Beauty and the beast

A storm may be, in a sense, beautiful, as nature displays its raw power. But, for farmers and herdsmen, it is a question of their crops, herds and livelihoods potentially being wiped out.

Liu learned this lesson during one of his trips to Ulaanqab, Inner Mongolia, in 2020. After shooting for about five minutes, he heard a strange sound that was not the wind, rain or thunder. He felt an unknown danger and called to his driver, and the pair clambered into the car just in time. Within seconds, hailstones, about the size of ping-pong balls, started hitting the car's roof. If they had been exposed to them, they would have suffered serious injury.

That night, Liu encountered a herdsman. When he heard that Liu was a storm photographer, he got upset, saying that photographers like Liu should direct their lens toward the damage caused by storms. The herdsman, in tears, told Liu that the hail ruined his harvest.

"It was the first time that I really reflected on the relationship between nature and humans. Although I have read a lot about the damage and injuries caused by thunderstorms in books and reports, they are just figures and numbers, and I couldn't really feel the pain," Liu says.

"Previously I was just purely attracted by the storms-their astonishing beauty-but the herdsman's words made me realize that these things that I love can mean disaster for others," Liu says.