Photographing the Forbidden: Capturing Turkmenistan's Surreal Landscapes and Architecture

The ancient ruins of Merv sprawl across the landscape like the skeleton of a fallen giant. Once one of the world's largest cities, today it's a UNESCO World Heritage site that photographers dream of but few actually visit. I arrived at sunrise, when the low golden light casts dramatic shadows across the mud-brick structures.

The key to photographing Merv is patience and perspective. While the vastness is overwhelming, I found the most compelling images came from isolating architectural elements against the desert backdrop. The 12th-century mausoleum of Sultan Sanjar provides the most iconic silhouette, but don't overlook the subtle textures of the eroding walls, where centuries of history are written in layers of earth.

I spent three hours with my Sony Alpha a7 III and 16-35mm wide-angle lens, switching occasionally to my 70-200mm to compress the distant ruins against the Karakum Desert. The morning light here is transformative—by 9am, the harsh overhead sun flattens the scene entirely.

Our guide Azat arranged special photography permissions in advance (crucial in Turkmenistan), allowing me access to areas typically restricted. Even with permissions, I recommend keeping a low profile with your equipment. The camera backpack I brought was perfect—understated yet offering quick access when those fleeting light moments appeared.

Nothing quite prepares you for your first glimpse of the Darvaza Gas Crater. This 70-meter wide burning pit in the middle of the Karakum Desert has been continuously aflame for over 50 years, creating what locals call the 'Gates of Hell.' As a photographer, it presents one of the most unique night shooting opportunities I've ever encountered.

We arrived in late afternoon to set up camp at a luxury yurt complex arranged by our tour operator. This allowed me to scout compositions before sunset and plan my night shots. The crater photographs completely differently depending on the time of day—at sunset, the flames compete with the golden hour light; by true night, they dominate the landscape with an otherworldly glow.

Technically speaking, this location demands specific gear. My carbon fiber tripod was essential for the long exposures, while heat waves rising from the crater created interesting distortion effects at certain angles. I shot primarily with my 24mm f/1.4 prime lens, which excels in low-light conditions.

The real magic happens about an hour after sunset when the sky reaches that deep blue twilight state. I used exposures between 15-30 seconds at ISO 800, stopping down to f/5.6 for adequate depth of field. The contrast between the fiery orange crater and the cool blue desert night creates a natural complementary color palette that needs minimal post-processing.

A word of caution: the heat is intense, and wind direction changes can suddenly engulf you in hot gas. Keep your gear protected, and never venture too close to the edge without a guide present. Our Turkmen guides knew precisely where to stand for both safety and optimal compositions.

Ashgabat holds the Guinness World Record for the highest concentration of white marble buildings anywhere on Earth. Approaching the city after days in the desert feels like entering a surrealist painting—gleaming structures rise from the landscape in architectural styles that blend Soviet monumentalism with futuristic fantasy.

Photographing Ashgabat presents unique challenges. First, there are strict regulations about what you can and cannot photograph. Government buildings, security installations, and even some public squares may be off-limits. Our guide was invaluable here, securing permits and advising on safe shooting locations. When in doubt, always ask before raising your camera.

The white marble creates extreme dynamic range challenges, especially under the harsh Turkmen sun. I found early morning (6-8am) and late afternoon (5-7pm) provided the most manageable light. During these golden hours, the marble takes on a warm glow that softens its otherwise clinical appearance.

For architectural work here, I primarily used my tilt-shift lens to control perspective and minimize distortion on the towering structures. If you don't have a tilt-shift, any wide-angle lens with good distortion control will work—just be prepared to correct verticals in post-processing.

The Wedding Palace (Bagt Köşgi) and the Arch of Neutrality offer some of the most photogenic and officially sanctioned photo opportunities. The Independence Park with its monuments and fountains is also photographer-friendly, particularly at night when illuminated.

'Kuch samay ke liye, main bhool gaya tha ki main dharti par hoon'—for a moment, I forgot I was on Earth. This Hindi phrase from my father came to mind as I photographed the otherworldly architecture against perfectly manicured (and often empty) boulevards. The city feels like a life-sized architectural model, pristine and surreal.

Beyond landscapes and architecture lies the heart of any travel photography—the people. Turkmenistan presents a fascinating cultural mosaic, though photographing locals requires sensitivity and respect.

Traditional markets like Tolkuchka Bazaar outside Ashgabat offer rich visual narratives. The carpet sellers, with their intricate Turkmen designs, make for compelling portraits when approached with respect. I always begin by purchasing something small—dried fruits or tea—before asking permission to photograph. A few words in Turkmen go a long way: 'Suratga düşürmäge rugsat bermek' (May I take a photo?) often results in genuine smiles and natural poses.

For cultural events, our luxury tour arranged private access to a folk performance where traditional music and dance were demonstrated. Here, my prime lens proved invaluable for capturing expressive moments without intrusive flash. The shallow depth of field isolated performers against the ornate backgrounds of traditional Turkmen interiors.

Rural areas outside Mary and Ashgabat provided glimpses into traditional life largely unchanged for centuries. Horse culture remains strong among Turkmen people, and the legendary Akhal-Teke horses with their metallic coats make for extraordinary subjects. We visited a breeding farm where I focused on capturing the unique bond between trainers and these animals.

When photographing people, I've learned to work quickly but never rush. My approach combines technical preparation (exposure and focus preset) with genuine human connection. Often, I'll show people their images on my camera's LCD, which typically leads to more relaxed subsequent shots.

As a person of mixed heritage myself, I'm acutely aware of the responsibility that comes with photographing across cultural boundaries. I strive to create images that honor the dignity and agency of my subjects rather than exotic caricatures. The most successful cultural photographs emerge from moments of genuine exchange, however brief.

Photographing Turkmenistan demands both technical preparation and diplomatic finesse. Let me break down the essential considerations that made my two-week expedition successful.

First, gear selection: Turkmenistan's varied environments require versatility. My core kit included a full-frame mirrorless body, 16-35mm wide-angle zoom, 24-70mm standard zoom, 70-200mm telephoto, and a 50mm f/1.4 prime for low light. This covered everything from vast landscapes to detailed architectural work and portraits.

Dust protection is non-negotiable in the desert regions. I used the weather-sealed camera bag which proved invaluable during sudden sandstorms near Darvaza. Carry multiple microfiber cloths and a rocket blower for sensor cleaning—the fine desert dust gets everywhere.

Power access can be inconsistent outside major cities. I traveled with six camera batteries and a solar charger for emergencies. Our luxury accommodations generally had reliable electricity, but during desert camping, power management became critical.

Regarding permissions: Turkmenistan requires photography permits for professional equipment. Our tour operator arranged these in advance, specifying each location we planned to photograph. Carry these documents with you at all times. Even with permits, certain subjects remain restricted—military installations, bridges, tunnels, airports, and some government buildings.

Drones are particularly problematic. While technically possible to secure drone permits, the process is lengthy and often unsuccessful. I chose to leave my drone at home rather than risk confiscation.

Internet access is limited and monitored. I backed up images to portable hard drives rather than cloud services. For editing, I used my laptop with a calibrated portable monitor to process select images during the journey, saving comprehensive editing for my return to Osaka.

My engineering background has taught me to build redundancy into systems, and photography is no exception. Every critical component had a backup, from camera bodies to storage media. This preparation allowed me to focus on the creative aspects of photography without technical anxieties.