Before moving to Brazil, I had photographed surfing exactly once.
Surfer Stefanie Gunneman-Gallo gives thanks in Seaside Heights, New Jersey where we spent a chilly day capturing her passion for the sport during the winter of 2005.
Back in the winter of 2005, I put out a call looking for a local winter surfer willing to be photographed along the New Jersey shore. A young surfer named Stefanie Gallo responded, and we arranged to meet in Seaside Heights. We spent a frigid day documenting her passion for the sport as she carved through icy Atlantic waves.
At the time, I never imagined surfing would become such an important part of my life. It was cold, windy, and difficult to see beyond the discomfort of the moment. Looking back now, that day produced one of the earliest images I ever created that truly meant something to me.
Fast forward more than twenty years.
Pro surfer Bernardo Dobordovsky flies high in Arpoador
I now live in Ipanema, just a stone's throw from Arpoador, the birthplace of Rio de Janeiro's surf culture. A few months after moving here, my wife brought back some of my "real" camera equipment from New Jersey. For the first time in nearly six months, I felt like a professional photographer again after shooting exclusively with an iPhone and a Sony point and shoot for too long.
I was also looking for distractions.
While my wife was working one morning, I wandered down to the beach to check the surf. Among the dozens of surfers in the lineup, one immediately caught my eye. He wasn’t just riding waves he was absolutely ripping them. Launching off the lip, he seemed to fly above the wave before landing cleanly and throwing 180s and other aerial maneuvers. Compared to everyone else in the water, he looked like he was surfing on a completely different level.
Anderson ‘Pikachu’ Carvalho
After posting a few photos on Instagram I asked innocently, "Does anyone know who this guy is?" I received replies from dozens of surfers and Arpoador regulars. Their responses were polite but almost incredulous.
"Of course that's Pikachu, the Prince of Arpoador."
Later I learned that Pikachu's real name is Anderson Carvalho, a 25-year-old professional surfer with an inspiring story. Raised in the Cantagalo community, he learned to surf at just four years old.
Before long, he became my muse.
Pro surfer Gabriel Palmeira inside a barrel on Arpoador
Then there were others: Gabriel, Ariane, Pedro, Magno, Dudinha, Luiza, maybe my favorite was a remarkably talented five-year-old Jack Russell Terrier named Benji.
Little by little, I ingratiated myself into this unbelievably welcoming community of surfistas. I'd heard the horror stories of territorialism and localism in surfing, what Nirvana once called “territorial pissings,” in places like Australia and California. But I found none of that here.
Benji a popular Jack Russell terrier who learned how to surf from his dad, Bernardo
What I found instead was surf culture at its finest.
Soon, leaving the apartment just after the sun rose and telling my wife, "I'm going surfing," became part of my daily routine, even though I never touched a surfboard.
I had found my own version of surfing.
Sometimes I photographed from the beach. Other times I climbed onto the iconic Arpoador Rock, where I captured some of my favorite images. One morning, I photographed Gabriel riding through a perfect barrel an image that became my Holy Grail of sports images. The moment was so special that I immediately texted my wife.
"Sweetie, I think I just got the picture of a lifetime."
MARIA EDUARDA CESAR carves through the waves during the Tyr Energy Circuit Arpoador Surf Club Arpex Groms 2025 competition at Praia do Arpoador in Rio de Janeiro. The annual event highlights emerging talent in Brazil’s junior surf scene, with boys and girls competing in several age divisions. “Groms” is surf slang for young, up-and-coming surfers. Arpoador, considered the birthplace of Brazilian surfing, is an iconic break known for its consistent waves and passionate local surf culture.
Surf photography took on even greater meaning after the loss of my mother-in-law and, later, my best friend, Bodhi. (Named after the Bodhisattva, not Patrick Swayze's character in Point Break.)
I would spend hours perched on the rock, camera in hand, listening to The Tragically Hip as I worked through my grief. Around me were the sounds of crashing waves, shouting vendors, and the occasional whistle of a lifeguard cutting through the ocean breeze.
One day, while photographing from the rock, I noticed what I thought was a dog swimming among the surfers. Curious, I zoomed in for a closer look.
It wasn't a dog.
It was a penguin.
Far from home, it had somehow found its way to Ipanema, perhaps on a journey to find a mate. For a few moments, it shared the waves with the surfers below, another traveler finding its place in unfamiliar waters.
And maybe that's why the sight resonated with me.
Because, in many ways, I was that penguin.
This is my long-winded way of saying that maybe surfing saved me.
Not in the literal sense. I never felt like I needed saving.
But surfing and the people who surrounded it, gave me a gentle nudge toward something unfamiliar. It pulled me out of grief, out of routine, and into a community filled with positivity, kindness, and joy.
Without realizing it, I found exactly what I needed to thrive in my adopted hometown.
I came to Arpoador looking for photographs.
But what I found was a home.