An unexpected encounter with photographer Claire Yaffa

October 18, 2026 — Las Olas Art Festival, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Sometimes life brings the most unexpected people into our path, and often we don’t even realize the significance of the moment until afterward.

Today was one of those days.

I was at my booth at the Las Olas Art Festival, surrounded by my photographs, doing what I love, when a lovely elderly lady stopped by with the person caring for her.

She spent quite some time looking at my work.

We talked a little, and she told me that I was very talented, that my photographs were beautiful, and congratulated me.

Such kind words! We held hands, smiled, and took a photograph together.

It was only because the person accompanying her told me her name that I discovered who my visitor was.

Claire Yaffa.

Naturally, my curiosity got the better of me, and I started reading about her.

And what an extraordinary photographic journey she has had!

Claire began photographing in the 1960s, initially inspired by her young son. What started as a mother’s love for capturing moments eventually grew into a remarkable career in documentary photography.

She worked for The New York Times and the Associated Press, exhibited her photographs internationally, and photographed some of the great masters of photography.

But what fascinated me most wasn’t her impressive career. It was why she photographed.

Early in her journey, the legendary photographer Cornell Capa asked her a simple but powerful question:

“You take pretty pictures Yaffa, what do you want to say?”

That question changed the direction of her photography.

Claire went on to document people whose stories were often overlooked—disadvantaged children, struggling families, the homeless, Holocaust survivors, and people facing extraordinary difficulties.

She used her camera not simply to record what she saw, but to make people feel, understand, and hopefully care.

And that is where I found myself connecting with her story.

Our subjects and our journeys are very different, of course.

Claire’s lens turned toward the human condition, while mine has increasingly turned toward the natural world.

My camera has taken me into forests, mountains, rivers, wild places, and some pretty uncomfortable situations! I’ve chased light across the country, stood in freezing darkness waiting for the sky to come alive, and spent countless hours hoping for just a few seconds of magic.

And somewhere along the way, photography became more than creating beautiful images for me, too.

Whether I’m photographing wild horses, Florida’s manatees, black bears, or the fragile beauty of our natural landscapes, I want people to feel something.

To see the beauty. To recognize its value. To care enough to protect it.

Perhaps that’s something photography teaches us over time.

A beautiful photograph can make someone stop and look. A meaningful photograph can stay with them long after they’ve walked away.

And here we were today.

Two women with cameras in their life stories, from different generations, different experiences, and different photographic worlds.

Her journey began long before mine. She photographed history, humanity, and some of photography’s most influential artists.

Mine continues through nature, wildlife, conservation, and the endless pursuit of light.

For a brief moment, those two journeys crossed in a little art festival booth in Fort Lauderdale.

No grand introduction. No formal conversation about photography’s history. Just a few kind words, a smile, hands held together, and a photograph.

I find that rather wonderful.

I don’t know what Claire saw in my photographs that spoke to her, but I am grateful she took the time to look and to share her encouragement.

After learning about her life, those few words mean even more.

And perhaps the nicest part is that I didn’t know who she was when she said them.

It was simply one photographer appreciating another photographer’s work.

Thank you, Claire Yaffa, for stopping by today, for your kindness, and for reminding me that no matter how many years separate our journeys, the language of photography remains wonderfully timeless.

Our meeting was brief, but the memory will stay with me.

And isn’t that exactly what photography is all about?

Capturing a moment that otherwise would have quietly disappeared.

❤️📷

Zsuzsanna Luciano
The Art of Conservation