By James Calloway

Jonathan and Angela Scott, Marsel van Oosten, Frans Lanting and Greg du Toit have all donated images to Remembering Giraffes, the newest volume in the Remembering Wildlife series and a book built entirely around the world's tallest mammal. Every picture in the collection came to the project as a donation, which tells practitioners most of what they need to know about how this kind of publishing model works: no commissions, no licensing fees, one shared beneficiary.

What does the book actually contain?

The series' signature promotional image splits into two halves. On the left, a giraffe stands silhouetted against an oversized setting sun; on the right, an adult and a young giraffe fill the frame in close-up. That pairing signals the range the editors asked for — graphic minimalism on one end, intimate behavioural portraiture on the other.

The contributing roster reads like a shortlist of the genre's established names. Jonathan and Angela Scott built their reputation in Kenya's Maasai Mara. Marsel van Oosten and Frans Lanting have each shaped two decades of wildlife photography's visual language. Greg du Toit belongs to the same tier of long-form African work.

For working photographers, the model matters as much as the pictures. Donation-based anthologies give contributors a conservation credit line and a place alongside peers, while the publisher keeps production costs low enough that proceeds can flow to field conservation. That trade — image rights for reach and cause — is one each photographer weighs on their own terms.

Why giraffes, and why a series?

Remembering Wildlife has made a practice of dedicating full volumes to single species, and Remembering Giraffes extends that logic. The giraffe occupies an odd position in wildlife photography: ubiquitous in tourist portfolios, underrepresented in serious, sustained bodies of work. A single-species book forces photographers past the silhouette cliché the genre leans on.

The donated collection argues that the subject rewards closer attention. The sunset silhouette and the mother-and-young pairing are, on their face, familiar compositions. Assembled at book length, however, they sit within a wider sequence that presses readers to look at the animal as an individual rather than a backdrop.

What changes for photographers who follow the series?

The series functions as an informal benchmark. Photographers who track its pages can see which compositions the editors selected from dozens of submissions by the field's best-known practitioners — useful evidence of where editorial taste in wildlife photography currently sits.

It also confirms a structural trend: conservation publishing increasingly runs on donated imagery rather than commissioned work. Photographers considering a similar contribution should read the series' earlier volumes to judge whether their own portfolios match the edit's visual standard.

Remembering Giraffes continues a series that has already proven the donation model can sustain itself across multiple titles. Whether it can shift the giraffe from photographic wallpaper to a subject treated with the seriousness given to elephants and lions is the test this volume now faces in readers' hands.