Lalo de Almeida

Hi Maya! I’m currently on the plane returning to my home in São Paulo after spending two weeks working on a story in the Amazon region.

I’ve always had a very strong connection with nature. Ever since I was a teenager, I travelled with friends, photographing our adventures and the Brazilian landscapes. That was until one day I published the photographs from one of these trips in a magazine, and they even paid me for it (laughs). I realised that what I loved so much could actually be a way of life. When I decided to become a photographer, I dropped out of geology school at the University of São Paulo to become a nature photographer.
But my first job was at a small photojournalism agency in Milan, Italy, where I went to study. I fell in love with photojournalism and have been doing it for over thirty years. In fact, I realise that what I’ve been doing for the last ten or twelve years, photographing all these socio-environmental issues such as the fires in the Pantanal and the threats to the Amazon, is a return to my origins in photography. I photograph nature, but now with the impact caused by humankind. This humanised landscape, the relationship between people and the environment they occupy, especially the consequences of this occupation, is what interests me the most.

I think the main role of photography is to draw people’s attention to certain issues, to show the complexity of things, to make people think. At a time when the world’s problems are being dealt with in an increasingly shallow, simplistic way, or even with false information, bringing quality information and making people think is already a huge gain. But breaking through the bubbles and reaching people isn't easy, and in this sense, photojournalism is very powerful. It’s a very direct form of communication, but because it uses static photographic language, it’s also a tool for reflection.

The way I photograph doesn’t allow me to be a voyeur. Although I’m shy, and after all this time I still find it difficult and even embarrassing to photograph people, it’s very rare that I photograph someone without first talking to them and explaining what I’m doing. This is because 95% of my work is done with wide-angle lenses, which means I have to be close to what I’m photographing. And even if I am close, I try to interfere as little as possible in the scene, which is sometimes almost impossible. My own presence, a totally alien figure in certain environments, especially in the places I usually work, is very difficult to miss. I often feel like an albino giraffe walking among people, with everyone looking at me. It’s quite a challenge to document reality as an albino giraffe (laughs).

This issue of climate change really distresses me. I’ve always had an intense relationship with nature, and to see these natural environments in a process of degradation over the years is terrible. And for me, the most distressing thing is to see that most people find it very difficult to understand what is happening, largely because of the false information that circulates. So in my mind, I’d like the photographs I take to act as a warning to people. But most of the time I feel like I’m talking to a wall. It’s very difficult to communicate with people these days; we’re all stuck in our own bubbles.

It’s always important to get your work out to a wider audience. Since I publish most of my photos in Brazilian newspapers, the work doesn’t tend to have a very wide reach. But although the photos are taken in Brazil, the issues are global, so reaching a larger audience is very important. It’s also a festival that honours Latin American photography, which, despite its strength, isn’t featured very often. It’s an honour for me to be alongside Latin American photographers who I admire so much.

In reality, this model of predatory exploitation that has been perpetuated in the Amazon since colonial times was conceived from the outside in. Outsiders have always treated the Amazon as a colony supplier of raw materials (timber, minerals, energy) to the rest of the world, without considering the indigenous populations or the forest. It’s true that a large part of the small and medium-sized municipalities in the Amazon region live off some illegal activity, which is even socially accepted, because it was the economic model imposed on the region and the people who live there. If the only option to survive and support their families is to cut down a tree or mine in a river, they will do it because they are in survival mode. And if I were in that situation, I would probably do the same.
Of course, I’m not talking about the big criminals who use this cheap labour to plunder the forest and make millions. They need to be punished. If we want to preserve the Amazon rainforest, we need to find a socio-environmental development model that guarantees a decent livelihood for these poor people but also preserves the environment. Enforcement  operations alone to curb deforestation will not stop the destruction of the forest. We need to think about a new economic model for the region, one that is fairer from a social point of view and much more sustainable. I hope that my photographs manage to portray these many layers, the complexity of the Amazon region.

Of course, we are. The problem is that collectively, we still don't realise this. Often our society is influenced by the choices of single individuals or small groups, but the impact of these choices affects everyone. The model of society we have today based on consumption can’t work. Produce more, extract more, consume more, pollute more. Our beloved planet is getting tired.
About three years ago, I took a road trip across the USA to document the impacts of climate change on the American population. The most impactful thing to me was not seeing the cities destroyed by forest fires in California or the trail of destruction left by a hurricane in Lousiana, but the mentality of the people, who are themselves victims of climate change. Most of them don’t believe in climate change, and many of them are conspiracy theorists, which is very depressing.

I decided to show the work in black and white for two reasons. One more practical and the other more conceptual. The project was done in stages and most of the photographs were published, in colour, in the Folha de São Paulo newspaper over almost ten years.
When I decided to edit Amazonian Dystopia, I brought together all the photos taken over that period and realised that the work lacked a certain unity. During the ten years I had been photographing, I had changed cameras three times, so the colour and texture of the photos were a little different from each other. I also wanted the images to have a timeless look, because in reality the processes I had photographed were repeated throughout the history of the occupation of the Amazon. The photo I took in 2019 could be an image taken in 1969. So turning everything into black and white made perfect sense. It gave it more unity and made it more timeless, in my opinion.

Although it’s a bit heavy, I really enjoy what I do. I have a real interest in the subjects I document, not just from a photographic point of view. So I’m always reading up on these subjects, doing research, etc. Of course, shooting these stories is physically and psychologically tiring, and the best way for me to recover is to come back home. Being with my family is where I recharge my batteries. It's a bit of a cliché, but that’s how it is. I’m definitely not a nomad—I love to go out photographing, but nothing compares to the joy of coming home. I’m a simple guy.

The Amazon region is immense in every sense. The largest rainforest, the largest rivers, the greatest biodiversity on the planet. It’s essential to showcase this vastness. At the same time, this continental territory is occupied by 180 indigenous peoples of different ethnicities, as well as other traditional communities such as quilombolas (Afro-descendant communities) and river dwellers. And on top of all this, a destructive process of occupation that respects neither the forest nor traditional communities has been taking place for centuries, with consequences of Amazonian proportions.
The only reason the impacts of this predatory occupation haven’t been greater is because there were indigenous people defending their territories and their own existence. Living in these communities made me realise the visceral connection that exists between us human beings and nature. And it made me realise how badly we as a species have become disconnected from this relationship.

There are so many places I like. Brazil is a country with continental dimensions and very different regions. Each one has its own charm. The Amazon, with its forest, the cycle of floods and droughts of the rivers, the diversity of the indigenous populations, is a good choice. The Pantanal, a biome that is a large floodplain, is probably the best place in Brazil to see wildlife. The northeastern Sertão (hinterland), a semi-arid region covered by a very characteristic vegetation called caatinga, is occupied by a population that has a very strong culture. This diversity of landscapes and people is what fascinates me most about Brazil.

I’m starting a project on the impacts of climate change on traditional populations in the Amazon. In 2023, the region suffered the worst drought in its history, and these extreme events are expected to occur more frequently. The idea of this project is to show how traditional Amazonian populations, who have developed a sophisticated relationship with the cycles of nature over centuries, will react to a new climate reality. My fear is that they won't be able to adapt their ancient way of life, a rich diversity that could be in danger of disappearing.