Wildlife, Nature, and Culture: Pie Aerts' Photographic Journey on 120 Film

While searching for his creative voice as an artist, Amsterdam-based photographer Pie Aerts emerged from mainly shooting landscapes and wildlife to rediscover the very root of his passion: human connection. With his photography, he aims to reflect the deeper philosophy of humanity’s relationship with nature, with each other, and with themselves.

In this interview, Pie talks about working with local communities in different parts of the world, the advocacies behind his projects, and what draws him to using the medium format along this journey.

Hi Pie, welcome to Lomography Magazine! Please tell us a little bit about yourself.

My name is Pie Aerts and I'm a Dutch photographer. I'm 39 years old and I'm based in Amsterdam.

I do consider myself a photographer, but I often struggle to define exactly what kind of photographer I am. I shoot wildlife, but I wouldn’t call myself a wildlife photographer. I work on long-form documentary projects, yet I don’t quite identify as a documentary photographer. I take on editorial and photojournalistic assignments from time to time, but I wouldn’t label myself a photojournalist either.

I suppose it’s a mix of many things. At the heart of it all, the common thread running through my work, whether personal or commissioned, is the melancholic and ever-shifting relationship between people and place. I constantly challenge myself to prioritize hope over despair, and co-existence over conflict. My work seeks to explore those evolving ways we relate to the natural world, to ourselves, and to one another.

How long have you been shooting on film? Share with us your film photography journey.

I'm a self-taught photographer, I never went to film school, photo academy, or completed an MFA. I often find myself admiring those who did, because they come from a rich tradition of visual storytelling. But I’ve always felt that my way of compensating for that lack of formal education was simply to work harder than anyone else.

Along that path of discovering the craft, I realized that the way I connect with the people and places I photograph demanded a different kind of approach. One that felt less fleeting, less candid, slower, more intentional. That’s what led me to film. I didn’t start with a 35mm camera; instead, I dove straight into medium format.

Today, for most of my long-form work, I shoot exclusively from a fixed tripod. That choice allows me to slow down, be present, and prioritize the encounter itself over the final image.

You are the co-founder of Prints for Wildlife. What is this project and how did you come up with it?

That’s right. I’m one of the two founders of ‘Prints for Wildlife’, a nonprofit fundraising initiative we launched in 2020, during the early days of the COVID pandemic. The idea was simple but powerful: unite photographers from around the world by asking them to donate some of their favorite work to help raise funds for nature conservation.

I deeply believe that, in the current world we live in, giving back should be a core priority in the business model of any photographer working at the crossroads of nature, wildlife, and humanity.

Over the course of three annual campaigns, we raised 2.1 million dollars for conservation efforts. 100% of those proceeds was donated directly to African Parks Network, an organization active in 23 parks across 12 countries on the African continent, working to protect both nature and the communities living in and around those landscapes.

With that total, Prints for Wildlife became the most successful photographic fundraiser in conservation history, a milestone made possible through the generosity of 275 contributing photographers and the support of thousands of people who chose to decorate their homes with purpose-driven art.

Following that success, we’ve taken a short pause to reimagine our strategy and identity in a changing world. We're currently working on a refreshed vision for the next chapter of Prints for Wildlife.

What is your work on 'Because People Matter' about? What inspired you to start this account?

I began this work in 2018 as a personal response to some big questions I was asking myself about rediscovering my artistic voice. After spending several years focused primarily on traditional landscape and wildlife photography, I felt an undeniable pull back to what first drew me to the medium: human connection.

We live in a world that’s shifting faster than ever, marked by environmental, political, and social uncertainty. ‘Because People Matter’ emerged as a kind of quest: a search for real connection and raw human emotion in a time when the world often feels guarded, fearful, and obsessed with curated perfection. In contrast, I believe there’s nothing more powerful or moving than people who are willing to show their true selves, the simple, imperfect, mysterious essence of what it means to be human.

At a certain point, I realized I was missing the human presence in my landscape and wildlife work. The deeper I looked, the clearer it became that my strongest wildlife images were often rooted in even stronger human encounters. That realization was a turning point, one that led me to shift my focus toward human-centered storytelling.

It also helped me understand something fundamental: when human well-being is prioritized in the conservation and protection of nature, the outcomes tend to be not only more meaningful, but also more sustainable and long-lasting. This people-first approach to conservation is deeply compelling to me.

Ultimately, ‘Because People Matter’ is about vulnerability, interconnectedness, and hope. It’s about seeing one another fully, and daring to believe in a more compassionate, inclusive future.

Tell us the story behind your photographic expeditions. What places have you visited so far?

It all began as an experiment in 2021, with my first guest expedition to Kenya, a place I know intimately. That familiarity forms one of the core principles behind all my expeditions: I only take guests to places I’ve personally explored countless times, places I know inside and out.

Group sizes are intentionally kept small, typically between six and ten participants, and the journeys span anywhere from eight to twelve days. We venture into remote regions, working closely with trusted local partners. Each expedition includes a giving-back element, whether by supporting local communities or contributing to the protection of the national parks we visit. It’s a way to nurture the relationships I’ve built on the ground and share those meaningful experiences with others.

My current expedition portfolio includes photographic safaris in Kenya, Tanzania, and Zambia; an annual expedition to Patagonia in Chile, blending wildlife, nature, and culture; a journey to Ladakh in the Indian Himalayas; and tiger safaris in Central India. I also offer expeditions to the Arctic and Antarctic, and I’m currently developing a new adventure: a private steamship journey along the River Nile in Egypt.

Your most recent expedition was in India for the Kumbh Mela festival in Prayagraj. How was the experience?

It was surreal. I brought two groups of ten guests each to a festival that only takes place once every six years, one of the most special expeditions I’ve ever hosted. Due to strict weight limitations on this trip, I packed light: just my Mamiya RZ, a Polaroid back, and a Super 8 film camera.

I’ve never had my Mamiya RZ fail on a job, ever. I usually bring a backup, but not this time. So, of course, on the very first day of the festival, the Mamiya broke down beyond repair. The nearest service center was in Kolkata, a 15-hour train ride away, one way. It was the morning of day one, and I was sitting in my tent, without a camera.

I posted a story on Instagram, and to my amazement, the entire Indian film photography community stood up. It was humbling, thousands of people reached out, offering help. Eventually, a camera was shipped to me and arrived just in time… only to die in my hands as well.

There I was, with two broken Mamiyas and nothing else, except the Polaroid back, and 20 sheets of film. I had brought it as an experiment, never intending to rely on it. But suddenly, I had no choice.

That constraint completely changed how I worked. I shifted from a spontaneous, point-and-shoot mindset to something far more intentional. Each night, I sat in my tent sketching out the moments I hoped to capture, knowing I only had 20 exposures. I began simply observing. Waiting. Trusting that the scenes I had imagined might unfold.

And in those still moments, I rediscovered what drew me to photography in the first place: the quiet power of observation. I had the most meaningful conversations while waiting, without the pressure to constantly chase light or composition.

The photographs that came out of that experience are some of the most meaningful I’ve made in years.

When do you choose to shoot on film versus digital? What does each medium represent for you?

As much as I love shooting film, I equally love working with digital cameras. I'm blending both worlds in my work, and I will forever do so. Most of the work you see in my 'Because People Matter' account is shot on film, whereas the majority of the work you see on my other Instagram account is shot on digital cameras, which is mostly landscape and wildlife work.

The main difference for me between shooting digital and shooting film lies in the mindset each medium cultivates. Digital photography fosters a relationship with success, built on a foundation of control and predictability. Film, on the other hand, cultivates a relationship with failure. When you pick up a film camera, you teach yourself to dance with mistakes. There's something profoundly powerful in that choice, because embracing the imperfections of the craft creates a steep and rewarding creative learning curve. It's about letting go of certainty, learning to accept the unknown, and allowing that space to shape your growth. Therefore, my decision to shoot film or digital is rarely based on aesthetics, instead it's rooted in methodology.

You seem to be a fan of the medium format. What do you love about shooting on 120?

For me, working with medium format film is a way to always prioritize the encounter over the photograph at any possible time, which kind of became the ethos in all the work I do. This means, the encounter always comes first, whether it’s a person, a landscape, an animal, or a still life. The photograph is secondary.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s a fleeting one-minute encounter on the street or a two-hour portrait session with a friend, I always push myself to prioritize the actual engagement with who’s in front of my lens. That’s something medium format photography allows for in a truly beautiful way. It’s also why I work exclusively with a tripod. It has nothing to do with technical specifications or production standards. It’s entirely about creating space for presence. This slower, more deliberate approach fosters intimacy, and because of that pace, people in front of the lens tend to relax, open up, and ultimately offer something more candid and authentic.

In addition to that, I’ve become a bit addicted to the waist-level viewfinder. It feels like a world of its own, a small, quiet universe where image-making and storytelling begin. There’s something almost meditative about staring down into it, as if stepping into my own creative dimension. And then, of course, there’s the way these cameras render space, color, and depth of field, unmatched by any other medium, if you ask me.

Last but not least, I believe the 120 medium truly teaches you to embrace failure and imperfection. Film is inherently unpredictable, and medium format is no exception. There are light leaks, scratches, dust particles, and plenty of moments where you have no idea what you're doing. There are rare film stocks and expired ones, each with its own quirks. Unlike the polished clarity of digital, these imperfections bring a sense of rawness and authenticity, not just to the final image, but to the entire process. Honestly, some of my best work has come from moments of complete uncertainty. And if you’re willing to lean into that, the work you create carries a depth and honesty that’s hard to replicate.

What advice would you give to those photographers who also dream to travel the world, experience different cultures, and document their journey?

To me, the absolute elemental core of photography is communication. Communication between you and your subjects, between you and your work, between the teams you’re a part of, or between you and the audience that supports what you do.

Nowadays, it’s too easy to create for anyone other than yourself. There’s so much peer pressure, so many expectations. There’s an overwhelming amount of content, photography, and storytelling everywhere you look. But there’s so much power in intuitively focusing on what you feel is important. Just you. Only then, I believe, you can convince others to believe in that same vision, that same idea.

If you struggle to communicate or write about your ideas and values, that’s exactly where you should focus your energy — on cultivating clarity. The better you become at putting into words why you pick up a camera, the more powerfully your work will resonate with others.

I think, in today’s world of content overkill, there’s far too little emphasis on doing it for the right reasons. But in the end, the only person who truly needs to believe in the work you create is yourself. And if that’s your starting point, you can elevate very, very quickly to higher levels.

Where are you off to next and what future projects are you looking forward to?

For the past six years, I’ve been consistently working on my next book about a small, remote region in Chilean Patagonia. It’s a poetic long-term multidisciplinary documentary project on a small community of men living in one of the most isolated areas of Patagonia.

Over the course of those years, slowly a body of work has taken shape, one that I now feel is ready to exist in book form. I recently signed a publishing deal with GOST Books in London, and we’re now working on the first sequence of the book. It’s both beautiful and a little terrifying to watch it take shape and prepare to send it out into the world. If all goes to plan, we’ll go to print by the end of this year, with a launch scheduled for April 2026. It’s one of my main long-form projects at the moment, and one I’m deeply invested in. I’ve also been working on another project for the past five years, in Ladakh, in the Indian Himalayas. Once this Patagonia book is out, I’ll be turning more of my attention to that.

And then there’s a third long-term project I’ve been working on for nearly a decade in various places in Africa — one that I hope to turn into a book within the next 3 years. It’s a very different project than the others, exclusively shot in monochrome, with an entirely different approach. More conceptual, abstract, dynamic. It’s essentially an investigation into my personal relationship with those African landscapes and the animals that depend on them. I hope it will one-day see the light of day.

If you want to tag along as he travels to more places and discovers more cultures, you can find more information about Pie’s photographic expeditions on his Instagram and website.

written by francinegaebriele on 2025-06-14 #culture #people #places #culture #nature #travel #environment Share Article