Preservation: Michele Curel’s Transition from Portraits to Forests
Michele was born and raised in New York City, where her Argentinian parents both worked and nurtured her love for exploration and discovery. Her father owned a travel agency in the heart of the city, while her mother pursued groundbreaking work as a research biochemist at Mount Sinai Hospital. Their shared passion for travel became a cornerstone of her family life. From an early age, she was fortunate to accompany them on extraordinary adventures, including a remarkable journey by car from Alaska to Patagonia.
In the 1970s, the family moved to Europe, first to Barcelona and later to Paris. During her time in Paris, she attended the Ecole Active Bilingue, refining the French she had been learning since childhood, thanks to her French ancestry. These formative years abroad deepened her cultural awareness and appreciation for diverse perspectives.
Barcelona eventually became home, and it was there that she studied journalism and developed a profound love for architecture—a passion that continues to inspire her creative vision. In the 1980s, she returned to New York City, where she began her professional journey in photography. Starting as an assistant to several renowned photographers, she gained invaluable experience and gradually established herself in the editorial world. Her work focused primarily on portraiture, with additional assignments in travel and interiors, and she was fortunate to collaborate with some of the most respected photo editors in the industry.
In the 1990s, she returned to Barcelona, which remains her base and the location of her extensive photographic archive. From Barcelona, she has worked with many of the world’s most prestigious publications, while continuing to travel extensively for assignments. Her projects have taken her across Europe, the United States, Africa, and the Middle East, often focusing on capturing the essence of luxurious hotels and spas, as well as unique cultural and geographical landscapes.
In recent years, after serving as President of the AFPE (Asociación de Fotógrafos Profesionales de España), her interests have evolved toward creating multimedia projects that address critical issues. These include sustainable forest management, women’s empowerment, and the challenges of drought—subjects that bridge the urban-rural divide and resonate deeply with her personal experiences. Her role as a forest landowner and manager of a cork forest has provided a unique perspective and purpose, allowing her to combine environmental stewardship with storytelling to inspire awareness and action.
HM: It would be great to learn more about your journey. How did you end up in Spain, and what led you to this unique intersection of journalism, photography, and now forestry?
MC: Oh, my story is a bit of a winding road! It all started when I was 13 years old. My mom decided to move to Spain, and, being a teenager, I didn’t have much of a say in the matter. But looking back, I’m forever grateful for her decision. We moved to Spain, and I ended up attending an American high school here before continuing with journalism studies in college.
During my college years, I explored everything—photography, radio, writing—you name it. I particularly loved radio, but the idea of relying on a company didn’t appeal to me. I wanted the freedom to freelance, which eventually led me back to New York after finishing my degree.
Once in New York, I focused on developing my skills as a photographer. I assisted around 20–30 different photographers, covering everything from still life to fashion, architecture, and portraiture. This hands-on experience was invaluable, and it wasn’t long before I started taking on small assignments for trade magazines, museums, and publications like Adweek.
HM: How did your connection with Spanish publications like El País come about?
MC: It’s quite a fun story! In the 1980s, I decided to write directly to the director of El País. I basically said, “Hi, I’m a photographer in New York—if you ever need anything, let me know!” It might sound bold, but it worked. That initial connection opened doors to working with El País and other Spanish publications.
By the early ’90s, I was constantly traveling back and forth between New York and Spain. The Olympics in Barcelona in 1992 were a turning point. I realized there would be a huge influx of international media attention, and I positioned myself as a resource for American magazines and newspapers.
HM: So, your first assignment for The New York Times coincided with the Olympics?
MC: Exactly! My first job with The New York Times happened just a week before the Olympics kicked off. They didn’t assign me sports photography—thankfully, as I’m not a sports photographer—but rather cultural and local stories. It was perfect for me.
At the time, Barcelona was a bit of a mystery to most Americans, and international outlets like The New York Times, Newsweek, Vanity Fair, Forbes, and Business Week needed photographers who understood both the city and their editorial requirements. I spoke the language, knew the culture, and could interpret what New York editors needed quickly. That made me a go-to person for many assignments during that period.
HM: That blend of cultural and editorial fluency must have been invaluable. How did your career evolve from there?
MC: After a few years of constant back-and-forth between New York and Spain, I decided to settle permanently in Spain. Around that time, I also transitioned into a new chapter of my life.
In the late ’90s, my partner and I started renting a farmhouse in a beautiful forested area near the Costa Brava. Initially, it was just a rental—a place to relax. But in 2012, after 20 years, the owner offered to sell it to us. We decided to buy it, and suddenly, we found ourselves the proud owners of not just the house but also 160 acres of land, all being mainly a cork forest!
HM: That’s quite a leap from photography to land management. How did you approach this new responsibility?
MC: It was a steep learning curve, to say the least! Neither of us had any background in forestry or agriculture, but we’re responsible people, and we knew we had to take care of the land. I drew on my journalistic instincts—research, research, research.
I attended forestry conferences, workshops, and even volunteered at a forest congress to absorb as much information as possible. With guidance from the Forest Landowners Association, we began managing the land and harvesting cork. They helped us navigate grant applications, assemble a crew, and ensure we did everything sustainably.
HM: From photography to forestry, your journey is a testament to adaptability and curiosity. How does this new chapter feel in comparison to your previous career?
MC: It’s been an incredible evolution. Photography and journalism taught me to observe, connect, and tell stories, and those skills have been invaluable in this new chapter. Caring for the forest is a deeply rewarding challenge—it’s about stewardship, sustainability, and leaving something meaningful for future generations.
HM: Let’s start with the cork harvesting—it sounds like such a fascinating process with deep historical roots. Can you explain how it works and what makes it so unique?
MC: Absolutely. Cork harvesting is an ancient practice, and it’s fascinating. Here in Catalonia, you can only harvest cork from a tree every 14 years. It’s all about timing—harvesting too early won’t yield good-quality cork. When we bought our property, the previous owner had only harvested once every 14 years because they owned massive amounts of land. That allowed them to do a big harvest periodically, which is efficient on a larger scale.
The first time I saw the cork harvest on our property, I was mesmerized. It’s not something most people think about, but it’s been happening for thousands of years. When I started talking to friends, even educated ones, they were surprised to learn about it. That inspired me to start a photography project to raise awareness. I’m not a writer, but as a photographer, I knew I could tell this story visually and hopefully draw attention to its significance.
HM: What did you uncover about cork harvesting through your photography project?
MC: Oh, so much! Cork harvesting isn’t just about the material itself—it’s also about the people, the forests, and the environment. It turns out cork harvesting is incredibly beneficial on multiple levels.
First, cork trees absorb significant amounts of CO2, which makes them an asset in the fight against climate change. By harvesting the cork, you give landowners a reason to maintain their forests. This helps prevent forest abandonment, reduces wildfire risks, improves biodiversity, and ensures the trees are healthy. When forests are neglected, the opposite happens—they become overgrown, dry out, and are more prone to devastating fires.
HM: That’s fascinating. So it’s not just about economics but also ecological sustainability?
MC: Exactly. It’s a win-win situation. Cork harvesting provides income for local workers and helps maintain the forests, which in turn benefits the entire ecosystem. Healthy forests mean less water stress for trees, better habitats for wildlife, and more carbon sequestration. It’s a climate solution hiding in plain sight!
HM: You mentioned working with 13 different crews across Girona for your project. What was that like?
MC: It was an incredible experience. Cork harvesting only happens in the summer, during the hottest and most humid days, because that’s when the cork comes off the trees most easily. I would meet the crews at 5 a.m., often on some dirt road or at the edge of a forest. Then we’d drive to the day’s site and get to work.
The workdays are grueling but fascinating. The harvesters start early, take a short break around 10 a.m. for breakfast in the forest, and wrap up by midday because the heat becomes unbearable. I learned so much from them—their techniques, the care they take to avoid damaging the trees, and the traditions they’ve preserved over generations.
One thing that really stood out to me was how sensitive the cork trees are. For instance, if there’s thunder in the distance, within 15 minutes the cork becomes much harder to extract. A professional harvester will recognize this and stop for the day to avoid damaging the tree.
HM: That’s such a delicate balance. Are most of the harvesters highly experienced?
MC: Many of them are, yes. Even though a single tree is harvested only once every 14 years, harvesters have work every summer because they move between different properties. On our property, I harvest small sections each year, rotating through the forest to maintain sustainability.
Here in Catalonia, cork harvesting used to be a thriving industry, but it dwindled after World War II due to various factors—trade restrictions, industrial changes, and urbanization. As a result, many forests were abandoned, and about half of Catalonia’s cork forests remain neglected today.
HM: Why do you think more people aren’t engaging in cork harvesting, given its potential benefits?
MC: There are several reasons. First, people have become disconnected from the forests, even those living in nearby towns. They don’t have the knowledge or experience anymore. Second, until recently, cork wasn’t very profitable. Now, prices are improving, but for years it wasn’t enough to cover costs, let alone make a profit.
There’s also a cultural shift—most people live in cities and have romanticized notions of forests as places for leisure. They don’t see them as working ecosystems that require care and maintenance. For us, even when we’re not harvesting, we’re constantly maintaining our property—clearing brush, repairing roads, and ensuring the forest remains healthy.
HM: You’ve clearly immersed yourself in this world. What inspired you to take it so seriously?
MC: My inspiration comes from forest researchers and scientists. They’ve dedicated their lives to understanding and preserving these ecosystems, and their passion is contagious. They provided me with the facts and statistics, but also the bigger picture of what’s at stake.
I realized that by sharing this story, I could play a small role in bringing attention to an overlooked but vital practice. My photography became a way to bridge the gap between the science and the public, showing the beauty and importance of cork harvesting.
HM: Your project sounds like it’s about much more than cork—it’s about sustainability, tradition, and our connection to the environment.
MC: Exactly. It’s about seeing forests not just as picturesque landscapes but as dynamic, working systems that need our care. And cork, this seemingly simple material, is a thread that ties it all together.
HM: It sounds like the dynamics of managing a forest are incredibly diverse and complex. Can you tell us more about your forest and how it compares to others in the region?
MC: Absolutely. My property is relatively small compared to some of the massive estates around here. We have about 160 acres, and it's all cork trees—cork, cork, and more cork. On larger properties, like my neighbor’s, who has about 1,000 hectares (that’s around 2,400 acres), it’s a completely different story. They have a mix of trees—cork, pine, eucalyptus—and can do different things with them, like harvesting for different purposes.
Our cork trees are native to this Mediterranean region, and they’ve been here for thousands of years. Before the Ice Age, cork trees, or Quercus suber, covered millions of acres. While many species didn’t survive the Ice Age, cork trees managed to adapt and thrive, although on a smaller scale.
HM: That resilience is amazing. Do you plant new cork trees, or do they grow naturally?
MC: They grow naturally here. Cork trees are incredible—they regenerate themselves. The acorns fall to the ground, and if you leave them undisturbed, sooner or later, one of them will take root. It’s a self-sustaining cycle.
In some areas, people do plant cork trees to establish new forests, but we haven’t needed to. Our property is part of a larger forest mass—about 28,000 hectares, or roughly 50,000 acres. It’s like its own ecosystem, with cork trees regenerating naturally and sustaining the biodiversity around them.
HM: Speaking of biodiversity, I imagine a forest that size has its challenges. You mentioned wild boars earlier—how do they fit into the picture?
MC: Wild boars are a big part of life here, for better or worse. This past winter, there was actually a “wild boar emergency alert” in our forest region. They calculated there were around 13 wild boars per square kilometer, which is an incredibly high density.
While they can be a nuisance, they also play a role in the ecosystem. They forage and clean up some of the underbrush, which helps reduce the risk of forest fires. But their numbers need to be managed, or they can cause serious damage to the forest and surrounding areas.
HM: How do you manage such a large wild boar population?
MC: I don’t hunt them myself, but when we bought the property, it came with an agreement involving a local hunting group. In Spain, there are these hunting preserves called cotos de caza. On smaller properties like mine, several landowners can agree to designate a combined area for the local hunters to use as a preserve.
Since the wild boar emergency, the government has allowed hunters to take more boars to help control the population. It’s a bit ironic—hunters often have a bad reputation as being destructive or unnecessary, but now they’re seen as heroes because they’re helping to address this issue.
HM: It’s fascinating how interconnected everything is—the cork trees, the wildlife, the hunters, and the ecosystem as a whole. Does managing the forest ever feel overwhelming?
MC: It can, but it’s also incredibly rewarding. Everything in the forest is interconnected, and managing it requires a balance of care, knowledge, and effort. Whether it’s the cork trees regenerating themselves, fire prevention work, clearing the underbrush. For me, it’s about stewardship—ensuring that the forest remains healthy and sustainable, not just for now but for future generations. It’s a responsibility, but it’s also a privilege.
HM: Wild boars aren’t new to Spain, though, are they?
MC: No, not at all. They’ve been part of this region for centuries. But, like many things connected to rural life, they’ve been somewhat forgotten. Starting in the 1960s, many people moved to cities, leaving behind their rural roots. There was even a sense of denial—people didn’t want to be associated with the countryside. Now, we’re seeing a slow shift, but the disconnect between urban and rural life remains significant.
HM: Do you think that disconnection is one of the reasons forestry jobs aren’t more popular?
MC: Definitely. Many people in cities struggle to make ends meet, working long hours in cramped offices for low pay. In Spain, we have a term for this—mileuristas—people who earn about 1,000 euros a month.
What’s interesting is that some of these people might actually prefer working outdoors, even for the same pay. Forestry work isn’t for everyone—you need to enjoy being in nature and working with your hands—but I think there’s untapped potential.
HM: How do you encourage more people to explore forestry work?
MC: Awareness is key. That’s why, since 2018, I’ve dedicated myself to projects that highlight and raise awareness about forestry. My goal is to illustrate the importance of this world, at least here in Catalonia, and ideally across Europe.
HM: Tell me more about these projects. What have you been working on, and what’s next?
MC: I started with a project on cork harvesting here in Catalonia. It was an incredible journey—I documented everything over multiple summers, capturing the people, the process, and the cultural significance of this ancient practice. The work was exhibited at the Cork Museum, which was a proud moment for me.
After completing that project, I started thinking about what’s next. One idea is to expand my cork project to the seven countries where cork harvesting is practiced: Portugal, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Italy, France, and Spain. Each country has its own unique traditions and challenges when it comes to cork harvesting, and I think exploring those stories would be fascinating.
Another idea is to look at forestry practices across Europe. For example, countries like Sweden and Finland are heavily forested but face issues like clear-cutting, which has significant environmental implications. Learning about their approaches and comparing them to Mediterranean forestry could be incredibly insightful.
HM: That sounds ambitious. What about the effects of war on forests—didn’t you mention that as another potential project?
MC: Yes, that’s another area I’m curious about. Wars have long-term impacts on forests that often go unnoticed. For example, the cork industry here in Spain suffered greatly during World War II because trade routes were disrupted. And in places like Ukraine, where war is ongoing, we may not see the full environmental impact for decades. Forests operate on a different rhythm; changes unfold slowly over time, which makes them fascinating but also challenging to document.
HM: It seems like your work is about more than just forestry—it’s about bridging the gap between nature and modern society.
MC: Exactly. I see my role as a storyteller, using photography to connect people with the natural world and the challenges it faces. Whether it’s cork harvesting, wild boars, or the broader context of European forestry, my aim is to spark curiosity and inspire people to care about these incredible ecosystems.