-
All photos in this series were taken between 2010 and 2012. A giant Buddha's face in a coal yard, Ningxia province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A man pumping water from the river, Ningxia province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Fishermen wading in the river, Shaanxi province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A building immersed in the river, Gansu province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Landscape painting on a wall, Gansu province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Young people gathered around a fire by the river, Gansu province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Overturned cement truck, Qinghai province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Locals hold a portrait of Mao as they swim across the river, Henan province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A man doing his morning exercises under the bridge, Ningxia province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
View of the Yellow River from a window in a construction site.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Sculpture of small white deer in front of a cooling tower, Inner Mongolia.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A slag heap, Inner Mongolia.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A family having fun under the bridge, Shandong province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A worker in a construction site of the riverbank, Ningxia province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
A rockery in the bed of a dried up river, Shandong province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
People playing in the riverbed, Shandong province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Workers climbing a billboard, Qingha province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
People living in an iron pipe, Shaanxi province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
-
Wetlands burning, Shaanxi province.Zhang Kechun / MoST
As a boy, he read about the mythic river. As a man, he went to find its source. Chengdu-based photographer Zhang Kechun has spent much of the last two years on the banks the Yellow River, the waterway considered both the cradle of Chinese civilization and, when it breaks its banks, its curse. “I wanted to photograph the river respectfully,” said Zhang. “It represents the root of the nation.”
Zhang’s project has the feel of a pilgrimage. He travels on a fold-up bicycle, following the river’s silted water from the coastal flats of Shandong, west, to the mountains of Qinghai. He journeys for a month at a time, lugging a large format Linhof camera, a tripod and just enough film. Sometimes, he says, he went a week without taking a picture. “I wanted to take my time,” he said, “to slow down and experience every second of the moment.”
His patient labor paid off. The work is intimate and expansive, capturing quiet moments under vast, gray skies. People swim. Buildings rise. Life plays out against a dateless haze. “I choose cloudy, gloomy days to photograph and I overexpose my photos,” Zhang explained. This, he said, “adds a soft and gentle touch,” giving each frame an otherworldly feel. This ethereal stillness quiets the quotidian realities of the river: movement, pollution, noise.
Zhang says he did not set out to document environmental destruction — others have done that. But China’s headlong rush to develop has scarred the country’s land, air and water, and the mighty Yellow River is no exception. “I started off wanting to photograph my ideal of the river, but I kept running into pollution,” he said. “I realized that I couldn’t run away from it, and that I didn’t need to run away from it.”
Though the lunar tones and low horizons feel foreboding, Zhang insists the project carries a message of hope. There is a reason all the people in his pictures look tiny: “The power of humans is nothing compared to the power of nature, even when we try to change it.” Century upon century, the river runs.
Zhang Kechun is a Chengdu-based photographer with the MoST agency.
Emily Rauhala is an Associate Editor at TIME. Additional reporting and translation from Regina Wang.
- Here's What's in the Debt Ceiling Deal
- How Worried Should the World Be of China's New COVID Wave?
- Succession Was a Race to the Bottom, And Everybody Won
- What Erdoğan’s Victory Means for Turkey—and the World
- The Ancient Roots of Psychotherapy
- How Drag Culture Inspired Ursula
- Drought Crisis Spurs U.S.-Mexico Collaboration
- Florence Pugh Might Just Save the Movie Star From Extinction