I should start by saying I have generallybeen disappointed by my own work withpolar bears in Svalbard. This is a giant’skingdom, and my images from previoustrips have been too marginal to do eitherthe giants or their kingdom justice. Luckevens itself out, but nature can seemcruel in its distribution of content, andin this barren archipelago, I don’t recallmany favors until June 2017.There is no doubt in my mind that thisphotograph of a big male polar bearlends weight to the contention thatwildlife photography does not have to bereportage—it can be art. The photographis elevated rather than weakened by thenegative space and the bear’s anonymity.Since 2011, I have spent more than 30days shooting in Svalbard, and this is myfavorite image of a polar bear in this partof the Arctic. Indeed, the more I look at it,the prouder I am. As my fellow Scottishphotographer and friend the great HarryBenson once said, “Great images cannever be repeated.” Others will decide ifthis is a great image, but it certainly won’tbe repeated.The distinctive pads on the sole ofhis foot immediately grab the eye.The central pad, which resembles theNike “swoosh,” is the epicenter of aphotograph that owes its differentiatingcontent entirely to this right foot. Theimage is made complete by its own lack ofcompleteness; the storytelling is startedby the camera and finished by the viewer.We are asked to finish the story, not justread it, and the spartan economy of thenarrative helps along the way. Less ismore in the Arctic. Its beauty is in itssimplicity and the enormity of the whitedetail. It conveys a true sense of place.