A Visual Archive of Trust: Glenn Shepard in Conversation with Matney Gallery

For over three decades, anthropologist, photographer, and writer Glenn Shepard has documented the lifeways, cosmologies, and evolving realities of Indigenous communities in the Amazon basin. In this wide-ranging conversation, conducted on the occasion of Fragile Enchantment at Matney Gallery, Shepard reflects on his photographic practice, the ethical dimensions of fieldwork, and the power of portraiture to illuminate both vulnerability and resilience. From the rainforest village of Yomibato to the layered curatorial logic of a salon-style wall, this interview explores the intersections of ethnographic documentation, contemporary art, and cultural preservation—offering rare insight into a practice shaped by deep time, mutual trust, and a commitment to beauty in uncertain times.

On “Cristian” and Collaborative Fieldwork

Matney Gallery:
First off, I’m so glad your piece is in the show. It fits beautifully—there’s a particular resonance to it, and it reminds me a little of Charlie Hamilton James’s tonal style. It has that subtle atmospheric clarity.

Tell me about the boy in the photograph—what’s the story behind that image?

Glenn Shepard:
I call the portrait Cristian—that’s the boy’s name. He’s a young boy in the Matsigenka village of Yomibato, and I was there with Charlie Hamilton James and Nancy Santullo. Nancy runs an organization called Rainforest Flow https://rainforestflow.org, which does clean water and sanitation projects in remote Indigenous villages to improve public health.

Charlie’s been supporting our work for years—he’s helped promote it, done flash photo sales, and really used his platform to bring attention to it. He has, I think, around half a million followers, and he’s a very prominent National Geographic photographer. He came to the village—this was last June—to do some collaborative video and social media content about the health and water work we’re doing. But he was also collecting images for a new series and a book he’s working on that focuses on Indigenous peoples around the world. The working title is The Last Dance—it’s about the last remnants of wildlife and traditional lifeways, places like the Serengeti or remote Amazonian villages.

So we went around with him to different small settlements—family clusters, little hamlets—checking the water situation and documenting life there. At one point, Nancy and Charlie were off talking to someone else, and I saw this little boy, Cristian, sitting by himself in beautiful light inside a house. He was a little shy at first, but then he stuck his head out—and I got the shot.

I was actually using one of Charlie’s cameras. Nikon sponsors him, and they’d given him a couple of new mirrorless models—he had a Z7 and a Zf. I borrowed the Zx, which is the lower-resolution one, and he was using the Z7. I really liked how it handled.

So I asked him, “Hey Charlie, can you work your magic on this one?” He did—right there in the field, put it into Photoshop, clicked a few buttons, and turned it into a completely transformed image. The original was good, but what he did made it something else. I always credit him for that when I post it.

On Post-Processing and Digital Tools

Matney Gallery:
Did this experience shift the way you approach image editing or series development?

Glenn Shepard:

I’ve always worked in this mode—portraits of Indigenous people—but usually I just worked with what came out of the camera. Seeing how these digital tools can really transform an image got me thinking. Charlie’s process made me curious about how I could use that kind of subtle enhancement in the future. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, but it definitely inspired me.

It reminded me of working in the darkroom with black-and-white photography. You’d take a negative and print it, and you could already see the abstraction, the possibilities. But then during the printing process, you’d burn in one area, block out another, and suddenly you’d get this really striking image. It’s similar with digital now—using masks, adjusting colors. If you start with a really solid base image, just by playing with layers or using spotlight effects, you can bring out something that was already there, just not emphasized. It’s not about faking anything—it’s about drawing something forward.

Matney Gallery:
I remember you sent some photos of a shaman with smoke curling around his silhouette—it had a haunting depth.

Glenn Shepard:
Yes, that’s another powerful image—taken in a Kayapo village in Brazil. The shaman is in profile, smoke coming from his mouth. It’s already strong, but with the right treatment, it could become iconic. I just need to take the time to experiment with layers, color grading, maybe even blending exposures. I’m still learning.

On Archiving and Community Storytelling

Matney Gallery:
What are you working on currently?

Glenn Shepard:Glenn Shepard:
Right now, I’m focused on a long-overdue archival phase. I’ve accumulated thousands of photographs—color slides, black-and-white negatives, digital files—spanning over three decades, dating back to the late 1980s. Only a small percentage of those have been scanned, let alone properly catalogued. My goal is to create a visual timeline of the Matsigenka village of Yomibato, documenting how the community has changed over time. It’s essentially forty years of visual anthropology—quiet, daily moments that now serve as historical records.

But I don’t see this as my archive alone. I want to work directly with the people in the village—sit down together, review the images, and let them decide which photographs best represent their collective story. The idea is to co-curate a photographic book, presented in three languages: Spanish, English, and Matsigenka. If we can produce it collaboratively, the book could be sold at their tourism lodge, at the park guard stations, or other regional hubs. The proceeds would support ongoing water access and education projects—needs the community has identified.

Beyond the photographs, I also have years of audio recordings—oral histories, creation myths, interviews, and conversations with elders about traditional medicine and plant knowledge. Many of those elders have since passed away. I want to ensure that this material doesn’t just sit in an archive or on a hard drive somewhere. It needs to be returned to the community in a meaningful, usable form—whether as translated transcripts, digital libraries, or educational materials they can use on their own terms. This isn’t about preserving culture as a static object; it’s about building something living, reciprocal, and enduring.

On Fragile EnchantmentS

Matney Gallery:
Let’s talk about the show. What was your impression walking through the exhibition?

Glenn Shepard:The show has an interesting feel—very different pieces, but they all fit together in a compelling way. Toward the front, there’s a section with more organic, natural materials—wooden things, sculptures, forest-like textures. Then you have another wall with more human faces—portraiture—but done in all sorts of styles. That wall really stood out to me.

You’ve got highly stylized Greek-inspired portraits in 3D, Jill Carnes' folk art drawings, Rebecca’s more modern and impressionistic self-portraits—and then this image of an Indigenous boy. It’s like a history of portraiture all on one wall. From classical Greek to folk to digital and Indigenous—it’s a whole range. It feels like a patchwork quilt, not just in the variety of styles but in how it’s installed. Things go higher up on the wall than usual. You stacked the work more than you normally do, and I think it works—it makes the whole wall feel alive

Matney Gallery:
I was thinking a lot about the Brooklyn Museum when curating this show. They have this way of organizing work thematically rather than chronologically—you walk into a room and see African, European, Indigenous, and contemporary art all centered around a shared idea, rather than a fixed period or region. That approach really influenced me. I wanted the salon wall here to do something similar—to speak to fragility and enchantment, to create a space where beauty and memory persist, even amid disruption.

Glenn Shepard:
It definitely comes through. The way the sculptures are placed—they almost act like bookends for the wall of portraits. That whole arrangement, with paintings, textiles, and photographs layered together, creates a sort of visual quilt. It’s very arresting. The show has a layered feel that works really well, and your title, Fragile Enchantment, feels incredibly timely. We’re living in a moment where things that once seemed stable—freedom of expression, basic rights, even the idea of continuity—feel much more uncertain. The fragility you’re referencing isn’t just poetic—it’s political, emotional, and real. So I think the title frames the show in exactly the right way.

On Relationships and Long-Term Vision

Matney Gallery:
This show really comes out of long-standing relationships. I’ve been working with many of these artists for years. I don’t put together exhibitions by picking pieces to fit a specific style—it’s more like working with a living collection. These artists—Garth Fry, Jill Carnes, Rebecca, Olga Tobreluts, Steve Prince, and others—they’re part of an ongoing story here. I see my role as helping to amplify their voices in museum and collector contexts, and to make space for their work to be seen and understood on deeper terms.

Glenn Shepard:
That’s what makes it feel personal. The work in the show is so varied, but it holds together because it’s rooted in real relationships. These aren’t just aesthetic choices—they’re part of a larger narrative of care, history, and cross-cultural respect that you’ve built over time.

Matney Gallery:
Exactly. And conversations like this one—with you, with Garth, with Jill—are part of how that story gets told. It’s not just about exhibiting artwork; it’s about investing in people, in dialogue, in a process that unfolds over time.

Closing Thoughts

Matney Gallery:
Thanks again for being part of this, Glenn. I really appreciate the conversation. Hopefully we’ll get a chance to meet up in person—maybe in Richmond, or even up in Asbury Park sometime soon.

Glenn Shepard:
I’d love that. Let’s definitely plan for it.

Matney Gallery:
Yes, let’s stay in touch—would be great to talk more and see where this all leads.

Glenn Shepard:
Absolutely. It’s been a real pleasure. Talk so