About Peter Delaney
Photographer | Poet of Light and Shadow
Guardian of the Wild’s Quiet Stories
In Black and White: Where Africa’s Soul Meets Mine
I’m Peter—an Irishman with a camera, a penchant for empty skies, and a lifelong love affair with Africa’s wild heartbeat.
If you’ve found your way here, you’ll notice my world is painted in monochrome. Not for nostalgia, but because black and white strips life to its raw essence: light, shadow, and the spaces in between.
This is where I find truth—in the curve of a lion’s paw, the tilt of a zebra’s head, or the cracked wisdom of a baobab I call The Ancient One.
Why I Photograph
I’ve never been drawn to crowds—not in life, not in art. My images breathe. They’re minimalist by design, quiet by necessity. Africa taught me that emptiness isn’t a void; it’s a canvas for the soul to rest. When you look at my work, you’ll see no clutter—just room to linger, to imagine, to remember what it’s like to feel small beneath a boundless sky.
I craft fine art prints of African wildlife because these creatures are my quiet confidants. A leopard’s gaze holds more honesty than most human conversations. A giraffe under an acacia tree, stretching its long, graceful neck to reach the juicy leaves—a silhouette against the aftermath of stormy clouds where long grasses dance—mirrors the resilience and elegance we all strive for.
Even when I photograph landscapes—like Namibia’s skeletal trees or savannas that stretch into forever—it’s always in black and white. Colour distracts.
Simplicity reveals.
From Irish Rain to African Sun
“Growing up in Ireland, I learned to write before I learned to shoot—to trace stories in the rain’s rhythm and the fog’s slow unfurling. But it was Africa’s untamed silence that taught me to speak in light.”
The Alchemy of Absence
Minimalism isn’t a style—it’s a philosophy. I carve open spaces into every frame because we’re all drowning in noise. My portraits of elephants? They’re not just about the animal, but the dust swirling around them—the absence that makes their presence sacred. My craft is a dance between discipline and surrender: technical perfection (yes, I’ll geek out over grain and contrast for hours) paired with moments where I let the wild write the story.
This balance is my therapy. Like many, I’ve wrestled with the weight of existing in a world that often feels too heavy. Photography became my anchor. When I’m behind the lens, I’m not fixing anything—not the planet’s pain, not yours, not mine. I’m just bearing witness. And somehow, in that act, healing seeps in.
Art as a Quiet Rebellion
I sell prints, but what I truly want to share is a “pause”. A chance to step out of the rush and into a moment where the only urgency is the flick of a zebra’s tail or the way shadow clings to a leopard walking the great bow of a giant fever tree. Each piece I create—limited, signed, crafted with obsessive care—is a protest against the chaos. It’s my way of saying, “Here, rest. The world will wait.”
“When you hang my work on your wall, you’re not just owning art; you’re carving out a haven of stillness, awakening empathy, and tuning in to the ancient, untamed rhythm of the wild”
Let’s Walk Softly Together
If this resonates, wander through my journal where I untangle the threads of creativity, mental health, and what it means to be a flawed, hopeful human. Or explore my galleries—not as a buyer, but as a kindred spirit.
“And if you ever wonder why I do this? It’s simple: I’m an Irish romantic with an African heart, trying to leave a trail of light in the dark. For my family. For you. For the wild ones who’ve let me borrow their stories.”
P.S. Each print I create is a love letter to the wild spirit that moved me, to the medium that brings it to life, and to the stranger who will one day stand before it and know they are truly seen
Thank you for welcoming my vision into your world!
“If one of these pieces whispers to you, explore my galleries to find your portal—a window to the wild that’s waiting to breathe with you.”
P.S. My limited-edition prints are crafted to last lifetimes—like the stories they hold.