What He Saw, and What He Chose Not to Capture

Today, I found out Sebastião Salgado passed away.

I’m not writing this as a tribute.
I’m writing this as a photographer.

Book cover of GOLD by Sebastião Salgado on a textured surface resembling Brazilian earth, featured in a reflective post by photographer Bruno Candiotto.

Cover of GOLD by Sebastião Salgado, photographed on red earth — a book about the Serra Pelada mine and the people who moved it. This image appears here as reflection on memory, photography, and what we choose to carry. There’s not much to say. GOLD is gold.

Salgado was, and still is, one of the most respected names in photography. Not just in Brazil, but everywhere. His images carried weight. His projects went deep. And his path, for anyone who photographs, is hard to ignore.

Black and white photo of Bruno Candiotto standing near a mountain lake with his camera, featured in a reflective blog post about Sebastião Salgado and the unseen side of photography.

In this photo, I chose to lower the camera — just standing there. Almost ten years later, I bring this moment back. Quietly, and with thanks to Sebastião Salgado.

He walked through places most of us would hesitate to visit.
And he carried stories. Not just the ones he showed, but the ones he probably never told.

That’s what moves me the most.

Because there’s something about the act of photographing that only photographers really understand. The silence after a shutter. The things you saw but didn’t share. The weight of a good image. Not because it’s beautiful, but because it stayed.

There’s a scene in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty that resonates deeply with me. The photographer, poised to capture a rare moment, chooses instead to simply watch, to be present.
He says, “If I like a moment, I mean me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.”
I often think about the images Salgado might have chosen not to take, the moments he kept for himself.

In an interview in April 2024, Salgado reflected on his life and career of 50 years, stating:

“All that’s left now is to die. I’ve had a 50-year career and I’ve just turned 80. I’m closer to death than anything else. A person lives to maybe 90, so I’m not far. But I keep photographing, I keep working, I keep doing things the same way. I have no concern, no ambition about how I’ll be remembered. My life is in the photos — and nothing more.”

Salgado’s work has impacted countless photographers, myself included. He opened doors, set standards, and showed what’s possible when you dedicate a lifetime to seeing.

He also believed in memory. And in many ways, photography is just that.
Not about stopping time, but about staying with it.



Thank You, Sebastião Salgado — Rest in Peace.


Bruno Candiotto

Brazilian Photographer and Art/Creative Director

http://brunocandiotto.com
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