Three Kings: The Story Behind the Photograph

Some photographs begin long before the shutter is pressed.

Three Kings was made in July 2017 in Nxai Pan National Park, Botswana, on the edge of the Makgadikgadi salt pans. It is a landscape of distance and silence — flat, exposed, and in the dry season, stripped back to its essentials. Dust, pale grass, heat, and the long pull of water.

At that time of year, once the rainwater has disappeared, the pumped waterholes in the park become some of the only dependable sources of water for miles. The animals know this. Elephants know it especially well.

A few years before making this image, I had watched large elephant bulls crossing the open country towards the waterholes at Nxai Pan. They would appear from the vastness of the pan, moving with that slow, deliberate confidence that only old bulls seem to carry. The land gave them a natural path through the dust and dry grass, and in the late afternoon, if everything lined up, the light would catch them in a way that felt almost sculptural.

That stayed with me.

I returned to Nxai Pan with that image in mind and spent close to a week watching the bulls come in during the late light. Wildlife photography is often described as patience, but it is more than that. It is memory. It is returning to a place because you have seen a possibility there before. It is knowing that a certain landscape, a certain animal, and a certain kind of light might come together — but only if you are there when it happens.

On the afternoon I made Three Kings, I was alone. That gave me the space to work quietly and position myself safely very low beneath the vehicle. The low angle made all the difference. It gave the lead bull stature and presence, lifting him against the open landscape and allowing the three elephants to fill the frame with the weight they carried in real life.

What I love most about this photograph is the movement.

These bulls were thirsty. They were walking with purpose. Once an elephant bull picks up the scent of water, something changes in his body. The head swings a little more. The ears shift. The trunk loosens. Each step has a rhythm to it. There is a swagger there — not aggression, not urgency in the frantic sense, but certainty.

That character is fleeting. Once he has reached the water, drunk, fed, and settled, it disappears.

This photograph is about the moment before relief.

The pull of water.
The weight of the dry season.
Three old bulls moving with quiet authority across an ancient African landscape.

Why I Chose Sepia

For me, Three Kings was always going to work best as a sepia toned photograph.

Colour would have told part of the story, sepia stripped the image back to what mattered most: shape, texture, movement, and presence. It draws attention to the form of the elephants, the warmth of the light, the strength of the lead bull, and the relationship between the three figures.

There is also something timeless about elephants in sepia. They carry their own history. Their skin, their posture, their scale, and their silence all seem to belong to a world older than ours.

As a fine art print, Three Kings has been made to sit quietly but powerfully in a space. It is not an image that needs to shout. Whether placed in a contemporary home, a private study, a safari lodge, or a carefully considered interior, it carries the atmosphere of Africa’s wild spaces with it.

It is African wildlife wall art, but it is also a memory of a very particular afternoon in Botswana.

The Print

Three Kings is produced as a giclée pigment print on Hahnemühle Photo Rag, a 308gsm matte fine art paper known for its beautiful texture, depth, and archival quality.

The image size is 36 × 24 inches, with a paper size of 39 × 27.5 inches. It has been prepared for a 30 × 40 inch frame with a mount, allowing the photograph space to breathe once framed.

This is a print for people who love wild Africa — for safari enthusiasts, collectors of wildlife photography, interior designers looking for meaningful African wall art, and anyone who feels a connection to elephants, open landscapes, and conservation.

A Print That Gives Back

A photograph like this only exists because wild places still exist.

For that reason, 20% of the profits from sales of Three Kings will be donated to conservation, supporting Ecoexist — a program striving to create more harmony in the complex shared landscape of humans and elephants.

Learn more about the impact your purchase will have here.

For me, that connection matters. The print may hang in a home, but its story belongs to Botswana — to dry earth, late light, old elephant bulls, and the long walk towards water.

The Moment Before Water

Three Kings is not a photograph of arrival.

It is a photograph of anticipation.

The bulls have not yet reached the waterhole. The thirst has not yet lifted. The dust has not yet settled. They are still moving, still carrying the dry season in their bodies, still walking with that unmistakable authority of old elephant bulls.

That is what I wanted to hold onto.

Not just three elephants.

Three old bulls.

Three kings of the dry season, moving through the late afternoon light of Nxai Pan.

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If this story resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment below, reply directly, or find me on social media — conversations about wild places and the photographs that come from them are always welcome.

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