Photographer Frank Relle recalls being nine years old when he would sneak out of his New Orleans home to witness the sunrise, an event he found difficult to convey to others despite wanting to share it. Years later, he discovered photography, reflecting on this journey through an excerpt from Albert Camus’s essay “Between Yes and No”: “A man’s work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.”
Relle notes, “The swamp was that opening for me. I do not fully understand how. I went in once, and something happened; I changed, and then I kept going back.” Based in New Orleans, he often visits the Louisiana swamps, where bald cypress trees draped in Spanish moss stand sentinel. Paddling through the tranquil waters, he captures the transition between day and night, accompanied by the sounds of the wildlife inhabiting the area.

“I work in the swamp because it returns me to a way of being that feels older, quieter, and more true,” Relle shares with Colossal, elaborating:
Amidst the trees, insects, birds, reflections, and dark water, I escape the noise of my mind. The swamp draws me out of isolation and reconnects me to the broader living world. In that state, I feel wonder, connection, and freedom. Photography became my way of sharing that feeling—not by explaining it but by inviting others into it.
Relle’s series Until the Water delves into the mystical bayous of Louisiana with a serene reverence. He uses lights under boughs and trunks to highlight the trees against the darkening skies, showcasing their forms within the vast wetlands unique to North America’s Gulf Coast.
Relle’s photographs capture the passage of time, yet seem to suspend it, depicting mature cypresses that have withstood centuries. (The oldest living tree in eastern North America, a bald cypress in North Carolina, is over 2,600 years old.) Some trees are lush and full, while others appear bare, struggling, or damaged.

“The swamp at two in the morning is not quiet; it is one of the loudest places I have ever been,” Relle remarks. “But a photograph of it is silent. And in that silence, there is an opening. A threshold…That is what I wanted when I was small, watching the sky change. Not to describe it. To bring someone else to the edge of it. To share it without words.”
Discover more about Relle’s work on his Instagram, and purchase prints from his online shop. If you’re in New Orleans, visit his gallery on Royal Street.






