When photographer and filmmaker Stephanie Pommez began a photography project twenty years ago traveling back and forth from NYC to the Amazon to document the lives of river-dwelling communities, she may not have known how timely her images would be in 2025.
Over a period of 3 years, Stephanie narrowed her focus on traditional midwives of the river-dwelling community, also known as Ribereinhos living along the banks of the Amazon, and her work was eventually featured in National Geographic. Today, the project can be seen in a new photography book called The Enchanted Ones, out now from publisher Kehrer Verlag.
With the current discourse around birth culture, reproductive rights, and motherhood in the U.S. showing glaring gaps in institutional support and policies, and a general feeling of abandonment felt by many American mothers, perhaps it is the perfect opportunity to look outside of our system and learn from other cultures and traditions in the way they support mothers and babies.
There is a lot to be gleaned from the stories and wisdom Stephanie presents in how the traditional midwives value and approach the life-giving work they do in their communities that is not dependent on a capitalistic system such as the U.S., where money and profit are the motivating factor.
Shot entirely on 35mm black-and-white film, her documentary work reveals the mystical state of a unique confluence of indigenous, Portuguese and African cultures whose lives are shaped by water and forest. They live in a watery world deeply connected to nature and a culture of myths that blurs the lines between truth, reality and time.
Stephanie’s photographs deliver a lyrical portrait of the midwives who not only deliver life, but also are the keepers and weavers of the myths that help to sustain the delicate balance of life.
The photographs evoke a sense of mystery and tradition. Stephanie uses overlays from archival images to suggest the coexistence of multiple realities. Transparent paper in the book creates a ghostly effect, allowing the images to hover between worlds. A photograph of a midwife standing in a doorway suggests her role as both healer and spiritual guide. Another image shows a snake over the river, referencing the Cobra Grande, a mythical serpent that emerges to transform or destroy.
The Enchanted Ones is more than a visual journey. It is a tribute to the stories passed down through generations, preserving a fragile cultural heritage. This book moves beyond documentary into the realm of the imaginary, capturing a world where the seen and unseen coexist. Scroll below to see some of the stunning images, and read what Stephanie shared with us about the origins of the project, immersing herself in the Ribereinho community, and the message she hopes her work evokes among the current conversations about reproduction and motherhood in the United States.
When did you begin working on The Enchanted Ones, and how long did it take to complete?
Thank you very much for the opportunity to share my story and talk about my latest book, The Enchanted Ones. The roots of this project go back about twenty years. Over the course of four years, I traveled regularly to the Amazon, balancing freelance work in New York that allowed me to return for extended stays. Each trip was devoted to photographing the Ribeirinhos, river-dwelling communities whose lives are deeply intertwined with the forest and waterways. I moved across different regions, documenting everyday life and focusing particularly on the work of traditional midwives.
The Amazon itself is vast (a little more than half the size of the US), and while much has been written about its biodiversity, I was drawn to its cultural diversity. Among them are the Ribeirinhos, whose homes are sometimes located along the rivers and tributaries (igarapes), sometimes in small villages, and other times in larger towns. Their homes are simple, often one or two rooms, where hammocks are brought out at night and hung along the walls during the day.
Their traditions draw from Indigenous, Afro-Brazilian, and Portuguese roots, with the river serving as the lifeline of both economy and culture. Growing up in Brazil, I often heard of the Ribeirinhos, but often in the context of men, and particularly environmental activists and heroes such as Chico Mendes (a well-known activist assassinated by a cattle rancher, he became a global symbol of rainforest conservation). I was curious to know who the women were.
The project began with a broad scope, and I focused on the midwives as it evolved. They were more than caregivers, they were cultural anchors, bridging homes and villages, carrying knowledge of medicine, and attending births. And while they brought new life into the world, they also kept alive another layer of existence through their storytelling. Many of their tales were about the encantados, mythical beings said to dwell in rivers or forests, able to transform into human shape and interact with people.
The journey became a twofold project. The first, Traditional Midwives of the Amazon, was shown at Visa Pour l’Image and widely divulgated at the time. The second, my current book, The Enchanted Ones, extends the work into the realm where documentary and myth coexist. In this book, the Amazon is not just a physical landscape- it is also a space where time is nonlinear, where different realities overlap, and where myths speak to the deep interconnection of all things within the web of life, here, the Amazonian forest.
What were some of the most fascinating or eye-opening things you captured and learned from the midwives, that you want audiences elsewhere in the world to see?
One of the most profound lessons I learned from the midwives was their extraordinary sensitivity and deep knowledge of the body. They had a remarkable ability to find creative solutions in the most critical situations, often standing at the threshold between life and death. One midwife once told me she had “eyes on her fingertips”, a beautiful way to describe their skill.
Beyond the act of birth itself, there were intimate rituals such as the “closing of the body” through gestures and massages, or the saving of a dried piece of umbilical cord to be used later as medicine, and countless postpartum “dos and don’ts“ passed down (when to bathe, what to eat, etc…). I found it deeply moving to see the midwives step into a maternal role themselves. Often called “mãe velha” or “old mother”, they will spend a few days at the house, cooking certain foods, nurturing the new mother, and caring for the newborn.
Their courage is extraordinary. These women will set out at any hour, day or night, walking through sheets of rain or under punishing heat to reach someone in need. And yet, what struck me most was not only their bravery but their generosity and grace toward me as a solitary traveler, and even more so toward one another, despite the immense challenges they face. Life in the Amazon is far from easy. Many families survive on seasonal work, government support is scarce, and violence is not uncommon. Still, there is a quiet strength, an everyday dignity, in the way they move through it all.
Spending time with them also taught me just how much communities like theirs contribute to the richness of the region, not only ecologically, but culturally. They are essential to the Amazon’s balance. And yet, that balance is fragile, constantly threatened by economic, political, and environmental pressures that can so easily tip it out of harmony.
How did you balance cultural sensitivity with the need to capture unique and engaging images?
I believe that time and genuine curiosity are essential when engaging with any culture, no matter the medium. For me, it begins with presence, taking the time to listen and allowing things to unfold at their own rhythm.
When you enter a place that is unfamiliar, or work with people whose experiences differ from your own, there is a responsibility to meet them on their terms. Stories and perspectives need time and trust to surface, and equally, you need time to hear them, not through the filter of your own expectations or assumptions, but as they truly are.
That requires patience and a willingness to be guided by what you don’t yet understand. The strength of the work doesn’t come from the images alone, but from the relationships behind them. The time invested in building those connections is what allows for photographs that are both respectful and revealing. In my opinion, the process of getting to know and understand others is the most rewarding part of the work.
How do you hope your project will allow readers/buyers to think deeper about our connection to nature, culture, life and death? What are the main narratives or messages do you hope to impart through your powerful images?
While my earlier work with traditional midwives focused on the tangible aspects of the daily lives of women and the ribeirinho communities, The Enchanted Ones ventures into the intangible, the realm of myths and oral stories passed down through generations. In many ways, these two approaches (documentary and abstract) are complementary. They illuminate the same people and place from different angles, ultimately weaving together a more complete portrait.
Although it was the midwives who first shared these stories with me, myth and storytelling belong to the wider ribeirinho community. They are part of a collective heritage that gives meaning, binds people together, and helps make sense of both life and death. I hope The Enchanted Ones invites readers to reflect on how myth and reality are not separate worlds, but interconnected ways of seeing and knowing.
What were the most fun and challenging aspects of The Enchanted Ones?
What I love most about photography is the way it serves as a bridge, a reason to connect with people, to share time together, and to really get to know someone. That was certainly the most rewarding part of The Enchanted Ones: having the chance to be welcomed by these remarkable women and then trying, in turn, to tell their stories with the same warmth and generosity they showed me.
The challenges were different in nature. Traveling alone to unfamiliar places always carries its own logistical hurdles, and sometimes loneliness. I also feel that being a solo female traveler opened many doors, it allowed me to enter spaces I might not have otherwise, but at the same time, it could present its own difficulties.
Have any of the Ribereinhos community seen your work or reacted to it?
Yes, absolutely. Many of the women I worked with were older and have since passed, but I have always considered this project a collaboration where images and stories were shared. What began as a photographic approach soon grew into interviews and conversations about how they felt and how to make their work known and recognized by local authorities so that they could feel more supported (and respected). In some states, that recognition did come. I still remember Dona Josefina from Acre telling me, “I want my work to be seen.” Her words became a guiding refrain throughout the documentary project.
The consistent conversations around motherhood and reproduction in the United States seem to miss the mark – with our lack of a national paid leave policy, expensive childcare, lack of ongoing support for postpartum issues, abortion bans and restrictions, and our healthcare system that leaves so many people out. In light of this, was there anything that shifted your perspective while observing the Ribereinhos and learning about their way of life?
This is such a layered question. On one hand, I fully agree with you, the U.S. has missed the mark when it comes to healthcare, reproductive rights, postpartum support, paid leave, and affordable childcare. Those gaps are undeniable.
But what struck me when working with the midwives was the importance of not romanticizing their reality. Their presence exists, first and foremost, because of a lack of adequate access to medical care. For many women, reaching a clinic is prohibitively expensive- whether because of the cost of gas for the boat, food and lodging in a nearby town, or the loss of leaving one’s family for days.
Clinics themselves were often inadequate, with the sick and the healthy crowded together in waiting rooms or corridors. And many women reported not being treated respectfully, particularly in childbirth, where there was a pervasive fear of “going under the knife” in a country with a high cesarean rate.
The midwives see their work as a “dom que Deus me deu” or “a gift from God”. But it also places them in challenging situations, facing life-and-death circumstances without proper medical backup. This is why I believe it is so critical that they be recognized not only as community caregivers but as professionals. In parts of Brazil, changes have happened: midwives are receiving government salaries, training, and more respectful collaboration with clinics. But in many areas, this recognition and support are still missing.
Through all these challenges, though, what I witnessed was a deep sense of dignity, solidarity, patience, and empathy; qualities that felt profoundly human and holistic. That felt like a contrast to the fragmented, dehumanized approach to health and well-being I’ve seen elsewhere.
You can purchase a copy of The Enchanted Ones HERE. Follow Stephanie Pommez on Instagram and see more of her work on her website.
