From a vehicle, you look down on an elephant. That sounds impossible, but the high seat of a safari truck flattens even the biggest bull. Lower the camera to the ground and everything changes.
At the waterhole hides of Tsavo, the lens sits a few centimetres above the mud. Elephants walk in against the sky, trunks swinging, water falling from their tusks, and suddenly they look as big as they are.
A low angle gives the animal back its scale, and the photograph its sense of place.
It also asks for stillness. At that distance, the herd knows you are there, and the photographs only come when they decide you are not worth worrying about.
