Sebastian Copeland's upcoming plans include making another trip to the North Pole. It's nothing new for the photographer-cum-explorer, but there is an unsettling condition about this journey he is about to make. Not because he is now 54, nor due to the hazardous method he has chosen: walking. The most disturbing factor is that this is probably the last time he can do something like this.

"I don't believe it will even be feasible 10 years from now," says the pole explorer. Perhaps, the ice will have already melted by then.

As an established polar explorer, public speaker, author, award-winning photographer and environmental activist, Copeland is one of the heavyweights of the The Royal Photographic Society of Thailand's exhibition "Beyond The Air We Breathe: Addressing Climate Change" at Bangkok Art and Culture Centre. Iconic images from over 80 influential, international photographers were curated by the Lucie Foundation for the United Nations Climate Change Conference, COP21 in Paris, before making its rounds to millions of viewers in Italy, USA, Mexico and now Thailand. The British/French national wears many hats, but perhaps the one most likely to encourage others to save the world is that of an artist.

Copeland may be best-known for his photographs of the poles, but his start as a professional photographer was actually in America's Tinseltown, Hollywood. He was shooting movie posters and marketing materials and dealt with Hollywood actors, but naturally gravitated towards shooting more landscape photography following his other life-long love: nature.

"I didn't find [Hollywood] work to be important enough, I thought it was just expendable," he says. "I always considered myself an artist and applying your skill as an artist to a commercial endeavour is basically turning your work into tomorrow's fish wrapper. I had always been shooting landscape photography and I was still doing exotic trips. If you're venturing out into the mountains, you are always going to find interesting things and the light is going to be amazing no matter what you shoot. I always had that camera, but I didn't have a fully developed concept of why I was doing it. It all sort of came into focus when I recognised that climate change would be the conduit to fulfil the three pillars of my identity, which are exploration, photography and advocacy."

Calling himself a "nature guy", Copeland remembers how he has been sailing since he was three and was given a privileged exposure to nature even though he was raised in the city. His grandfather had been a big nature lover as well -- in fact, a safari hunter -- but Copeland only got to know him long past midlife when he had traded his gun for a camera. Coupled with his childhood dream to go to the polar regions, where the romantic concept of finding yourself in the great white yonder awaited, the adventurer eventually came to realise that he could combine his athletic abilities and photographic skills to serve a greater cause.

"It took a couple of years of how to put that together, but when you have a purpose, things fall into place," he recounts of himself back in the 90s, as he became more educated on planet issues and read more scientific reports.

By putting together trips and offering his services to the scientific community, Copeland ended up becoming an expert of sorts on systematic transformations in the polar regions, while also contributing to reports and papers. From a controlled studio to an antagonistic white space, the photographer had the benefit of being an adventurous soul, which helped him with soldiering on in life-threatening environments.

"I was already a big rock climber, so risk, adversity and going to places was not intimidating for me at all," he says. "On the contrary, perhaps I naively embraced it."

A downside of going to a place as remote as the North Pole is how cost intensive it continues to be. Search and rescue operations need to be in place, so that safety teams can access him in a relatively short time, but Copeland reckons that it is inner strength that is most crucial.

"The physical component is very important, but it represents only 20% of what the trip will be," he says of the intensive preparation before these expeditions take place. "You need to be physically fit, but it's not your muscles that will get you there, it's your head. There have been people who are physically very strong but collapse, and others who seem a lot more frail but have a doggedness about them to keep going."

This more or less includes staying still for hours, as the slightest hand jerk could make a seal he tried to photograph scurry away. While taking photos of glaciers took some skill adjustment on his part, his training in photography and true artistic mettle is ultimately put to test when in a place so barren. These challenges were what he wholeheartedly embraced.

"I pride myself in finding purpose in the void, photographically as well as personally," says Copeland. "There is a lot to be found if you know where to look. You're in an empty space that is purely elemental, where the division between the sky and ice is only split by one line, where sometimes you see it and sometimes you cannot. How do you make sense of that purity and simplicity and organise it into something that is harmoniously pleasing? You can find such rich expressions of nature without looking for the fireworks. Anyone can shoot fireworks. But finding the details and richness of that emptiness is a reflection of both your inner state and the commitment you've put into your journey."

His trips are clearly no easy feat and require extreme dedication. "Someone who's there for a day will never see things," he reveals. "You need to be there for weeks or months and during that time period, you may only get a few opportunities to get the good stuff. It's like people who go out there and spend months trying to find the white spotted leopard in the mountains. A tourist who decides to go do so for a day will not see it."

Despite his pictures being visual reminders of climate change, visitors will surprisingly find that his photographs are pleasantly calming to look at -- running along the lines of peeking polar animals and stunning glaciers. His most depressing shot is of a fuzzy husky stuck on a sheet of ice, but even that picture is likely to generate some glee with the gloom.

"There certainly is a role for them [depressing images], but they're not necessarily the most effective," he explains. "When you come to complex scientific issues that are polarised by politics, you need to be able to talk to everyone, not just the converted. If you show really horrible images, people tend to shut off because they're cruel and not empathetic."

"In order to prepare the terrain for more complete discussions and inviting people to participate, you need to open the door and get them inside the room," he adds. "My work is there to open the door, but it's not there to tell you what to think. When it does, art becomes didactic and it loses both missions where it's not effective as a tool for science and it's no longer art. Art is designed to resonate at an individual level; it's supposed to make you feel. If you're lucky, that feeling is going to move to the brain and make you think. There's nothing like art that can make that conduit between heart and brain."

After decades of speaking extensively about global warming around the world and advocating for the cause, Copeland reckons that the situation isn't great but improving. The question is whether that progress is coming too late.

"It's registering in our collective consciousness and there is a growing commitment at least on the surface -- which is where it starts. One thing certain is that we are clever, even if we're a pest. We certainly have the engineering skills to resolve just about anything. I'm worried about our time frames, but I'm not pessimistic about our capabilities."

Sebastian Copeland in front of his photographs at BACC.