I’ve been quietly working on a new book project and, as is usual, once there’s a curated compilation of candidate photographs, I’ll get to work on the layout process by deciding on the cover. I realize that to some, this might seem counterintuitive. But after having produced so many books, it’s become a reliable way for me to get seriously involved in a new project.

After selecting several potential cover designs, I typically ask close family and friends to pick their favorites and if possible, motivate their choice. At this stage, before I am too emotionally invested in a book project, I welcome input with an open mind and heart.

For this book, which documents the four safaris I’ve been incredibly fortunate to experience, I felt trepidation as I chose the cover. As this is a pure photography book, the adage of not judging a book by its cover doesn’t hold up. On the contrary, the cover is going to play a defining role in how well the book performs on a store’s increasingly competitive bookshelf.

Fortunately, my ambivalence vanished once I showed my three finalists to someone with considerably more wit and wisdom than I, who made the final choice feel as obvious as a leopard’s spots – which, incidentally, was one of the alternative cover shots.

If memory serves, this scene was captured when the young rhino (lower right) and I locked eyes. It seemed unintimidated by the jeep I was standing on, nor the long, white camera lens I was wielding.

As my invaluable collaborator (who I’ll assume would prefer to continue enjoying anonymity) pointed out, this could be either innocent curiosity or a brief moment of defiance toward its mother or father, seen further up in the image.

We’ll never know.

That mystery is exactly what made this cover the right choice – unlike the others I had contemplated, which felt far too anticipatory – read: boring.

Now that the cover is set, I have a guiding visual plot that will make the process of narrowing down the book’s compilation of safari imagery much less ambiguous.