This photo essay was commissioned by The New York Times. Please click to see the original article.behind the photo on the road share:
This photo essay was commissioned by The New York Times. Please click to see the original article.behind the photo on the road share:
On Monday, Nicola Sturgeon confirmed her reputation as the UK’s best politician by uniting the British media with a singular pro-Sturgeon vision. She gazumped Downing Street’s Brexit* bill, due to pass in the House of Lords, by announcing indyref2 and getting her own visual message on the front page of almost every national paper.
By excluding all independent photographers from this historic, twice-in-a-lifetime speech The Scottish Government sent out their own photographs and the newspapers happily gobbled them up. Would the national press publish verbatim a government press release? Of course not. So why have they done so with their photographs? And who kept the togs out, anyway?
When indyref2 was announced, I was on assignment in Paisley and was alerted to the news by some SNP activists hanging ‘Yes’ bunting from their office, minutes after the speech had finished. I then heard that colleagues in Edinburgh had been excluded from attending the event. The two moments together triggered flashbacks and I recalled how in that very same room Alex Salmond had announced his resignation in 2014 while barring sections of the media from attending. Pro-union journalists were excluded and The Guardian declined to attend because the Scottish Government were seeking to hand-pick a journalist. The public know that happened because the government excluded writers on that occasion and the writers, naturally, wrote about it. No one, as far as I know, has written about this latest press exclusion because it was against the lowly snappers.
The other difference is the government openly admits they didn't want photographers there in the first place- "they weren't invited". When the motley crew turned up in the hope of getting something inside they ended up outside with the saddest group shot of 2017. A significant branch of the media was left out.
The official excuse was a problem of "space" in the room, the same reason its worth noting used at Salmond’s resignation for the journalists. Could they not have found a bigger room in the past two years or go on the street like their counterparts do in London? The stately interior is small with its gold framed mirrors (important visual cues) but they managed to fit seven film crews, over 30 writers (some papers had two) and one government photographer. If they could fit one photographer in, why did they not use an independent photographer to avoid claims of stifling press freedom? Or at least the avoid devaluing photography as a 2nd class medium.
Having a pool from AFP, Getty images, PA or Reuters is standard practice. To give credit to these agencies who had photographers standing outside they did not syndicate the government-approved photos because they classed them as ‘screened’ images. The agencies saw the issue where the newspapers did not. The papers took them straight off the Government's flickr account. The problem was clearly not space and it could be accused of control.
The following day, to her credit, First Minister Nicola apologised personally to the two photographers allowed into her cabinet meeting. What or who was she apologising for?
An official response later given to me by the press office admitted there was "a fault on our part" and they are "taking action to get it sorted".** Indeed they are meeting with the photographers to discuss how to work this out.
I know this could appear trivial in the context of countries splitting apart but how a government operates day-to-day is a microcosm of what happens at a higher level.
As a photographer it reveals two things to me:
First, governments know the power of the image to shape public opinion and the need to control that image. They want us to see some things and not others. Nicola Sturgeon, like Alex Salmond, is a master of the photo op to control her image. She is the prime administrator of selfies, getting her message out one phone at a time. Without visual journalists showing us what politicians do no-one would really know. I would love to think its because photographs are so powerful that photographers were kept outside, could we spin it as a compliment? The Scottish Government does respect the power of photography to the extent they actually paid a professional photographer even if they didn’t respect a free press to do their job.
Assuming we get in the room, our job is to ask ourselves- what do they want us to do here? How is the subject seeking to control our images for their benefit?
Secondly it shows, sadly, that people in the newspaper business don’t always recognise that photographs carry the same power as the words. On Monday night I imagine the editors needing to fill cover space and it made sense to show the story of the day even if it was the government-approved story of the day. The Times at least ran a Scottish Government byline to inform us to read the image with caution. If you think a simple image of a woman speaking cannot convey that much information, think how long it takes to update your Facebook profile pic. A simple headshot can mean a thousand different things depending on what you want to show.
The greatest editors and writers I have worked with have recognised the value of the photographer as a news gatherer, a fact-finder and a visual communicator. An equal to investigate and not just some monkey to fill a space or adds a splash of colour to the page. We sometimes invite that cliché. The lack of any protest from the papers when their photojournalists were excluded seems worse than the act of itself.
Sturgeon understands the vital role of the media in telling the story she wants told. On Monday, she managed to get the papers to publish her message on their covers without anyone questioning what the photos might actually say. More worrying is the Scottish Government can exclude photographers without any obvious push back from the papers (like not publishing the photos). Whether it was an intentional plot or a stupid blunder becomes less relevant when you consider that no-one seemed to care the photographers were shut out and they just published the government's photos anyway.
*Brexit means the UK will leave the EU. Indyref2 is the sequel vote proposed to get Scotland out of the UK but remaining in the EU.
**CORRECTION Friday 17 March 2100 GMT: Following further communication with the Scottish Government they did not dispute the facts of the article except the claim of an earlier version of this blog where it was suggested a junior civil servant was blamed for the mistake. They expressly denied that any junior civil servant was singled out for blame but acknowledged that mistakes had been made collectively. This assertion has now been removed due to a lack of direct evidence. They reiterated their desire to find a constructive way forward working with press photographers.
The original interview was taken from Inspiration Point, a place for young people interested in the arts in the North-east of Scotland to find out more about the creative pathways available to them within their local area and beyond.
What is your connection with Aberdeen?
Aberdeen marks the city where I transformed from a school boy to a fledgling professional photographer. I studied zoology here and changed a lot as a person, my worldview underwent a paradigm shift as I considered the deeper questions of life. That also made me consider the direction I was heading and I and began my first job for a press agency covering the north east.
How did you get into photography?
Since I was a small boy, photography has been my tool to process my curiosity about the world; it is a very intuitive thing. When I saw something of interest, whether it was beautiful or ugly, I would document it, and think about it later and share it with others to see what they thought. Years later, I travelled to Malawi for my dissertation to study blue monkeys and discovered I spent more time documenting the land and the people than I did carrying out my fieldwork. As I had to decide what to do next, I reasoned that I should be a photographer because that’s what comes most naturally to me. Journalism was the best training to learn how to think critically and communicate what i was seeing.
Can you describe a typical working month for you?
My diary looks very different on the 1st and last day of the month. The empty space fills up with weird and wonderful and unexpected events. I plan a few actual events to give structure and some sense of direction but generally the time is up for grabs. Every Monday I sit down at the start the week and refocus on the year or two ahead. Without the big vision, the details feel less significant and I will drift aimlessly.
When did you feel confident telling people you were a photographer and why?
At university people said it to me. Other people can usually see you better than you can. I was incessantly documenting everything- nights out, nights in, the people who were around me.
What have been the high points of your career so far?
I won a World Press Award when I was 25. I was young; a junior photographer in Glasgow, learning my craft and it was for a self-initiated story. I couldn’t believe it. My colleagues couldn’t either! It opened up doors of opportunity from nowhere. The best thing about it was the surprise factor; I had found great pleasure in the process of documenting the mass migration of bats in Zambia. The high of winning almost eclipsed that. When I look back I remember that the joy was in the process and not the award. The former made the latter possible.
What would you say have been the biggest challenges in doing what you do and what has helped you through?
The better I get, the bigger the challenges! To improve you need to push beyond comfort and experience and so I make bigger challenges for myself. Practically that means finding new ways to fund or produce the work. We are creatives but success or failure comes down to how we do the small things- including the mundane details of business. I find that the hardest discipline is trying to carve out time and space to create, while also keeping on top of the growing to do list. The challenge, I think, is to maintain your passion. Without that joy you lack energy, and produce your worst work.
How do you sustain your practice?
There are daily roadblocks and generally they revolve around the necessary questions of finance or admin. If the roadblock is a looming deadline then the adrenaline kicks in to get through it but the hardest roadblocks are sometimes best ignored for a few hours. When things are going well, you have momentum, and it’s like you are smashing them in a Sherman tank. But often it’s like the creative harr rolls in and you lose sight of what’s happening, and you feel cold and a bit depressed. Those days I force myself to get out, turn off the phone, avoid social media and see friends or go for a walk somewhere new. That’s usually when new ideas come. Fatigue is the worst culprit, as the grind of work wears you down. I can’t understate the value of a good night’s sleep or time off. Then you have the energy to tackle the problem.
Are there any resources that you’ve found particularly helpful?
Older people. They offer a perspective that our immediate peers cannot. We may think the world is so new and different; that they are cynical old dinosaurs, but the most innovative artists I know are far older than me. They can read the trends, ignore the froth and bring a life of experience to new events. Reading biographies often helps to show us that.
What do you love most about what you do?
Being on the ground, with my cameras, actually making the work. To witness and document life as it unfolds before me.
What’s the best piece of advice you have been given so far?
‘Go to the toilet when possible.’ An Aberdeen Evening Express photographer shared this nugget when I first started. I call it pithy wisdom! It captures the importance of planning and taking opportunities when they present themselves. That way we won’t be distracted from the main task later on.
What advice would you give to someone thinking about getting into photography and to those just starting out?
Keep going! Your instinct is good. The arts are vital for a flourishing society. You might not get paid as much as other jobs but you can make a decent living and it’s hugely important. People with big houses can’t sleep because they are worrying about the car in the drive. With a crappy car it’s not a worry! On the other hand, debt is no fun and it will kill your creativity, so live within your means. Start small and build up. Do whatever is in front of you with all your skill and the new opportunities will present themselves in due time. Don’t despise the day of small things.behind the photo interview motivation share:
Spare million? This is the place to invest, according to the Wall Street Journal's Mansion section. On assignment December 2016, I walked 15 miles revisiting locations and waiting for the right light and sheltering in Pret when the sub-zero winds became too much.
Forward planning is key to successful shoots. Sometimes deadlines appear and we have to respond but in an ideal world we get the best by planning. This property shoot was commissioned by an editor who knew her job- to convey as much about the local atmosphere as the fabric of the homes. This was a mix of daily life and landscape, something I was very happy to shoot and put the groundwork in. She gave a good space ahead of the deadline to choose the best conditions and visit on a couple of different days
She was happy, I was happy. The world seemed happier too. There is a lot of love in Edinburgh at New Year.behind the photo on the road stories share:
Before Instagram, the iPhone and the global financial crisis, I boarded a plane for the US to begin my freelance career, 10 years ago to the day.
That was the year Facebook went public, Saddam Hussein was sentenced to death, The God Delusion was published, Richard Hammond crashed a jet-powered car, London was hit by a tornado and the Chinese river dolphin became extinct. Yet, some things remain.
Here are 10 constants of freelance life in the ever-changing media landscape.
1. Its about who you know
The freelance market is crowded but it can also be a lonely place. You spend a lot of time pursuing your own work with your own energy and money. Its about contacts, sure, but actual friends are more important. They drive you forward and help you keep going when its tough. They give grounding when you are far away from home immersed in work.
You need self-motivation to overcome obstacles but at the end of the day you need people to share the joys and sorrows. If you find success, people will chase you and want a piece of you but in the quiet times they fly away like vultures chasing the next bit of meat. Invest in family and friends whose support is not based on your professional productivity.
2. Stay focussed
Failure is being successful at the wrong things. Distraction lurks at your fingertips and its essential to keep your main aim in focus. A few hours a week, over a year becomes a significant piece of work. Carving out the time and keeping it sacrosanct is key.
A good friend told me "sometimes you have to say no to good things". They are right.
3. Find your niche
At the Olympics, millions watched a man ride a dancing horse to win a gold medal. That is niche. Other athletes spent four years preparing for a sub-10 second dash. They became world class because they found their niche and worked at that. In advertising & politics, like sport, its all about targeted (niche) campaigns.
4. Beware the carrot danglers
How many times have I been lured by emails starting “we love your work!”. Talk of TV shows, lucrative commissions or global publications. They dangle the proverbial carrot to lure us along like a metaphoric ass. But these people are clouds without rain, promising much but delivering nothing.
Beware of gushing emails but be open to the unexpected. There are invitations that seem too good but are, in fact, true. Like the paid commission to stay on remote St Kilda, or winning funding for 8 weeks in Tibet or the exhibition in The State Hermitage in Russia. All real, unexpected and brilliant.
5. Be offline, often
Stay here for now. Offline space allows thoughts to evolve as they are intended, to converse and imagine without the interruption of a phone or email or the eternal stream of social media updates. It saps our attention and impacts our relationships. Switching to airplane mode on a train or walking is a liberation from our addiction to information.
6. Approaching open & closed doors
Leaping through open doors can be stressful but it is far better than looking unhappily at closed ones. Opportunities appear quickly and are soon gone. Every day I see opportunities appear and I have to decide if I am brave enough to proceed. If I don't, the game is over.
Every Monday I write a plan. By Friday it is covered in new action points or tears or blood. Things never, EVER, go as I was would expect them. Week by week, my ideas gain momentum or are refined as new possibilities open up. Persistence has proved more vital than artistic skill in finding a path through.
7. Do the paperwork
Boring but vital. We need to eat, dress and sleep which requires we turn a profit. People don’t rush to pay and they won’t bother at all if we don’t keep up to date with invoices. Every trip requires days of applications, invitations, email and visas. Do it right and its exhilarating and meaningful.
8. Beware copyright infringers
People take pictures without asking, then refuse to pay. Then even call you names for pointing it out. You can't take a puffin without permission, so why take a picture? (the law is more nuanced than this).
The best, most flagrant example was an Italian news site that removed a series of my portraits from a UK newspaper on the same day and promoted it as their own. They were online but that doesn’t mean they are public domain.
‘No man is an island, unless his name is Madagascar’, Phil Kay once said. We need other people, whether we admit it or not- the subjects, editors, families or the strangers who appear at the right time when your car has flipped off the road in the highlands.
Being freelance provides a way to navigate your own worklife but only if you find meaningful and brilliant people to work with. We have to look beyond ourselves to grow. People who share your vision but I also seek out people who will openly disagree, when necessary. They have taught me a lot.
10. Take the long view
We are works in progress, give yourself another 10 years. The industry feeds off new work and new photographers but don’t let yourself be consumed by short-term gains. Have a 50 year plan- why are you doing this? You will most likely still be working when you are 90.
Interview taken From the Royal Photographic Society Journal, June 2016.
I’m interested in the way beliefs shape landscape, and wanted to explore the last remaining forests that surround churches in the north of Ethiopia – a country where, in the last 100 years, 95 per cent of the forests have been chopped down.
These churches are run by those who practise the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo religion, a traditional Christian denomination. They view these forests as a kind of miniature Garden of Eden, the clothes of the church. It’s a communal resource and they try to keep it as pristine as possible.
However, in recent years, there’s been an upsurge in grazing cattle and an increase in population, slowly creeping into the centre of these forests. So the people who look after them are trying to take action to prevent this from happening.
In other places I have visited in Africa, conservation is a kind of ‘fortress’ where locals are thrown out and westerners visit in cars and look at animals, causing a division between conservation and the community.
With this project, I wanted to reconcile traditional beliefs with modern conservation ethics.
There’s a huge grass-roots desire to look after and preserve these forests in Ethiopia, which are hugely beneficial to the country, but they need financial support. I hope that exhibiting the work in the capital, Addis Ababa, will help raise awareness among those working in development.
I spent a month in Ethiopia, including three weeks in the field in Bahir Dar where most of these forests are. With the photos, I wanted to show the passing of time, and reveal how these people are stewards of the Earth, caring for these trees which will outlive them and benefit future generations. I thus started using slow exposures to show time passing, but also the spiritual sense of the place. It was a place of daily life, but it also transcended the profane.
The bursary let me go somewhere I’d always wanted to and document a positive conservation story. So much of what we hear in relation to biodiversity is how things are failing, how we’re losing stuff.
I feel this story shows that people can look after the environment, and not just in fortress-like national parks.
If you would like to know more about this work please contact: email@example.com
Originally published on New York Times Lens blog.
Interview by Kerri Macdonald
Today would have been Scotland’s first Independence Day.
That is, if a majority of Scots had voted “yes” in the 2014 independence referendum. But voters said no, so today is merely another Thursday in Scotland. For many people there, though, an important question remains: What does it mean to be Scottish?
That question has preoccupied the Glasgow-based photographer Kieran Dodds for years. Mr. Dodds, 35, grew up in Stirling and went to college in Aberdeen, in Scotland’s north. It was when he began traveling and working abroad that he started to see his country from an outsider’s perspective.
“Everywhere I went, they’d say, ‘Where are you from?’ ” Mr. Dodds said, recalling a trip to Tibet in 2012. “And I’d say, ‘Scotland.’ And they’d say, ‘Ah, freedom!’ They loved ‘Braveheart.’ I thought, why is my culture defined by an Australian director from Hollywood?”
Two years before the referendum, Mr. Dodds decided to dig deeper into Scotland, which he called “a land of myth and legend.” And now, despite the outcome of the referendum, he is still pursuing the personal project, “Land of Scots.”
Mr. Dodds’s square photographs, shot with a Hasselblad, explore the myths and stories he says have come to define his country over the years. Some have to do with the land and its history. Others are pretty famous. Ever heard of Nessie?
“Why are we represented by a mythical monster?” Mr. Dodds asked himself not long after he started exploring “Land of Scots.” The Loch Ness monster, he said, is a symbol of the deeper stories in the landscape.
“It happens to be the one that has captured the imagination and it brings in the tourists,” he said.
Meanwhile, there is Mel Gibson’s William Wallace, the knight who sought independence for his homeland.
“All cultures have clichés, and they help us to grab onto something essential,” Mr. Dodds said. “And so there’s always this warrior spirit thing which came from William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. We kind of use it for tourist promotion. And so I say it’s a useful cliché. And it’s also a good cliché. Who wouldn’t want to be a ferocious warrior in the world’s eyes?”
Mr. Dodds, who has been working as a freelance photographer for about a decade, said that assignment work — in particular, assignments for international publications, including The New York Times — has allowed him to see more of his own country. While shooting for the National Trust of the United Kingdom, he traveled to St. Kilda, an archipelago in the North Atlantic that was named a Unesco World Heritage site in the mid-1980s. It’s “the last bit of land before America or Canada,” he said (Slide 1).
It is not easy to get to St. Kilda, so Mr. Dodds was grateful to have a reason to visit.
“Everybody thinks of it as this kind of deserted, mythical place,” he said. “It is very cool to be there. There is something awesome and otherworldly about it.”
As we spoke about the myths attached to a number of his images, Mr. Dodds paused.
“Our national animal is a unicorn,” said Mr. Dodds, who happens to have studied zoology. “I’ve been dancing around all these other myths, but the best one is the national beast of Scotland, a unicorn.”
Most people would agree that unicorns are not real. But as Mr. Dodds writes on his website, the beasts “are so common in Scotland that people don’t notice them. They try to get our attention by standing on two feet, with shaggy manes and even sticking their tongues out. They are so everyday that it has taken me three decades to notice they are everywhere.”
Had Scotland gained independence from Britain, the unicorn — which joins England’s lion on the Royal Coat of Arms of the United Kingdom — would have been lost.
Although the political atmosphere in Scotland has quieted down since the summer and fall of 2014, Mr. Dodds said, questions of identity remain a crucial part of the conversation in Scotland.
“These questions have not gone away. In fact, they’re more pointed,” he said. “But we’ve shown that you can have very different opinions and yet still live together, and live in a way that is living, not just bearing with one another.”
The history of Scotland has been one of flux, Mr. Dodds said. He thought back to something he heard while working on a series about Tibetan nomads: “No culture is a museum piece.”
“That, for me, was like, ‘Ah, right!’ ” he said. “Because we want to hold onto something, keep it static, but it’s always shifting and changing.”
How long will Mr. Dodds pursue the question of Scotland’s identity — an identity that probably won’t ever be pinned down? He simply said: “There’s worse things to do.”
Around midsummer, the Shetland cliffs are alive with the sound of a thousand chattering shutters. Hot on the tails of the birds comes the annual migration of naturalists, armed to the eyeballs with optics. But do these modern tools help us or hinder us in experiencing the world?
The great Robert Capa once said ‘If your pictures aren’t good enough you are not close enough’. To get close to Shetland’s wild and woolly exterior, what you really need is an iPhone and a camper van.
The digital revolution has spawned a photographic arms-race to produce smaller cameras with more mega pixels, expensive super zooms and editing software to take our photos within an inch of their lives. Does this only increase the distance between us and the experience?
In general it is the men who obsess over the size of lens and sensor. My feminist colleagues tend to agree. Women know their technical stuff but they look through the lens rather than fixate on the buttons or screen behind it. We forget the point is to capture what we see. Our pictures are only as good as our ability to see.
From a distance, which is where most people view Shetland, there are two realms that seem at odds but they manage to co-exist. One appears colossal and corporate while the its opposite looks feathery and fragile. I wondered ‘can nature and industry both thrive in Shetland?’ and I pitched the idea to the St Brieuc Photoreporter festival in France. They agreed it was interesting and gave me the freedom to explore for three weeks.
For the task I used my professional DSLR to sketch out what I thought I was seeing. As the elements would come to together on location I would, unthinkingly, take out my iPhone and inevitably end up with the best picture.
There is something in the simplicity of function of a phone that allows the photographer to look. That’s the difference. We stop fiddling with our buttons on the back and we look. I can’t undersell the importance of looking. A camper van, likewise, forces you to see the landscape with fresh eyes. Everywhere becomes a potential home and you want an interesting view from the dinner table. I discovered wild camping vistas that would make 5-star hotels weep. Shetland’s humble car parks and lay-bys offer jaw dropping views.
Bringing your own bed also has many other advantages for the explorer- you are flexible to respond to the weather, you can snooze as you wait for the right light plus on Shetland you gain the rockstar status of a F1 driver. From Sumburgh to Unst, people literally stopped in their tracks to marvel at this modern wonder, turning their heads 180 degrees as it glided past.
If I was tired I could pull over and sleep. Once I awoke to find my van surrounded by axe-wielding Jarls! I had parked beside the start of the midsummer parade.
The best moment was after a sublime ‘simmer dim’ (the midsummer ‘midnight sun’) cruise to Mousa. The boat load of birdwatchers returned to Sandwick, purring contentedly like Storm Petrels in the broch. We landed around 2.00 am and I walked 50 paces to bed as the others began the long drive home. Ironically, this freedom involves taking everything including the kitchen sink, a shower, double bed and lounge but that allows you to be right place at the right time.
A camper van may be the ultimate photographer’s tool to explore Shetland’s 1600 wrinkled miles of coast. Add to this your mobile phone and you can truly experience what is in front of you.
The best photographs are created from the natural curiosity and contemplation of the world. On Shetland I think the word ‘worship’ fits well. People travel to see great visions and then respond to the grandeur of light and land by sharing this with others. Advances in photography gear if they are advances will make it easier to capture that vision.
Gone are the days of tedious slideshows in a darkened room, we have advanced to tedious slideshows on our computer screens. When you get home and trawl through thousands of images you may find, like me, it was the mobile moments of wonder that will lure us back.
Article commissioned for 60 North magazine. All photographs shot on an iPhone 6.behind the photo on the road stories tearsheets share:
“Photography has left the building” claims Stephen Mayes in a wide-ranging essay on the future of photography for Time Lightbox. But does new technology really represent a paradigm shift in the very nature of photography?
Mayes is a leader in his field, pioneering innovations and spotting future trends. He sees possibility when others lament the past. This is a positive future, and the antithesis of so many commentators. In the next stage, he says, photography will grow up as it experiences a paradigm shift.
I admit, I had to re-read the article a few times and while the detail may be fuzzy his big idea is clear- the next revolution is coming, don’t get left behind. To critique such a grand idea makes me feel like the mean guy who says the future won’t have flying cars I’m not that guy, I want a flying car but I still believe it is a car, even if it flies.
The world ‘photography’ is used throughout but I assume he was thinking about photojournalism first. By avoiding using the word ‘photojournalism’ he stops people saying “its dead!”. His vast experience in the discipline, the context of Time magazine and the World Press Photo’s current canvassing on ethics (alluded to in the piece) suggests this is the target. Like a preacher to a familiar flock he pleads- “Stop talking about the child it once was and put away the sentimental memories of photography as we knew it for all these years”. How often I have heard people lament the golden age that has passed.
The article begins with a statement about a revolution in all photography but later on Mark Levoy, of Google is quoted saying there will be no such thing as a ‘straight photograph', “except in photojournalism”.
An Oxford scholar joked that their rivals in Cambridge have the bad habit of extending their limited experience in east England to the entire universe. He cited Newton and his falling apple which was then extended uniformly to the planets. The theory worked until we discovered black holes. Are Mayes’ musings likewise universal in their application to all photography or should they be limited to the branch of photojournalism?
Photography has passed great milestones from childhood to puberty with the digital revolution and then the adoption of smart phones. The art has moved from picture making to data collecting. Next we will pass from “two dimensions to explore previously unimagined possibilities” with the photo as “a vessel for immeasurable volumes of information”. The future photography will have more dimensions and more information, which sounds very exciting. Do we need more information in a frame to better the ‘crude 2D rectangle’?
Augmentation (integrating information and data in visual forms) is a very exciting new branch but does it mean photography left the building entirely or is it constructing a sparkly new extension called computational photography? The brilliant example of Tomas Van Houtryve augmented images presents a sophisticated form of computerised photography. Is this a more refined version of cameras that printed the dates in bright orange font or hand-tinted glass plates? . Is photography moving or just expanding?
Mayes describes Cubism from 100 years ago as an example of where photography is going- “using multiple perspectives to depict a deeper understanding”. This seems a true revolution in art- circling back to the past. Those artists stripped back the visual form to amplify meaning considering the component parts. They were informed by new ideas and insights which they incorporated in their work but they simplified. And photography already contains that philosophy.
He states- “It will not be long before our audiences demand more sophisticated imagery that is dynamic and responsive to change, connected to reality by more than a static two-dimensional rectangle of crude visual data isolated in space and time.” I actually laughed when I first read ‘static 2D rectangle of crude visual data’ . These crude rectangles can reduce people to tears and turn governments from war. Mayes certainly believes that more than most, so its crudeness must be in comparison to vastly superior future. So what is the alternative being offered? Moving, 3D, sophisticated complex forms, I suppose. Interactive, digital, multi-layered are the trendy buzz words but in these the form of the essence of the photograph remains intact, and when we add other stuff we make them something else. Do we need to redefine photography?
The 2D representation of reality is a constant outlet of human creative expression from Chauvet’s caves to modern tablets. I imagine a french caveman once predicted the demise of finger painting as he held a hairy stick in his hand to the envy and wonder of his peers? Painting may have left the cave but it is still painting. The art continues to connect us to reality in abstract and representational forms.
Using LIDAR or electron microscopes may sound revolutionary in photography but they are still using light to make a picture. This sounds a little like chronological snobbery (newer is better) which is as dangerous as nostalgia.
Photography remains relevant in the tsunami of information unleashed by the web because it manages complexity simply. New technology offers new (exciting) ways to know more about our world and to explain it but why is adding immeasurable volumes of information to the simple image necessarily an advancement? We need simplicity to focus the attention on what matters.
If photography has left the building maybe she has gone out to find the photographers and editors who have wandered into fashionable cul-de-sacs and got distracted. Maybe it was us who moved, not photography. Mayes' aim is a laudable one- to spark debate and wake photojournalism up from the dreams of past glory to consider where we are heading.
If this is about connecting to an audience via smart apps and interactive web sites and virtual realities headset then photography remains very much at home. And if photography’s new building has lasers and flying cars then count me in.
1.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
2.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs
3.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
4.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
5.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
6.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
7.There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.
According to Ansel Adams.
Mind you, that won't stop every magazine and website, or me, telling you the rules for good photographs.
An interview from the official Instagram blog.
“Ginger is, by my classification, a spectrum from auburn to strawberry blond,” says Kieran Dodds (@kierandodds), a Scottish photojournalist whose country has one of the highest per capita populations of red-haired denizens in the world.
“Fellow gingers greet each other with a look of surprise and wonder. Even in Scotland, we are so rare that to see someone else with it is unexpected and sublime!”
Kieran notes that his radiant minority is sometimes subject to ridicule and stereotyping, and that even the term ‘ginger’ itself is fraught. “In Scotland, it is often used as a term of abuse,” he says. “I wanted to use this derogatory word and redeem it for its descriptive power. Ginger appears gold, orange or brown—sometimes all at once.”
“Before Scotland voted on independence last year, I spent time looking at my own country and working on a few stories. I was considering how we are perceived globally to consider the myths and realities. One of these myths is our physical appearance and how it relates to identity. I wanted people to see people, not cliches.”behind the photo interview motivation stories share:
Antonia and her partner Sergio work to feed their two children but struggle to make ends meet and have used emergency food aid in the past year.
This week it was announced that over one million people received help from UK Food banks during the last year. Why then are most news articles illustrated by rows of tins or tables laid with statistics, rather than people?
In North America and on mainland Europe, food banks are old news but in the UK figures show they have soared in six years from 25,000 to over one million people receiving a three day supply according to Trussell trust figures. Others contest this figure and say its only half a million people. (If you want to crunch the numbers I have a note at the bottom). Of those hundreds of thousands of people, next to nil appear in the press. I set aside a month to follow the food bank supply lines to the homes of hungry Britons in 21st century Britain before the General Election.
Depending on the spin, food banks represent a government’s failure or the success of civic society or both. Working on this story felt more difficult than on assignments in politically-charged Tibet or Zimbabwe. In both I received a warm welcome and a willingness from participants despite arguably greater risks to their freedom. People's trust acts as a catalyst for trustworthy reporting especially on politically sensitive stories. I was very aware of the trust they gave me and worked hard to ensure they remained safe once I had jumped on a plane and flown away. What about back home In the UK? For food bank clients the story remains hidden for the shame of being seen.
In London, I criss-crossed the capital from one cancellation to the next. With each knock-back I considered cutting my losses. I could understand their reluctance- an outsider asking people to share their struggle in the national media. I was trying to counter the stigma but it is a hard sell. In Scotland, one man was heckled by a passing driver as he was leaving a food bank- "You dirty, scrounging, junkie bastard!". That was in public, imagine the abuse he could receive online.
Of those we managed to arrange, many cancelled. Some silently ignored texts and phone calls, others giving reasons to remain anonymous and prevent the shame of their family or friends or workmates finding out. I was disappointed but not surprised. The people I did meet were struck hard by circumstances (unemployment, bereavement, illness) and were embarrassed to ask for help.
The Trussell trust, the UK’s largest food bank network, helped with access. They said cancellations were par for the course. The press request a case study, they line someone up, they cancel. These food banks run as autonomous entities so it is up to the food bank managers to approach people who might want to share their stories.
Working this way requires determination to walk the tight rope of accuracy and access. Its frustrating, its tiring and for me it is financially risky because it is self-funded. In the end it is important to share personal stories because tins of beans, like statistics, don't bleed.
I am thankful for those who were bold enough to share their stories.
See the full set of images on Panos Pictures.
*A note on figures. Following the announcement of 1.1 million people, a critique of the figures by Full Fact said this is not 1.1 million people but 1.1 million visits. The Trust say 'visits' isn't accurate and it is best reported as 'over a million people received three days 'emergency food', and had openly admitted that these are not unique users. Full Fact estimate that total individuals is likely to be only 500,000 people or so, based on Trussell trust data. Full Fact also point out (as has been done many times) that supply does not mean new demand. There may have been people in need of emergency food in the past who wouldn’t have shown up in the Trust’s figures. People may have hungry before but we just hadn't noticed. Trussell Trust figures show that demand is outstripping supply and has been for some years. Numbers of new food banks, they say, don't explain the much greater increase in food bank use. Full Fact link to a helpful British Medical Journal article that shows "the increase in use and number of food banks is associated with spending cuts, benefit sanctions and unemployment". Full Fact also point out that the Trussell Trust are one of many providers and provide only a third of emergency food aid. The problem looks far larger than the one million people found in this new report. They also conclude "Data from the Trussell Trust may be the best evidence we have but reporting needs to be clearer.behind the photo motivation stories share:
As their name would suggest, journalists love lists. They also love being prophets. Every new year the profession reveals their ‘ones-to-watch’ in science and art and politics. Experts predict which stars are on the ascendant and who will save us from the new challenges ahead and show us the right way. Its no surprise that the UK’s highest earning journalist is an astrologer
Innovators are vital in our changing world but we must not confuse them as examples to copy. Lists should come with this warning- “Beware of bandwagon ahead!”.
Here is my list to encourage new year innovation and avoid copy-cat imitation.
1. Respond to change
The best contemporary art responds to its times and speaks beyond them. That’s why photojournalism is such a worthy art form. We consider the times we live in and make work in light of past inspired by those who have come before. How is the story evolving and where is it heading?
2. Move on
We change with the times. Our work reflects what we understand (or don't) about this remarkable universe. We may be tempted to play safe with familiar stories. Be brave and move on. If you are not interested in the subject, why is anyone else going to be?
3. Read for depth
We could easily copy the aesthetic look of celebrated photographers but our work will appear superficially thin. The best work has depth. Reading the stories behind the 'ones to watch' helps us understand the photographer’s motivation and thinking. CS Lewis said “My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see through those of others.” The more you read the better your work becomes.
4. People love people
People stories are endlessly interesting and that will never change. The novelty must come from the current-ness of a subject. Who are these people and what are they doing now?
5. Local goes global
Diane Arbus once said “the more specific you are, the more general it’ll be”. The everyday movement on instagram confirms the importance of the local in understanding the global. What is ordinary to us is remarkable to the outsider, we just need to discipline ourselves to see it. I spent a year documenting my own country and was amazed and surprised by it, it felt like falling in love with my homeland all over again. Be novel, be local.
6. Get new stuff
If I could get some nanobots with cameras I would start documenting inside my blood vessels. Scientific technology drives innovation in art. We don’t always need the latest thing either. Last year I returned to using film to force myself to look harder at what I was shooting. The art of photography is about challenging ourselves to find a fresh perspective. Buying new stuff can help us to achieve that aim.
7. Less efficient, more excellent
Washing machines are efficient, light bulbs are efficient but people are not machines. Freelancers are conditioned by the corporate world to think in terms of shifts and targets. What is the point of your efficiency? Replace efficient with excellent, its a more forgiving master.
Aiming to be on a 'one to watch list' is like chasing the wind People on these lists are often surprised to be there because they have worked on the same thing for years but now it has become relevant.
Innovators focus on the task at hand even when no one is was looking.
Inspired by this, I thought I would share my experience, the pleasure without the pain, with editors and collectors in my ‘little-shots’ sets. The idea was to create a memorable aide-memoir to explain to them who I am and what I do- I tell stories by a series of photographs.
The little-shots function like an abridged book, bound by their box. They have even worked as a mini-exhibit in a group show in France.
The story is pressed on the box to ensure the viewer is offered the context before viewing the photographs. Then they may open and discover 12 little prints with further small captions on the reverse. Pleasure with the pain removed. Left with the final edit they can sequence till their heart’s content.
I explained this concept to my design brains (Ed Watt at Ostreet) whereupon he presented me with a flattened forest of paper and card. Designers love that kind of thing. We sighted the muted tones of Fedregoni paper and I thought it sounded like a sports car brand so we went with that.
The box card was de-bossed at a local family-run firm to complete the personal, handmade finish. Glasgow press are renowned for their expertise across decades. Outside the workshop lies a vast graving dock, now derelict, from the city’s industrial past when ships were made by hand with skill and sweat and love. The workshop retains that spirit with antique drawers full of wood and metal font blocks lining the walls. At the back of the hall is the chattering and hissing pressing machine overseen by the staff. The process is hypnotic and rhythmic with the occasional irregularity. Less problematic perhaps than most IOS updates but the staff are on hand at every moment. The pigment tone is judged by eye then applied to the smoothing rollers that lick the impression before it is pressed (or rather slammed) into the card.
The flat box is fllicked away into a neat stack by a metal arm. A human arm then removes the cut template and hand folds the box to store the sequenced images. The paper equivalent of an espresso, a little shot of photographic pleasure.
*Note: 12 has been the standard for competitions, which is why its comes as a shock that World Press photo have this year made it 10 photos. To saves the judges time and prevents the culture of over-share, I presume.
to buy little shots go to the shop.behind the photo stories tearsheets share:
Melting permafrost and coastal storms are destroying a trove of Eskimo artefacts from the 14th-17th centuries in Nunalleq, four hundred miles west of Anchorage, Alaska.
Dr Rick Knecht of the University of Aberdeen and his team have over 20,000 items to sort through, filling cool boxes and drawers from floor-to-ceiling in his lab. Archaeologists on the dig have each found a museum-quality piece everyday, on typical digs they would be happy to find one in a whole season.
To make life easier for the shoot, Rick opened a drawer of items, already tagged and preserved. They were perfect in detail and craft- walrus ivory rings, caribou harpoon points and driftwood ceremonial dolls. Tupperware boxes contained wooden items, still damp and awaiting preservation. In the drawer, a grid of smaller boxes each held individual treasures for the photographer to choose.
I was delighted by the faces on wooden dolls. Each could represent a specific relative unable to travel to events, or they could connect Eskimos with the spirit realm or they were simply used just to keep children entertained. They looked brilliant and only simple light was needed to bring out their animated expressions.
I was drawn to the icons of their prey, miniature beluga and seals carved from antler as tributes of thanks for animals the people had been given for food and material. I introduced the actual-size ceremonial mask which dominated the smaller pieces. By this stage, hours had passed and my knees and back ached from jumping around on the table and the aftermath of football game the night before. I sensed I was getting somewhere so I did a stretch, drank some water and carried on.
Rick's systematic sorting and classification inspired a visual structure to tell the story of village life. My mind wandered. I was day-dreaming about life in Alaska in the 14th century- imagining the gentle weathered hands that carved the animals I held. During the dig, Rick told me, local people would study a piece and the next day bring in a perfect copy someone had carved overnight. The dig team and local community collaborated closely to trace the skills and stories of Eskimo people and ensuring the continuity of artistic skill and culture. Once finished, the artefacts will return to Alaska to a safer home near where they fell.
After centuries locked away in frozen soils, I am thankful these precious artefacts have not been lost to their ancestors or to the wider world.behind the photo on the road process tearsheets share:
The Guardian ran my Gingers last month attracting hundreds of comments on everything from prejudice to photoshop. Most were positive but here were some of my favourites that made me stop and scratch my head.
Should the Guardian be regularly furthering this '-ism'?
Dislike of, or finger-pointing at, red-heads is as divisive and unpleasant as any other -ism. Would you run a piece titled 'pictures of blacks' or 'pictures of peglegs'?
It is discrimination, and unhelpful.
Nice pics, but I find it very odd that they virtually all have exactly the same shade of red hair.
That oddness you sense is from the 50,000 photoshop adjustment layers. The colours are an exaggeration, if not a lie.
He's used a lot of light, presumably to emphasis the paleness of the subjects and fit more with the stereotype, that's likely to wash it out a bit. He may have tweaked the colour afterwards I suppose as well.
I have to say, coincidentally, I saw the first family during the Bank Holiday weekend, at a wedding, and I think the images here, give a very faithful representation of how striking and beautiful their colouring was, in the flesh.
This is a stupid article. Why is the colour of someones hair a category onto itself at all? How is "ginger", so called, different from any other colour in the spectrum?
I can't really work out whether this has anything to do with the upcoming referendum, but it sure as hell is patronising.
That is odd, I thought it was a Lifestyle fluff piece.
You do know you're in the Fashion subsection of the Life & Style part of the paper, don't you? If you want the major world news, go here: http://www.theguardian.com/world
In his change before last, Doctor Who touched his head and said "At least I'm not ginger!". It put me off the writers completely.
What he actually said was "I’m still not ginger".
This was a reference to when Christopher Eccleston's Doctor regenerated into David Tennant and he made a point of asking if he had ginger hair. When told that he didn't he then expressed disappointment, claiming that he had always wanted ginger hair.
What a hugely UK-centic article; Red heads share a world-wide association (bit light on in Asia, Africa and the sub-continent though) and attract different labels in different countries.
Is their any other group of people of whom it is considered ok to refer to them as a foodstuff? Every other example I can think of is considered racist. Ginger didn't use to have this meaning, it turned up in the late fifties and frankly I wish it would piss off.
I believe French people frequently call British people "Le Rosbif" after roast beef. Americans call us Limeys and the Australian name "Pom" is popularly believed to derive from "pomegranate". Alternatively it may have been mixed up with the French name for the Irish - "pommes" from "pomme de terre" or "potato".
After complaints to Advertising Standards in Australia about adverts using "poms" they concluded that the words, in relation to the British, were not offensive.
However I'm pretty sure calling the Irish potatoes would be considered pretty racist.
So there you go.
Australians call the British poms because it's an abbreviation for Prisoner of Mother England. So that's not a food stuff.
Best thing you can do as a ginger man is move out of Britain. You instantly become 10x sexier.
Article taken from CNN.com
Scotland’s independence referendum is looming. And, unusually, among those who will be deciding whether to stay with the United Kingdom or split are Scotland’s 16- and 17-year-olds.
Scottish photographer Kieran Dodds decided to seek them out.
“For the last year, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things to do with the referendum, and obviously one novel fact has been the reducing of the voting age to 16,” said Dodds, who lives in Scotland’s largest city, Glasgow. “So, I thought it would be interesting to speak to young people to see what they are thinking about, to see their different views.”
The young people he photographed are scattered across Scotland— from the remote islands and Highlands to the central belt between Glasgow and Edinburgh, where the devolved Scottish government is based.
“A lot of the independence chatter was about Westminster (the seat of the United Kingdom government in London) being removed from people. But even in Scotland, a lot of Scotland is removed from the government,” Dodds said.
The 16-year-olds he met have all signed up to the BBC’s Generation 2014 project, which brings together 50 young people from across Scotland. So perhaps they are more politically engaged than some.
Nonetheless, Dodds said, “I was surprised by how much everyone knew, and how better informed they were than a lot of the adults around me.”
It’s been an assignment with an unusually personal dimension for Dodds. Not only is it in his native country, but he’s not yet made his own mind up how to vote.
The opinions the teenagers shared have affected his own views, Dodds said.
“I’m still undecided — chronically — so speaking to them informed me of things that I hadn’t thought of or came at from a different angle,” he said.
Some of the teenagers were interested in the history of the issue, others in the politics, he said. “I was amazed by how much they engaged with it.”
Many pointed out that they could have families or get married at the age of 16, so why shouldn’t they have a say over their nation’s most pivotal moment in centuries?
The photographs, taken over a three-month period this summer, are intended to show the young people in a setting that reflects their diversity of background and views.
Some are picture-postcard Scottish, posed against the backdrop of lochs or heather-covered hillsides. Others show a more urban or domestic side of Scottish life.
Similarly, the young people themselves reflect a Scotland far more varied and complex than the stereotypical, if very different, images popularized in movies like “Braveheart” or “Trainspotting.”
“I think some people assume everyone is white with ginger (red) hair — and it’s trying to show that there is diversity in Scotland and people think it is great to come and live here,” Dodds said.
In his images, Dodds said, he was trying to give a sense of a “state of the nation” in the ordinary life and everyday things of those in Scotland.
Teachers are not supposed to sway their students’ vote, so much of the debate is taking place outside the classroom, in homes, drama groups, sports clubs and other places where teenagers come together.
Dodds saw a handful of those he spoke to change their position from “undecided” as the vote came closer and their views crystallized.
One girl he photographed, Natalie Curran, is blind. She used a striking bathtub metaphor to tell why she will be voting no to independence.
“The thing is, we all live in our own little bubbles but we are all in the same bathtub so we should all stay together— rather than trying to put a divide between us,” she said. “Scotland is the water, bubble bath is the English and the Welsh are the soap/shampoo.”
Another teenager, Andrew Hanton, explained that he’ll be voting for independence because he feels so disconnected from London.
“It's a great disadvantage having a government hundreds of miles away governing its people,” he said.
Whatever the outcome of the referendum, Scots are agreed that life will never be quite the same again. Even if the vote goes against independence, party leaders in Westminster have promised to hand over greater powers on taxation and social welfare to Scotland’s politicians.
For Dodds, “the debate over the past year or two has been amazing because it’s told us so much about what it means to be Scottish, but also what we want this country to be.
“Even this idea of freedom that keeps coming up because of “Braveheart,” what does it mean? I sense we want a country where that diversity of opinion can be expressed, and at the moment there’s a kind of frustration because people feel they are not being heard.”
He believes the debate is healthy for the whole of the United Kingdom — and that perhaps those elsewhere would also benefit from thinking about what it means to be British.
At the same time, Dodds himself feels desperately torn.
“The more I think about it, the more the weight of the decision presses on me,” he said.
Has this pressure affected his photographs of his 16-year-old subjects, who are about to exercise their democratic rights for the first time on this crucial issue?
“Hopefully it’s made my pictures better because I understand them more,” Dodds said.
by Laura Smith-Spark, CNNbehind the photo interview motivation stories share:
In deciding between Yes and No, Scottish voters are bombarded daily with a plethora of authorities. Celebrities, academics and business leaders are used to trump or extend rational arguments. "David Bowie said NO should vote NO". "Mrs Businessleader said YES so you should too".The voice of the everyday person is lost in the glitzy soundbite.
This short film considers the views of William Wallace, Scotland's greatest authority on independence and freedom, through the everyday namesakes living in the country.
Unicorns are so common in Scotland that people don’t notice them. They try to get our attention by standing on two feet, with shaggy manes and even sticking their tongues out. They are so everyday that it has taken me three decades to notice they are everywhere. Then an American journalist mentioned, in passing, the fact that unicorns are the national beast of Scotland and I immediately began my search.
I soon discovered they may be magical and mythical but unicorns are not trivial. You can find them in buildings across the country in councils and court rooms, schools and even bakers (by royal consent). There are literally millions of the beasts being magically invisible on the front of passports up and down the United Kingdom.
If independence does happen the unicorn is in danger of going extinct. Already the Scottish office has replaced the coat of arms (a lion and unicorn) with a simple, modern saltire. In this letter-headed mass extinction they have reduced the unicorn population by tens of thousands. And even have the cheek to prescribe the Pantone colour for saltire blue! Heraldry is dead!
Unicorns were ubiquitous and conspicuous in past centuries, appearing on royal insignia, shields and anywhere power was exerted. Two were resident on the royal branding until the Union of Crowns in 1603 when James IV of Scotland also became James I of England. He expanded the Unicorn's population over the border as an equal partner to the English Lion on the new coats of arms. He also commissioned a world famous Bible which hosts nine cameo appearances from the unicorn. This was a heyday for the Scottish unicorn.
In the country they sat atop the Mercat crosses at the very centre of civic life as well as being the symbol of royalty. From kings to paupers the unicorn's gaze was ever upon you.
I remembered that in Dundee there is a ship called the Unicorn. The war-frigate is moored beside some new build houses in the waterfront dock overlooked likes the beast itself. The figurehead is perhaps Scotland’s largest unicorn- a six-foot high beast gleaming in the sunlight of Scotland's sunniest city.
I called the ship and spoke to Bob. He soon told me I was too late and I had missed the picture. The unicorn had been removed and renovated and he said it would have made great pictures two years ago! I was about to hang up when Bob told me about his unicorn on wheels. A unicorn on wheels! I gasped. Then he made another passing remark about the workshop. The workshop? I gasped. Yes, the workshop where Peter makes the unicorns. Peter, I quickly reasoned, must be some reclusive magician-like carpenter from Narnia. I hung up and called the Peter who was from Blairgowrie as it happened, not Narnia.
What follows is the actual transcript of that phonecall.
“Hi Peter, this might sound odd but I am looking for unicorns”
“My life is unicorns!”
I had found my unicorns. Watch The National Beastie.
"The true state of every nation is the state of common life. The manners of the people are not to be found in the schools of learning, or the palaces of greatness, where the national character is obscured or obliterated by travel or instruction, by philosophy or vanity; nor is public happiness to be estimated by assemblies of the gay, or the banquets of the rich. The great mass of nations is neither rich nor gay: they whose aggregate constitutes the people, are found in the streets, and the villages, in the shops and farms; and from them collectively considered, must the measure of a general prosperity be taken."
Samuel Johnson 'Journey to the Western Isles of Scotland' 1775
Dr Johnson, one of the world's greatest diarists, launches into this flourish of brilliance after a comment on the poor-quality of windows in the north east of Scotland. His small observation expands our vision to wider horizons. In this book he does also comment on 'the banquets of the rich' and is well versed in the philosophy of the day but he emphasises the need not to overlook significant detail. Johnson reminds us to focus on the everyday, or the 'common life'. That is a sentiment I try and emulate in my work but there is a great temptation to go for the big events.
To all photographers, writers and other artists trying to make sense of their country in significant times please read this and learn. Maybe my bias is the opposite and I need to learn to attend more banquets of the rich? All invitations welcome.