There are few places left on Earth that truly defy comprehension. Antarctica is one of them. Photographer Matt Sharp recently returned from sailing south of Cape Horn to the icy wilderness at the bottom of the world, a journey that left him both humbled and inspired.
“Antarctica is one of the most extraordinary places on Earth,” he says. “It is a place of staggering scale and contrast, both brutal and beautiful, harsh yet full of life. It reminds you how small we are, and how deeply we have drifted from the rhythms of the natural world. Yet the lasting impression is one of hope, hope for what can still be.”
For Matt, the voyage south was a long-held dream. “I have always wanted to sail south of the Horn,” he says. “It feels like a rite of passage, earning the right to be there.” His route took him across the notorious Drake Passage, the restless stretch of sea that separates South America from the Antarctic Peninsula, a crossing as legendary as it is unpredictable.
“The Drake has moods,” he explains. “Grey, green, steel blue, sometimes fire. The winds build and drop as if the sea cannot decide what it wants to be. Wandering albatrosses follow above, hourglass dolphins below. Days pass without edges, just the rhythm of the waves and the sound of the hull.”
After several days, the first iceberg appeared on the horizon. “Nothing prepares you for the scale of the place,” he says. “That first glimpse feels like arriving on another planet.”
Landing at Mikkelsen Harbour on Trinity Island, Matt found himself surrounded by life amid the frozen silence. “Passing snow flurries gave only glimpses of the mountains and glaciers, but the hostility of the place is palpable, raw and immense. The rookery in the bay offered our first meeting with gentoo penguins, unfazed by the storm, going about their lives as though we were not there at all.”
It is the kind of scene that shifts your perspective entirely, a reminder that life endures even in the harshest conditions. Back on deck, condensation clouded lenses, batteries froze, and the constant battle against cold became part of the rhythm. “The environment forces patience,” he says. “You slow down to its pace.”
Among the expedition’s quieter discoveries were the weathered huts that still dot the coastline. “I did not expect to develop such a fondness for the Antarctic huts,” he admits. “They stand there, these faded shapes against the white, paint peeling, windows clouded. There is something timeless about them, almost cinematic. They are the human story written into a landscape that does not need one.”
For Matt, Antarctica will never be just another destination. “It changes how you see everything else,” he says. “It is like outer space, mythic, humbling and alive. You come away with this awareness that fragility and endurance can exist together.”
Wild Hope, his accompanying stills exhibition that he presented at The Jersey Arts Centre builds on that reflection, celebrating the resilience of the natural world and reminding us that when the wild is given space, it can find its way back. The exhibition is on until the 6th December, so if you’ve grabbed this edition as soon as it’s out, head down to see it!
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