The sunrise on May 4, 2019 was a pivotal moment for the vision of this project. It was an epic morning with a sliver of clear horizon amongst a sky full of clouds, perfect conditions for pinks and purples. The kind that leaves us all in awe.

Walking along Clark Lambros Beach, I came across a dead gull. The bird seemed so fresh, not decomposed in anyway and not pecked or plucked apart by any other critters.

The dead red eyes were stunning.

In the scope of this project, the creative decisions were in a lot more flux than they are now, making choices with each edit of what this project will become.

From the beginning, I knew this would never be a ‘best of’ project, and I would never select photos based on what was ‘prettiest’ or what might sell best. The decisions have been to publish and edit based primarily on what best represents the morning.

The outtakes of that first dead seagull morning are incredible.

Even more important than the composition of the photo, how how “pretty” it might be, is the idea (or, very real reality) of nature. While death and nature are forever tied together, it’s seldom we ever see depth represented in nature photography. On this morning in 2019 I loved the dichotomy of this epic sunrise, with this beautiful bird that had freshly died.

If nothing else, it’s a promise to myself that once a year I will refuse to simply publish the prettiest photo.

Since this first dead seagull photo, I’ve always subtly been on the look out for the next one, which is not too frequent to come across.

In the years since the Sunrise Gallery opened, the dead seagull photos have long been some of the most commented and discussed photos.

I’m still trying to make the editing decision of a dead fawn on the beach, with waves washing over its corpse. That particular one, was a little more startling and raises the question of why we value the lives of some animals more than others.

Long live the seagull (or gull, or herring gull, or ring-billed gull).