Dee’s Wild Diary

Our lecturer was rarely available during those three years of study. I ended up learning most of what I knew on the job.

Luckily, that was also the dawn of digital photography. Learning tricks of the trade became more accessible, and I’ve been self-teaching ever since. Different types of photography demand different knowledge, and I’ve found that experimentation has been the most powerful teacher of all.

Fast forward to my wildlife journey… At first, it was just a hobby. I had long since moved on from documentary, studio, and event photography, work I once considered a perishable skill. My path veered into design and communications, and photography quietly took a backseat. But one thing never changed: my love for animals and wild places. Birding reawakened that passion and pulled me back into the field with fresh eyes.

I didn’t share any images from my first safari for 16 years. I took them on a Canon EOS 350D with a Sigma 70–300mm long lens. It was one of the earliest digital cameras. That setup was a generous gift from my sister. I never thought much of the photos. Maybe it was low self-esteem. Maybe a voice inside told me I needed someone else’s approval. Or I at least thought I needed approval before I could believe in my own eye.

My endlessly supportive husband encouraged me to pursue art photography more seriously. Only then did I start curating and uploading my archive. To my surprise, it was my monochrome images — my black-and-white expressions — that resonated most.

Three of those images were chosen by Picfair’s curation team as “PicStars”. This is a distinction given to exceptional photographs. These photographs meet their highest editorial standards. For me, it wasn’t just an accolade. It was the first time an external platform validated my eye. They recognized it as something worth noticing. Seeing those little gold stars on those three images felt like a quiet, powerful nod from the creative universe. It said: This is something. Keep going.

Not validation in the form of fame or approval, but the quiet kind. The kind that says: what you’ve created has value; your eye sees something worth sharing. It reignited my joy — not just in taking photos, but in telling fleeting stories through them. Stories might one day shed light on the urgent plight of our wildlife. Conflict and human expansion threaten their very existence. Or perhaps they’ll simply bring someone peace and wonder, a window into the wild they can hang on their wall.