The Story Behind The Shot (More will follow!)

The Night Herdsman, Tersk Russia, 1983

I’ve decided it’s time to begin sharing the stories behind some of the images I’ve created over the past five decades, and every photograph has a story. Sometimes, the story is bigger than the image. This one takes us to Communist Russia, 1983, during the height of the Cold War. I was at the State Arabian Stud Farm in Tersk, photographing the legendary stallion Menes. It was my first time working behind what was then the Iron Curtain. My assignment in Tersk lasted 10 days, leaving me with ample time to explore the sprawling farm grounds after my official photography sessions concluded. By day, the mares and foals stood quietly in their stalls. But as evening settled over Tersk, they were released into the surrounding pastures — rolling fields of deep grass that seemed to stretch toward the horizon. I watched them drift outward, spreading across the land as the light thinned. And then it struck me… There were no fences. No rails. No wire. No visible boundary to separate security from wilderness. Just open ground dissolving into shadow. As darkness deepened, the night riders mounted. Regardless of the weather, they rode with the herd until dawn, silent guardians moving alongside bloodlines that represented decades of national breeding. Wolves and bears were real dangers in that region. At that time, there were also people who saw them as a food source, unaware of the value of the grazing there. The position carried deep respect. The State entrusted this duty only to proven horsemen of unwavering loyalty. These weren't mere farm animals they protected, but living treasures and the future of the Soviet Arabian horse breeding program. I remember watching one rider stopping after drifting through the tall grass as dusk turned to indigo. Horse and man moved as one against the vast Caucasus sky. And at that moment, I understood something. Protection isn’t always built with walls and barbed wire. Sometimes it rides quietly beside what matters most. That realization stayed with me long after I left Russia. It reshaped how I thought about value, responsibility — and even freedom.