'If It's Been Done Before, I'm Not Interested' – The Uncompromising Compositions of Chris Packham
From a young age, Chris Packham was torn between art and science. His mother brought him to galleries; his analytically-minded father took him to museums to view the natural history. They were the only two subjects at school that interested the young Packham, and the only two at which he excelled.
In his twenties – after instructive detours through punk music, academia and oil painting – Packham discovered he could resolve this disciplinary tension through the practice of photography.
‘When I graduated from university, I had no photographic training,’ Packham recalls. ‘I bought all the photography books I could, and I read them all. I went to evening classes to do black and white development and printing. I did some work for my sister, who’s a fashion designer, and ended up having a couple of pictures published in Vogue. But eventually I realised that, if I was going to communicate more effectively, I needed to photograph something that I had a connection with. That was always going to be nature.’
As Packham describes it, the idea for a photograph arrives in his mind much like a well-formed theory, and, like a scientist designing an experiment, he contrives to engineer the conditions necessary for such a photograph to come into being, imposing rigorous constraints on time, attention and the scope of his focus. Reducing uncertainty, increasing control.
'Science is the art of understanding truth and beauty,’ the photographer maintains. ‘The more I understand why I’m perceiving something as beautiful, the better I can maximise and communicate that beauty to the viewer.’
Packham’s photographic practice is as singular and unapologetically eccentric as his character; his neurodivergent traits amplify an obsessive, uncompromising temperament common among highly productive and creative people. ‘Control is a crucial aspect for me,’ he insists, ‘The more control you have, the better.’
Achieving this control can take many forms: planting stakes in the ground to demarcate the area of focus, squeaking to attract the attention of foxes, shining a laser pen on the ground to redirect the gaze of a leopard. In this sense, Packham’s photography resists the conventions that dominate much of wildlife photography. He is not interested in chance sightings, or the quiet triumph of simply witnessing nature. Nor is he drawn to the documentary imperative that shapes much conservation photography, where the urgency of the message subordinates the integrity of the image. For Packham, the photograph itself remains paramount. If it fails compositionally, it fails entirely.
But if his practice is unhindered by the need to be didactic, it’s because morality informs Packham’s art at a deeper level. Unconditional love for non-human animals and radical ecocentrism are the fundamental motivations for his work.
'The gallery where I’m exhibiting these works has displayed some beautiful images of Audrey Hepburn,’ he says, ‘and though she’s obviously stunning – can she really hold a torch to the Arctic tern? In naming this exhibition, I’m insisting that we need to perceive these animals in a different way. They are more beautiful than you. We cannot decide that it’s “survival of the cutest.” All life is beautiful.’
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As a glimpse into Packham's exhibition at Iconic Images Gallery Piccadilly, running from March 12 - April 12, we take a look at some of his most striking images and the fascinating stories behind them.
God of War – Cape Buffalo, Kicheche Camp, Kenya, 2019.
This photograph was imagined years before it was taken: a symmetrical composition, starkly lit, the massive horns framing a face that appears less like an animal than a totem or icon.

But buffalo are not co-operative subjects. They cannot be coaxed, baited, or positioned without risk. They live in remote landscapes, appear unpredictably, and retreat quickly from unfavourable light. For six years, the image existed in Packham’s mind only as an idea, refined mentally while he travelled around Africa, waiting for the right conditions to align.
As Packham explains: ‘The buffalo are the most dangerous animals in Africa – it’s contested who kills more, the buffalo or the hippopotamus. I had this idea for a symmetrical photograph of a buffalo, with really harsh lighting. But they generally only come out in the morning or evening, avoiding the heat. Then one day, I was visiting a hyena den for a different project, and as we drove along in the jeep we came across a wallow with about eight buffalo. I told the driver to stop. Buffalo are very curious, and as we gently herded them around with the vehicle, one of them came out from under the shade of this tree and looked directly at me. The moment I pressed the shutter I thought, “I’ve got it – after six years of dreaming.”’
On the Earthy Bed Beneath the Beech – Red Fox, New Forest, UK, 2023
This photograph is designed to deceive. It appears to show a sleeping fox, curled gently at the base of a tree, framed by woodland that feels untouched, enchanted. The light is soft, the composition serene. It invites a sentimental response – an improbable image of natural stillness, beauty and safety.
‘I was in a photographic bookshop,’ Packham recalls, ‘and I found this book of postmortem photography. In certain countries up until the 1930s, when a loved one died, before you called the undertaker, you called a photographer, who would arrange that person sitting up or lying down as if they were still alive, and take a photograph of them. I was very disturbed by this book, I couldn’t get it out of my mind.’
When he comes across the bodies of dead animals, Packham often preserves them, finding them too beautiful to routinely discard. ‘I began to see a parallel between myself and the postmortem photography. The dead animal was so beautiful, I just couldn't let it go. Everything about the scene is designed to feel magical. The background, the light, even the viewpoint, slightly elevated, almost heavenly. People say, “Look at that sleeping fox – what a beautiful photograph.” Then I tell them the fox is dead, and the whole illusion collapses. You realise it isn’t wonderful at all. It’s tragic. The fox has been killed by a car. That moment – when appreciation of beauty becomes discomfort – is exactly the point.’
Rorschach Family – African Elephants, Okavango, Botswana, 2010
After deciding which animal to photograph, a crucial part of Packham’s process is looking at what already exists in order to determine what he will not repeat. ‘If it’s been done before,’ goes his motto, ‘I’m not interested.’

For subjects with which he has infrequent acquaintance – elephants, for example – his preparation begins on a laptop months in advance. He studies vast quantities of images, not for inspiration, but to figure out how an elephant reads through a lens. From which angles does it become awkward? How much of the far eye can be shown without distortion? What kinds of positions create grace, and which make the animal look like a grey lump?
The process led him to the image displayed here, a silhouette that exploits the elephant’s unusual geometry – trunk, dome, legs – to create a complex but cleanly doubled form. It demanded conditions that wildlife rarely grants, still water, the correct number of elephants, the sun positioned to maximise reflection, and a camera placed so low that it looks across the water’s skin rather than down through it.
Since the use of a vehicle could compromise any of these elements, Packham researched locations where it was possible to leave the car safely, then contacted guides and sent them a drawing of the image he intended to make.
As is often the case, the reality on the ground had little respect for the photographer’s vision. A large gang of elephants arrived, their jostling bodies creating too much overlap and producing a single black mass punctured by stray trunks. Having travelled almost 8,000 miles to see elephants, he now wanted most of them to take their leave so that he could get the shot he wanted.
Then, as he lay in the water with his camera during sunrise, the shot Packham had envisioned fell into place. Two adult elephants, flanked by their calves, raised their trunks high above the watering hole.
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