Field Journal

In Conversation with Climate Advocate Sebastian Copeland
Written by Ash Routen // Photography by Sebastian Copeland

‘We save what we love. Seeing and listening to nature have been central to my work. But when nature speaks and we fail to listen, photography can make us hear with our eyes.’

Sebastian Copeland is a climate advocate, photographer, and polar traveller. His major polar journeys include traversing Antarctica by kite ski in 2011/12, and skiing the last five degrees of latitude to the North Pole in 2009.

‘I’m told I didn’t speak until I was eight, and I buried myself in books,’ Sebastian Copeland shares from his study in Munich. As an introspective child, he developed a strong connection to American writer Jack London’s daring Arctic adventure tales. Books became a refuge during a childhood spent shuttling between London, Paris, and New York, while being raised by a single mother.

Sebastian’s journey into the outdoors began on skis at just three years old, later progressing to holidays in Swaziland where his grandfather tracked and photographed wild animals. This, along with a head full of adventure tales, sparked something within.

‘I was sort of massaging nature in my DNA,’ Sebastian reflects. ‘The dream of the polar regions, and the skiing, led to this sense of wild nature and the cold.’

That journey to explore cold places took some time, though. After earning a degree in California, which included some climatology, he embarked on a career in commercial photography. Yet his longing for wild landscapes and interest in climate science felt out of place with fashion shoots and celebrity portraits. Even those close to him, like mentor and former Stanford Professor Stephen Schneider, noticed the disconnect.

‘Stephen in particular was like, “why are you wasting your time doing photography, when all you want to do is be out on the ice?”’

After nearly two decades in the studio Sebastian managed to leave that world behind and merge photography with climate advocacy and polar travel. He tells me that he aims to make the science accessible and emotional, a combination of ‘taking the science and reaching into people’s hearts by somehow triggering aspects of it that they can relate to’.

Sebastian speaks with the optimism and refined confidence of someone who has mastered the art of merging climate science with adventure for audiences such as the United Nations. He counts influential figures like the late Mikhail Gorbachev among his supporters, and in recognition of his advocacy, Emmanuel Macron awarded him the French National Order of Merit in 2019.

As we talk about the fusion of adventure and climate advocacy, I challenge him, suggesting that it sometimes feels like adventurers use the climate angle as a promotional tool to elevate their expeditions. ‘I’m of the personal belief that we need to hammer in this thing,’ Sebastian responds. ‘This is really an emergency, the situation that we’re in here. It’s not obviously the emergency that “hey, you know our children are going to die in the next generation” – no, it’s not going to be that. It’s not going to be the one after that either. Won’t be the one after that either. But we are conspiring to reduce the opportunities of the coming generation, making their lives a lot harder.’

His next point gave me pause for thought.

‘If I can get cosmic about it, there’s no proof to this day. Not to say there’s no great probabilities. The Drake equation takes us there and we discover exoplanets on a weekly basis, which is amazing. But at this point there is no empirical indication that there is another intelligence in the universe,’ he says. ‘We could very much f*** up the only spiritual purpose that exists in the entire known and unknown universe. I think that the responsibility requires a really heavy-handed approach.’

I’d never considered that environmental stewardship could extend beyond our own planet. Perhaps that’s the skill of a seasoned climate advocate – the ability to expand the audience’s thinking past what it was beforehand.

As we continue our conversation, it becomes evident that Sebastian doesn’t mean heavy-handed in a forceful way. Instead, he advocates for a variety of methods to raise awareness – the more the better, including adventure. He left behind a dogmatic approach to advocacy long ago, recognising that it often alienates people.

As well as speaking on climate change, Sebastian writes about and photographs the polar regions. Prior to our conversation I thumbed through his new book The Arctic: A Darker Shade of White, which covers a 20-year photographic odyssey across Greenland, Nunavut, Svalbard, Alaska, and the Arctic Ocean. Venerated conservationist Dr Jane Goodall has penned the foreword.

Adorning the front cover is an image of an almost perfectly triangular iceberg reflected in mirror-like pools of water and framed by dark clouds. I probe how he creates such a striking image. Sebastian seems glad I asked and goes on to explain how it can take weeks of waiting during melt season for the perfect conditions. ‘When I find an interesting ice cube, it’s not unusual for me to photograph it over and over under different circumstances, waiting for the day to manifest.’

I learn that the pools of meltwater surrounding these ‘cubes’ are full of frigid salt water, which is very dense, creating the perfect still conditions for reflections. Overcast skies help bring out the blues and greens of the ice that would otherwise be lost on a clear day. Of course, sometimes the right conditions never materialise. ‘I may have shot it a dozen times before. Hopefully conditions line up. Sometimes, they never do,’ Sebastian laments.

Beyond the image-making process I want to know more on what he hopes to achieve with these images. What do you want to tell us I ask? ‘My ambition is no different than any other photographer or artist. The purpose of art is to generate emotions. In this case, my photography endeavours to stimulate our cellular bond with nature. That attachment may sometimes be lost to the white noise of daily life, particularly in urban settings where my books are most likely to end up,’ he explains.

‘But there is a reason we use the term Mother Earth, right? Mothers are associated with love and nurturing,’ Sebastian continues. ‘The beauty that I document in nature, and that reveals itself to the committed traveller, is inherently a part of us. By sharing my visual experiences, my work is both an invitation to the voyage, and to contemplate.’

That notion may seem somewhat abstract, but he goes on to clarify. ‘If beauty is our unifying link to nature, it may well give the heart the arguments to commit the mind to a program of action. Because we save what we love. Seeing and listening to nature have been central to my work. But when nature speaks and we fail to listen, photography can make us hear with our eyes.’

I’ve often wondered, though, whether those of us who travel these delicate Arctic areas are listening intently enough. At times, it seems as though the landscape serves merely as a backdrop for capturing records, just another resource for our next piece of ‘content’.

‘Is there still a future for Arctic and polar travel and expeditions?’ I ask. ‘Should we consider stopping altogether?’

‘Exploration only masqueraded as a geographic exercise. In reality, that effort was always first about the inner search. We seek to find ourselves in exploration before seeking to draw maps,’ Sebastian suggests.

While he is keenly aware of the environmental effects of polar expeditions and rising tourism, he continues to support travel in these regions, provided it is approached responsibly. ‘Our planet may well be shrinking with fewer places to discover, but the inner discovery is always open for business. So of course we should still go! We should decarbonise to the extent that it is possible – and it is.’

Despite recently entering his seventh decade, Sebastian still has some inner discovery left, I sense. While his days of hard travel and major expeditions may be over, I inquire about the future of his advocacy and photography.

‘They say that athletes die twice, and there may be some truth to that. I’ll probably not break records moving forward. And that’s OK. But I’m not done pushing myself. And the ice is the terrain I am most comfortable to do this on. There are three pillars to my house: adventure, advocacy, and art. This gives me plenty of room to continue my voyage of discovery and feed my purposeful drive to share.’

As our conversation winds down, Sebastian declares that he intends to focus on ambitious, science-based projects that can reach wider audiences. His mission going forwards is undeniably a lofty one.

‘We will not solve the culture war that exists between nature and humanity until we start to recognise that the philosophies of our biosphere are, in the end, not so different than our own, at the core. To reactivate the link that unifies us – that is what I intend to keep working at, and it should keep me busy until the end.’