Staff were talking about it in the coffee queue, the elevator, at the photocopier, in the corridors, before and after meetings, over lunch. Yep, everyone was excited and when you look at the photos you can understand why. Dombrovskis is arguably Australia's greatest wilderness photographer, but his work transcends the limits of his genre and will appeal to a broad range of people beyond the hardened bushwalker, obsessed botanist and photography buff.

I like wilderness as much as the next weekend bushwalker and I'm quite partial to a pretty picture of some trees and mountains. However, Dombrovskis is definitely no ordinary taker of pretty pictures. Like many wilderness photographers he went to remote regions not oft navigated, even by the most gung-ho bushwalker. He took technically accomplished photographs of the spectacular and beautiful Tasmanian wilderness but he also took what is regarded by many as the most influential photograph in Australian history.

Bob Brown's essay at the beginning of the NLA publication Journeys into the Wild relates the fascinating story of the role that Morning Mist, Rock Island Bend, Franklin River played in the successful campaign to prevent the Tasmanian Hydro-Electric Commission damming the Gordon and Franklin rivers in the early 1980s. Brown's essay also tells of Dombrovskis' relationship with fellow photographer and mentor Olegas Truchanas. It's both a remarkable and tragic story, the kind you couldn't make up. Both were refugees from war-torn central Europe, loved the Tasmanian wilderness and wilderness photography, and died too young doing what they loved, taking photos in Tasmania's south-west.

There is so much to admire about the work of Dombrovskis. Like, for instance, his use of colour. So many wilderness photographs scorch your retinas with lurid, intense colours meant to "pop" and knock you off your feet from 20 paces. Dombrovskis' images are spectacular - yes, a work like Morning Light on Little Horn does take your breath away - but they are also subtle and nuanced. The colours are rich and deep and draw you into the image; they make you want to look more. The light that captured is never overpowering or loud. In images like Peppermint Gum (Eucalyptus pulchella) Woodland near Chimney Pot Hill, Mount Wellington and Pencil Pine at Pool of Siloam, Walls of Jerusalem National Park, there's also plenty of room for darkness and shadow, mist and mystery.

Unlike many other landscape photographers and painters, there is very little sky in his images. Formally he has a tendency to push the horizon line high into the composition and change the position of the viewer. I love this aspect of his work and the variety of perspectives it offers. In Lake Oberon, Western Arthur Range, I'm flying above the lake and the surrounding jagged peaks. In Near Lake Sirona, Western Arthur Range, I'm on my knees in a quiet moment of contemplation. The focus is on the shapes and patterns of the mountains, trees, rocks and plants. Pattern and shape are brought into the foreground in another signature aspect of his work: the intimate, close-up details of natural elements. They are photographs that reveal a universe in a thicket of seaweed or a cushion plant. In fact sometimes they even reveal the photographer himself, such as in Macrocystis and Hormosira Seaweed, where Dombrovskis, his camera and his tripod are reflected in every sphere of the Hormosira seaweed.

In fact his choice of equipment is also fascinating. For most of his career Dombrovskis used a large-format Linhof Master Technika. Using film almost 16 times larger than a 35mm camera, the Linhof allowed Dombrovskis to take extraordinarily detailed images but it was also heavy and cumbersome.

When walking for a week in the wilderness, Dombrovskis had to carry the required food, tent and equipment, as well as the camera and around 50 sheets of film. Unlike the immediate approach allowed by smaller 35mm cameras and contemporary digital cameras, photographers using large-format cameras have to take more care and time in setting up their shots:

''Because sheet film is expensive and loading it is slow and tedious, I seldom take more than one exposure of each subject,'' Dombrovskis once explained. ''This occasionally leads to bitter regret when I misjudge exposure after spending, perhaps, an hour on a single image.''

He loaded the camera in his tent where the film was protected from the elements, set up a tripod, composed the shot and then waited for the right light or conditions before releasing the shutter. His photographs convey this careful consideration and uncompromising commitment to his process.

I'll never go to many of the places Dombrovskis photographed but I am so grateful that he did and that he brought back these precious images of a timeless, rugged and beautiful world. Even the places I have been to are now completely recast by his photos. If you buy the book, or come to the exhibition, I hope you experience the same moments of elevation and reverence in the images as I did.

Matthew Jones is the curator of Dombrovskis: Journeys into the Wild.

Dombrovskis: Journeys into the Wild, only at the National Library of Australia, Canberra. Until 30 January, 2018. Open daily. Free exhibition.

Peter Dombrovskis: Journeys into the Wild, introduction by Bob Brown. National Library of Australia. $39.99.