenaline rush, but none of us would do it if we weren’t making good money as well. No one would do this work for free, or just for fun. I liken it to those who run marathons or climb mountains. The struggle can be complete hell and very dangerous, but why are people willing to do it? They do it for the feeling of invincibility, the sense of achievement. It’s kind of the same thing. To me, I love that fishing is authentic and that we are doing something very tangible… feeding people. There also many people working as fishermen because it’s the only thing they know.  You don’t need an education to be a fisherman, all you have to do is outwork everyone to get ahead.

You recently said in an interview, I quote: »What lured me back wasn’t only the money, but the curious and often masochistic realization of the American dream happening in the Aleutian Islands.« Tell us more about that…

What I’m trying to say is like… for example »Make America Great Again«. Whose dream is that? What does the American Dream look like? The fishing industry in the Aleutian Islands, as dangerous it is, as messy as it is, you can go out there and you can find this American Dream. Its a dream that might look like a nightmare to some, but a certain breed of human thrives off its gritty reality. You can make good money and have this experience. The eagle, our national symbol, is not always the stoic icon we see on postage stamps and nature documentaries, it can also be a scavenger and opportunist feasting off human garbage in town. Their population is thriving because of the food fishermen have brought to the island, but is that “great”?  Maybe for the eagle or maybe not, its all about perception.  I’m very interested in these kind of themes.

You have some sick shots of eagles. How did you manage to be so close to this Bald Eagle?

Due to the amount of fishing boats coming in, the fish leftovers, nets on decks and all the garbage, the eagle population has been out of control. There’s 500 to 800 bald eagles living near the town of Dutch Harbor, Alaska. They’re feasting off human waste in garbage and pulling fish off the decks of boats everywhere. They’re so used to being close to humans that once I walked up to and eagle in a a garbage can and it was completely buried in garbage. It was very vulnerable but really didn’t care, it just screamed at me to go away.  They have become quite accustomed to humans since they are protected by law from harm. 

We mentioned the huge waves in the Bering Sea and the extreme weather conditions. Working on the Bering Sea is extremely demanding. Can you describe your most vivid memory of fishing out there?

Earlier this year aboard the f/v Arctic Lady, another crab boat travelling about 50km from disappeared without warning and 6 men vanished with no trace. A cold storm had struck with freezing spray that formed ice on our bow and crab pots on deck.  When you have freezing spray, the boat gets heavier and heavier as the ice begins to grow exponentially on itself. The boat was carrying a full load of heavy crab pots and taking on a lot of ice, combined with strong tides and wind and so it likely rolled over without warning, but no one will ever know for sure.  

I’ve been fishing in the ocean my whole life, but the first day that I worked on the Bering Sea, I saw waves twice as big as I’ve ever seen in my life. So it’s all very alarming and it doesn’t seem as if you could actually fish in this weather. It’s crazy but when you look around, you see the other guys and the captain just calmly going about their work.  Then you start thinking maybe we’re okay! After a while, you get used to it too. And the work becomes very monotonous, very repetitive, day after day. It’s a mental challenge to deal with the repetitiveness and sleeplessness.

Today, you live in an abandoned cannery in Bristol Bay, Alaska, during the salmon fishing season in June and July. What are the things you love about Alaska?

To me it’s a complete escape from the world of technology and email. I just want to get away from it. My photography is pretty demanding, working on images on a computer and emailing. Then when I go to my fish camp in Alaska, it’s two months of total disconnect. I really need that… it’s really important to have that time to reset. I want more of that feeling in my life and by the end of the season, I find it very hard to leave. It’s important to have that disconnect to re-evaluate what’s important in life. Out there, it’s all about relationships with all the other fishermen that live in the camp. We’re constantly hanging out, chatting, telling stories. No one’s looking at their mobile phone, texting. That’s mainly what I love.  Anything can happen, the weather changes so rapidly, there are so many unknowns, nothing is normal about life up there.

You’ve been documenting the visceral experience of life at sea for more than 15 years now. How would you describe your relationship with the the sea today? 

It’s a love/hate relationship. If you finally get a good nights sleep, then you wake up excited about the next day. Sleeplessness creates this psychosis where people can easily get grumpy. It’s crazy! There are lots of ups and downs emotionally in fishing. Sometimes you catch nothing for days, then, all of of a sudden, fish come en masse and adrenaline is pumping and it’s exciting. I love the highs and lows, and the uncertainty of it all, it makes for an interesting life.

What’s next on the agenda?

I’m doing these two exhibitions at Richard Heller Gallery in Los Angeles, and at Charles A. Hartman Fine Art in Portland. The last few weeks have been crazy because I shot a lot of the new work in February and only had a few weeks to print, mount and frame both shows. That was kind of nuts but its working out!  The work in Los Angeles is up on the wall and the second opening is April 6, 2017 in Portland. In June I leave once again to fish salmon in Alaska. Next year, I’m going to do a big project on fishing in Norway. I have already photographed quite a bit in Lofoten and Finnmark, Norway but I think I have grown a lot more over the years as a photographer so I’d like to revisit and work on a much larger project in Norway. 

Discover more about Corey Arnold’s work on his website.

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Born and raised in Slovakia, photographer Natalia Horinkova, 31, left her home when she was 18 to fullfil her strong desire to discover the world. Growing up as a rhythmic gymnast, Horinkova used to travel across Europe for competitions since a very young age. Fascinated by people and their behaviour, Horinkova has been travelling to learn from the land she visits, and from the food she tries for the first time. »But most importantly from the people I meet alongside my journey,« she says. »What I like the most is being able to tell a story. People and relationships have always played a big part in my life.«

Capturing kids surfing on a wooden plank in Ghana and wild giraffes in Kenya, diving into the translucent waters of Madagascar, travelling across the rural areas of Tanzania, documenting Ugand, India, Indonesia, Australia, and Sri Lanka, travel and lifestyle photographer Horinkova has been covering some of the wildest places on earth, staying never too far from the sea. »If you can’t find me by the sea, I’m walking towards it«, she writes. 

In last November, she was sailing around the islands of North Madagascar on a 1960 Dutch ship. »I consider myself a very lucky girl,« she says. »I thought you must go on an adventure to find out where you belong. But I found out that home is wherever your heart lies, and sometimes ​it is in more than just one place.« Currently living in Sydney, Australia, the artist dreams of settling down »somehwere by the sea, far from the busy cities.« Used to swim and fish with local fishermen, dive under turquoise waters, catch an octupus and cook seafood, we chose to share with you a glimpse of Natalia Horinkova’s sweet daily life all over the world.

Discover more of Natalia Horinkova on her website.

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