Snakes

From the earliest traces of human culture, snakes have occupied a singular place in our imagination. Etched onto rocks, woven into myth, and embedded in medical and religious symbols, they persist as archetypal figures in the human mind. Evolutionary biology offers one explanation: for millions of years, primates coexisted with serpents as both threat and teacher, shaping neural pathways attuned to vigilance as well as awe. What emerges is a deep-rooted mixture of fear, respect, and fascination - an inherited attentiveness rather than simple dread.

I share this fascination and respect for snakes. When I photograph them, it is with an awareness of their presence and, in the case of venomous species, the risks they naturally carry. I avoid handling or disturbing them and do not attempt to move them from their habitats. Whenever possible, I photograph them in situ, allowing the encounter to remain brief and unobtrusive - guided by patience, distance, and an appreciation for the animal as it exists in its own environment.

Many of the images are taken in rainforest environments, which often means a lot of searching, using your eyes to the maximum, or taking the help of very knowledgeable local guides or experts. Every time I find a snake, my heart skips faster.

Most of the species are inherently difficult to photograph. Shy by nature, they will often retreat quickly if not approached with care, while more agile species in constant motion present additional challenges. I often work at close distances and now rarely use telephoto lenses. Instead, I increasingly favor vintage lenses with an extremely narrow depth of sharpness, allowing parts of the image to fall gently out of focus and lending a fairytale, almost mystical aura to the photographs. In the description of each species, it is noted when a vintage lens has been used.