Raising funds? Boosting awareness? Or driving change? If you see a photo of mine that will help your cause to conserve or restore our natural spaces, it’s yours. Free of charge.

Simply email me at mitch@mitchgreenphotos.com and I’ll send through the hi-res file. (Please allow a day or two, as I could be off chasing waterfalls.)

And when I’m not taking photos, I’m also a copywriter. So if I can help craft your comms, you know where to find me.

Take care, Mitch.

I can’t remember the first time I felt wholly at home, away from home, out there. 

It may have been gliding through the trees at Lamington National Park on an oversised flying fox. Or collecting kindling with my cousins to build a roaring campfire at Coolendel.  

Either way, I soon felt as content trudging through the bush as I did snuggled up in bed after a long day. 

Now, I love the creature comforts of modernity as much as the next iPhone-wielding, Instagram-posting, latte-drinking, avo-smashing millennial. (And I won’t be opting for an off-the-grid cabin in the bush any time soon.)

Yet something inside of me has been stirring.

Perhaps it was sparked by the 2020 lockdowns where I was prohibited from venturing out by law.

Perhaps it was sparked by the 2019 bushfires when I returned home to smoke-choked skies and haunting sunrises.

Perhaps it was sparked by the 2018 climate strikes where I saw the next generation of activists ignite a groundswell of support. 

Or perhaps it was sparked last week when I read the December edition of Wilderness magazine. Beyond the enchanting cover of an ancient beech tree by Peter Dombrovskis, the opening article was written by environmentalist Bob Brown. 

In ‘The Disappearing Wilderness’, Bob rallies against the destruction of our last remaining wild spaces. He writes: 

[Defending wilderness] is a stand for life against death, for beauty against blandness, for inspiration rather than desolation. The world needs wilderness: just knowing that it is there is a salve to the anxiety of an overcrowded planet.

Words fail to convey why the experience of the wild is especially, incomparably fulfilling—just as words fall short in a description of the universe, or of the fulfilment of love. As life is worth living, so wilderness is worth having—worth defending. The next twenty years will be crucial: and they are our twenty years.

(Though I read those words last week—and they remain particularly pressing today—they’re from the December 1982 volume.)

Whatever the cause may be, this feeling has reached a stage where I am compelled to do more. It’s not a choice or want. But a visceral obligation to contribute to the conservation of our natural spaces. To do something.

An introvert at heart, I’ve never felt comfortable joining rallies or vocal movements. Nor do I have the technical expertise to build the future of clean energy or offer advice on ecological restoration.

But I do have my camera and a knack for crafting stories. It’s time for me to share.

The gift(s) of nature

Giving my photos away like this is far from selfless.

As a landscape photographer and writer, nature is my office. And my playground. And my retreat. (Often all at once.)

It doesn’t cost me a cent to hike up to a scenic lookout or wander around rockpools before dawn. Nor does nature ask for anything in return. It simply provides. (A fact the Traditional Owners knew and revered for eons.) 

And provide it has. Nature has:

• Turned moments into memories: From childhood bushwalks with my family to midnight moonrises with my grandma. Nature is where many of my most cherished memories have been formed. 

• Offered respite and perspective: It’s allowed me to escape the everyday concerns of modern life. For me, a few hours immersed in the bush or ankle-deep in the ocean is a restorative experience equal to any 5-star day spa.

• Sparked my creativity: With shifting seasons, dynamic weather and endless hikes to explore, no two outings are the same. The tapestry of scenes on offer beckons me—and my camera—back, time and again. 

• Tested (and rewarded) my efforts: From a pre-dawn mountain hike to scrambling barefoot up canyon cascades. Each challenge tests my abilities and leaves me feeling exhausted, yet fully alive at the same time.

My time in nature has opened my eyes to the interwoven threads of existence around us. To notice how tree fern fronds rise and fall across the seasons. And to see lorikeets hopping from flowering gum to flowering gum. 

Out there, free from distraction, we can connect with forces and beauty on a scale far beyond our daily dealings and quibbles. And it welcomes all those who seek it.

Nature is the bedrock of my creative expression. And for all I’ve gained, I remain forever grateful for and beholden to it.

How you can give back

I’m no Jane Goodall or Bob Brown. But I have been making conscious efforts to do more. 

If you’re a like-minded photographer, here are some ideas to give back where you can.

• Continue photographing stunning landscapes. Share the beauty of natural scenes and inspire others to appreciate the world around them. As always, be respectful of the land and vegetation you pass through—leave only footprints.

• Donate to a cause close to your values. Without healthy ecosystems, more locations will bear the scars of human influence and change. By donating to a non-profit, you can support movements to preserve ecosystems or fund wildlife habitats.

• Educate others. When a viewer remarks how stunning your image is, consider sharing a few words about the state of the environment where it was taken. Use the image caption as an opportunity to inform and raise awareness.

• Go green when you travel. Adventures to remote locations go hand in hand with the pursuit of landscape photography. To help mitigate the impact of your travel, use public transport where possible and carbon offset your emissions while on the road.

So, after all that, why am I giving my photos away like this? 

Perhaps it’s partly on a whim. Perhaps I’ve drawn inspiration from others who lead the way towards our cleaner, greener future. Perhaps in five decades I want to be able to take my grandchildren on the same hikes that shaped and inspired me.

Or perhaps it’s simply the right thing to do.

So if you’re working to restore nature, I want to help. Email me at mitch@mitchgreenphotos.com and I’ll send through the images you need.

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