Jeremiah A. Gilbert

Your work captures both the vastness of the world and its most intimate human moments. How do you decide what kind of story a place will tell through your lens?

I think every place has its own rhythm, and my job is to tune into it. I rarely arrive somewhere knowing what story I want to tell — instead, I let the story reveal itself through time, light, and human connection. Sometimes that story unfolds in the vastness of a landscape, where scale and silence speak louder than words. Other times, it’s in a single, fleeting gesture — a glance, a laugh, a quiet act of daily life. Before I ever raise the camera, I spend time simply being present — walking, observing, listening. I want to feel what it’s like to be there. The story a place tells comes from that emotional and sensory experience. In the end, I try to create images that balance the epic with the intimate — showing that even in the grandest scenes, it’s the human presence, however small, that gives the world its meaning.

Jeremiah A. Gilbert | Gyeongbokgung Palace, Seoul, South Korea | 2025

You’ve visited more than a hundred countries. Are there certain places that have shaped your artistic vision more than others?

Absolutely. Certain places stay with you long after you’ve left, and they inevitably shape how you see the world — and how you photograph it. For me, it’s often the places that challenge my sense of scale and perspective. The stillness of Antarctica, for example, taught me to embrace minimalism and the power of negative space. In contrast, the chaos and color of markets in India or Morocco reminded me how beauty can emerge from rhythm and movement. But beyond geography, it’s the emotional resonance of a place that leaves a mark. Standing in a remote village in the Andes or watching dusk settle over a temple in Thailand — those moments recalibrate your awareness of light, time, and human connection. Each place adds a layer to my visual language. Over time, I’ve realized my artistic vision isn’t shaped by any single destination, but by the way these experiences intersect — vast and intimate, structured and spontaneous — forming a kind of global mosaic of perception.

Jeremiah A. Gilbert | Halong Bay, Vietnam | 2014

Many of your photographs reveal quiet, contemplative atmospheres. What draws you to those still, reflective moments rather than dramatic or action-filled scenes?

I’m drawn to stillness because it reveals something essential — both about the place and about ourselves. In those quiet, in-between moments, the noise of the world falls away, and what remains feels honest and timeless. Drama and action have their place, but contemplation allows space for emotion to breathe. For me, photography isn’t about capturing spectacle; it’s about capturing presence. A soft light on a wall, a figure lost in thought, the hush before a city wakes — these are the moments that ask you to pause and feel rather than just look. Stillness has its own power. It invites connection, reflection, and a kind of empathy that can transcend language or culture.

Jeremiah A. Gilbert | Kampong Glam, Singapore | 2014

How has your perception of “travel” evolved from your early trips to your most recent journeys?

In the beginning, travel was about discovery — the excitement of new places, new cultures, new images to capture. I was chasing the world, trying to see as much as I could. Over time, that impulse has quieted. Now, travel feels less about movement and more about meaning. It’s no longer just where I go, but how deeply I can connect once I’m there. I’ve learned that the most profound journeys aren’t always to distant places; sometimes they’re about seeing the familiar with new eyes. My perception of travel has shifted from collecting experiences to cultivating awareness — slowing down, listening more, and letting each encounter change the way I see both the world and myself.

Jeremiah A. Gilbert | Sakya Monastery, Tibet | 2006

You often mention curiosity as the core of your practice. How do you sustain that sense of wonder after visiting so many places?

Curiosity is less something I have to sustain than something I return to intentionally. Every place, no matter how familiar, holds layers I haven’t yet seen — a pattern of light, a fleeting expression, a sound that shifts my perception. I try to approach each moment as if I’m encountering it for the first time, which keeps wonder alive. Travel also teaches patience and attentiveness. When I slow down, walk instead of rush, and allow myself to truly observe, the world continually surprises me. After more than a hundred countries, I’ve realized that curiosity isn’t about novelty; it’s about presence — noticing what’s often overlooked and letting that discovery guide my photography.

Jeremiah A. Gilbert | Takayama, Japan | 2014

Some of your images, such as those taken in Tibet, Vietnam, or Japan, balance cultural documentation and personal emotion. How do you navigate between being a storyteller and a respectful observer?

For me, the line between storyteller and observer is guided by empathy and attentiveness. I enter every place with curiosity, but also humility — recognizing that I am a guest in someone else’s world. My goal is never to impose a narrative, but to translate what I see and feel in a way that honors the people and cultures I encounter. I try to photograph from a place of connection rather than extraction. That might mean waiting for a moment of genuine interaction, noticing subtleties in daily life, or simply observing quietly until a story emerges on its own. Balancing documentation and emotion comes down to presence: being fully aware of the environment, the people, and my own role within it, so the images reflect both authenticity and respect.

Jeremiah A. Gilbert | Wat Phanan Choeng Ayutthaya Thailand | 2012

What advice would you give to emerging travel photographers seeking to find their own voice in a world saturated with images?

Finding your own voice as a travel photographer in today’s image-saturated world starts with curiosity, not technique. Before you worry about followers or trends, immerse yourself in the places you visit—listen, observe, and let the environment shape your perspective. The most distinctive images often come from moments that resonate with you personally, rather than what you think the world wants to see. Equally important is patience. Developing a unique visual language doesn’t happen overnight. Experiment relentlessly—shoot different styles, angles, and subjects—and don’t be afraid to fail. Over time, patterns emerge, and your eye begins to recognize what feels authentic to you. The photographers who stand out aren’t those who imitate others, but those who translate their genuine experiences into images that make viewers see the world through their eyes.