INTERVIEW Tessa Apa
We all have a relationship with conflict. Some of us avoid, some of us minimise, and some of us accommodate. But others, like Adam Ferguson, are drawn to conflict with eyes wide open and camera poised.
Born, raised and educated in Australia, Adam admits to being a restless and dissatisfied teenager with a social conscience, “When I discovered socially concerned photography, I knew I could channel my dissatisfaction with the world and tell stories about critical social issues and conflict.”
After graduation, Adam had a dream to work as a photographer for the Sydney Morning Herald. When this goal didn’t eventuate as he planned, he left his homeland in search of more.
As a student, the photo books were a source of inspiration, “When I saw the monographs by documentary photographers that had covered conflict, I knew in my heart that I wanted to be a war photographer.”
He spent years interning, working a day job and building contacts from Europe to India, taking any and every small job until he eventually got a one-day assignment for Time Magazine. He soon found his place in the world of photojournalism, particularly as a witness to conflict. This required commitment and deep conviction.
What followed was a decade covering conflict in war zones around the world as a photographer for the New York Times, Time Magazine and National Geographic.
After 25 years, Adam is back home in Sydney. His internal compass is still leading him to make socially concerned images. Still leading him towards tension.
His new book, Big Sky, is a decade in the making. A story of the Australian outback, its land and its people, proving that during drought, children still know how to have fun. Proving that cultural tension co-exists with pop music. And proving that in the rapidly advancing world of AI images, being a witness matters.
Why do people say yes to a photographer wanting to capture a moment of their life? Why do they say yes to an interloping stranger? They say yes because being witnessed matters, especially during times of hardship. A photograph is proof that you have been seen. That someone outside of your struggle is with you, even if just for a moment.
After so long away from Australia Adam felt, “A fundamental urge to tell a story about my own country.” The trauma and fatigue of covering intense conflict and working in foreign contexts and cultures led him back home. Big Sky was a vehicle of connection with Adam’s own country and a space where he could work on his own terms and timeframes. The images in his book share the complex reality of life in the outback. Tension is ever-present and Adam’s images speak to both the truth of pain and a fragile hope. It can be hard to comprehend hope during drought and hardship until you see a photograph that captures it.
Big Sky is not a book about climate change; it is a story about Australia. But Adam soon noticed how the people of the land were engaging with extreme weather conditions. These weather patterns became a significant part of the work through circumstance, not intention.
This is a spontaneous image that Adam captured while driving through northern Queensland. The rain had finally come after a seven-year drought. The rivers were swollen in the town of Cunnamulla As Adam drove over a bridge, he saw these local boys playing. This picture of celebration after a devasting drought is a hopeful reminder that every drought will eventually end.
Adam captured this moment because it felt like, “A metaphor for the human condition in the Bush. Its humanity suspended in a dead tree and a flooded river. “
Cousin sisters Shauna and Bridget Perdjert, of the Kardu Thithay Diminin Clan and Murrinhpatha language group, in Kardu Yek Diminin Country, Air Force Hill, Wadeye, Northern Territory, 2023. Bridget stares at the camera, confident and strong. She sits with her cousin sister, looking over one of the most remote parts of the country. She is a young woman who is initiated and has never lost her sacred connection to the land. Adam chose this photo, “Because she looks strong.”
Taylor Swift is appreciated the world over and the Australian outback is no exception. The acknowledgement of a remote community and its relationship with popular culture invites us to consider connection and what we have in common, not what sets us apart.
This image was an unstaged spontaneous capture. Working in film means Adam must work thoughtfully – only three photos were taken to capture this moment.
This is a story about a family struggling in extreme climatic circumstances. Another Australian farmer that is forced to buy (not grow) feed for his animals, forced to destock his farm and find work elsewhere to keep his family afloat. Adam says, “The goal was to make a portrait of this family on their land, but soon the kids started messing around and climbing and everyone else just stood there looking at the kids.”
An image of perspective and connection, to each other and the land. Children climbing trees is always fun and the higher they get the more perspective they have. The adults observe their children enjoying the land and in that moment, they must know their efforts to hold on and to survive is worth it. The future is looking to them. And they are looking at the future.
This image of a family surviving drought is infused with hope and potential.
This once thriving mining town is now more of a tourist stop. Abandoned mines and homes scatter the landscape.
This spontaneous image is equal parts hope and desolation. The metaphor of a rainbow coming out of an iconic Australian panel van in the middle of an abandoned opal mine sums up the extremes of life in the Australian outback. Change is inevitable. So is decline and struggle. But there is always hope.
This is a staged portrait, but everything in the frame has integrity to the essence of their story. They stand how they wish, on their own land, in their own clothes.
A small family farm does not have the resources to survive a seven-year drought. Adam spent a week in this area and two days on this farm. The effects of the drought were evident. The family were hoping not to have to sell their land. They are hoping to survive. They were happy to share their story. They were happy for Adam to witness their struggle.
The image above is part of “The Bombs They Carried”, taken in 2017 for the New York Times. This series has nine images of young women who were all kidnapped as children and subjected to a life of horror and indoctrination – groomed to be suicide bombers. This is Aisha. She is 14. She had bombs strapped to her body and was deployed as a weapon of war by Boko Haram in northern Nigeria. She chose to defy her captors and once deployed into a public space, surrendered herself and was placed in a safe house. Adam could not show their faces, and real names were not used. Adam admits that a photographer often never knows whether the act of witnessing and sharing an image makes a difference. He rarely returns to the same place or cultural and social energy. However, these images garnered a lot of attention, and an education fund was set up for these brave young women.
https://adamfergusonstudio.com/
Featured in It’s Interval STELLAR – view full story and more from this issue!