Scorched summit of La Soufrière volcano in background with pyroclastic density current deposit in foreground, May 13, 2021. Photo by Nadia Huggins, used with permission It is closing in on two months since St. Vincent and the Grenadines’ La Soufrière volcano had its first major eruption of the 21st century. In those long weeks since April 9, about 20,000 people have been evacuated from their homes; the ashfall has been so intense that it has posed a risk to both wildlife survival and human health, even in other islands and eruptive activity, the effects of which were worsened by heavy rainfall, has been consistent, causing the country's alert level to remain at red for most of that time. Photographer Nadia Huggins has been there for all of it, from the initial eruption when she went out on a boat to get a (relatively) safe vantage point from which to document the volcano's massive ash column, to the subsequent, ongoing fallout. Her Instagram page powerfully chronicles the island nation's journey in ways that words cannot, telling stories of uncertainty, courage, loss, grief, hope and resilience. In this two-part series, Huggins explains what it meant to her to bear witness, what everyday life has been like under the shadow of La Soufrière (even now, the country is on orange alert), and what she wants her photographs to contribute to the narrative. She spoke with me via a WhatsApp audio call on June 2. Vincentian photographer Nadia Huggins documenting La Soufrière's second explosion on April 9, 2021. Photo by Nick Spencer courtesy Nadia Huggins, used with permission. Janine Mendes-Franco (JMF): Your images are emotive and very powerful, yet they feel more intimate than voyeuristic. Nadia Huggins (NH): I think it boils down to the way you approach the ethics of photography. Especially now, photographers have a responsibility to be considerate about what type of images they put out into the world. It's very easy to photograph a house buried under ash to try and get that gut reaction out of people, but for me, I try to go into the situation asking questions like, ‘If this were my house, how would I feel about somebody photographing and sharing it in this way?’ You really have to think of the intention behind the images. Of course you want people to know that there's all this horrible destruction that's happened, but what do you want [the message to be]? Do people need help? More relief? Long-term assistance? How is it socially impacting people? What is their mental health going to be like afterwards? I try to be very mindful with what I post. JMF: Your photos often focus on details others might miss, like your shot of pumice floating on the water close to Chateaubelair island on the leeward coast. What elements, for you, constitute a good journalistic photo? A post shared by Nadia Huggins (@nadiahuggins) NH: (Laughs) Sometimes I just wing it! I organically respond to what seems interesting. We all have a very particular range of perception of the world and as a photographer, your responsibility is to kind of zoom in or change your perspective ever so slightly when looking at things. Sometimes the most powerful thing that's going on is about eliminating a lot of the other elements around it—and that decision you make is really based on your own perception and what you might think is important, so it's a very personal approach to photography. I didn't even realise ash floated on the water like that, so if I didn't know that then how many other people out there don't know that? JMF: Your photography locates itself at the intersection of photojournalism and art. NH: My practice has always been moving between documentary and conceptual. I'm always trying to question how that fine arts side comes into play, and it's mostly through composition for me, and that's where the perception and perspective also comes into play—what I'm looking at and how I'm looking at it. You still want an element of truth in there; you don't want to completely manipulate what you see to the point where it's unbelievable. People also just want to be pulled in by something that looks different but still feels familiar, and that's always been the roots of my practice: trying to find that universal familiarity in scenes. JMF: At the same time, many of your photos capture the drama of the eruption; your shot showing the contrast between the clouds and the ash plume comes to mind.