Laurin Strele Interview
For me, the camera is not just a tool to capture what I see—it’s a way to listen, to understand, and to honor the human stories unfolding before me.
Q. What first pulled you behind the lens, and how has your perspective as a photographer evolved since then?
I first picked up a camera as a way to remember the places I’d been to, but very quickly it stopped being about memory and became about meaning. In the beginning, I was chasing moments that looked good. Now, I’m looking for moments that feel true. My perspective has shifted from 'taking' a photograph to 'earning' it... through trust, patience, and understanding.
Q. Your portfolio with Leica, Middle East Images, and Getty Images spans cultures and continents. How do you adapt your visual language to different audiences and contexts?
I approach every assignment as a conversation. Each culture has its own rhythm, its own visual cues, and even its own body language. I spend time observing before I start shooting- listening, learning the pace of a place, and adjusting my style accordingly.
For example, in some places you need to work quietly and invisibly, in others you can be more direct and collaborative. My goal is to create images that feel authentic to the people in them, no matter who is viewing them.
Q. When you’re on assignment, what’s your process for finding the shot that tells the entire story?
I try to be present before I try to be clever. That means spending time in the environment without immediately lifting the camera. I look for the small interactions, the visual threads that connect a moment to the larger narrative. Often, the 'entire story' isn’t a single grand scene, it’s a small moment that holds all the tension, beauty, or truth of the bigger picture.
Q. Many of your photographs carry a strong sense of place and emotion. What’s your process for capturing both in a single frame?
For me, place and emotion aren’t separate, the emotion is often tied to the environment. I use light, layers, and composition to ground a subject in their surroundings while still keeping the emotional core visible. Sometimes that means stepping back to show context; other times, it means moving in close enough that the background becomes just a suggestion but still hints at where we are.
Q. Many of your images feel both spontaneous and meticulously composed. Is that balance instinct, preparation, or a bit of both?
It’s both. You prepare by knowing your gear inside out, by anticipating light and movement, and by being familiar with the flow of an environment. But you also need instinct, the readiness to react in a split second when something unexpected happens. The best images often happen at the intersection of preparation and chaos.
Q. Has there ever been a moment in your career where capturing an image changed the way you saw the subject, or yourself?
Yes. In war zones, I’ve photographed moments of tenderness between people who had lost almost everything. Those moments reminded me that even in the harshest circumstances, humanity finds ways to express love, humour, and dignity. It changed the way I see my role, not just as a witness to tragedy, but as someone who can also document resilience.
Q. In a world where billions of photos are taken daily, what makes an image unforgettable?
An unforgettable image is one that lingers in your mind after you’ve looked away. It’s not about sharpness or perfection, it’s about connection. If a photograph makes you feel something you didn’t expect, or see something you thought you understood in a new way, it becomes part of you.
Q. You often work in places rich with cultural and human narratives. How do you ensure your photographs respect and amplify those stories, rather than just consume them?
I work with consent, not just in the legal sense, but in the human sense. I spend time building trust, explaining my intentions, and giving people space to say no. I also share work with the communities. I photograph when possible. It’s about creating something with people, not just about them.
Q. If you could photograph any person, place, or moment, or any moment in history, real or imagined, where would you go, and what would you frame?
I’d love to have photographed the streets of Havana in the 1950s, before the revolution, the energy, the colours, the sense of a city at a crossroads. Moments like that, where history is quietly shifting beneath the surface, are the ones that fascinate me most.
Bio:
Laurin Strele is a photographer and visual storyteller whose work spans conflict zones, post-war recovery, and intimate human narratives across more than 60 countries. His images have been published in GEO, Newsweek, and Getty Images, and exhibited in cities from Shanghai, Vienna, Ho Chi Minh, and Zurich. Working with Leica and Middle East Images, he blends documentary rigor with a sensitivity for the human stories at the heart of every frame.
Interviewed by: Divya Darshini
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