Stories

Everyone loves a good story.

Stories are at the heart of our social and cultural heritage. No matter where we’re from, we all grow up listening to stories and passing them on. They’re an intrinsic part of the social landscape; from religious beliefs and dogma to popular culture and art, stories are at the core of human communication. And when it comes to sharing important information, storytelling is one of the most useful and powerful tools we have.

When we share images online we tell stories. We’re sharing our experiences with the world through a visual narrative. For example the images below from a weekend spent sailing with old friends earlier this year. The images combine to offer a short story that describes the experience.

 
 

Many stories follow a tried and tested formula and are intended to inform, educate, or entertain. They often depict journeys as metaphores for transformation or personal development. Not all stories are complete however, just as not all stories carry a responsibility to take a moral stance or make the world a better place. Some are simple tools that deliver a simple message, as in advertising or promotion, and it’s the means of that delivery - the story - that help the message succeed in finding its target. Of course the better the story, the more likely people are to remember it.

The most successful advertising campaigns often rely on comical or emotive narratives in order to engage their audience in this way. Similarly, company websites, marketing and promotional materials, even annual reports or promotional brochures all employ a visual narrative in order to get people’s attention and deliver their message.

Storytelling using stills images can take many forms: it can be a single, compelling image or a series of images taken over a period of time. A small collection of images can be used to showcase a process, a practice, or a product. No matter how simple or complex the narrative, photographic images provide an invaluable means of reaching your target audience.

Stories aren’t necessarily conclusive, they can be open-ended and form a small part of a wider, on-going narrative. For example the images below of skateboarders at the Undercroft at London’s Southbank Center don’t tell the complete story of urban skateboarding subculture; what they do is present a snapshot of that subculture, part of a much wider, on-going narrative.

 
 

Sometimes all it takes is a few images that represent an action or a process. I recently took an antique clock for repair and the small, atmospheric shop was so photogenic that I asked if I could take a few pictures when I came to collect it. The pictures tell a little story about the craftsman in his workshop. These pictures don’t offer a complete story, but there are details in them that provide clues which prompt us to develop our own interpretation.

 
 

Other stories of course carry a much greater responsibility. There is an established tradition of documentary photography which carries an implicit duty to represent its subject matter with honesty and integrity. The stories that I’ve tried to tell through my own work have been made as honestly as possible, with empathy and respect for my subjects.

There are instances where visual storytelling is by necessity more representative than actual documentary. For an awareness campaign highlighting real lived experiences of young people facing issues of homelessness the charity I was working with, CentrePoint hired young models to portray the true stories being depicted, in order to protect the privacy of the people behind them. While the resulting images could be interpreted as less than authentic, they nevertheless communicate a very real truth. Protecting people’s identities in this way shouldn’t detract from their stories.

 
 

As a photographer, my interest has always been in telling stories. Even when I’m taking corporate headshots, making environmental portraits or photographing food or product, I believe there is always an element of storytelling involved. It is, in my opinion, implicit in the very nature of photography.

If you want me to help tell your story, please get in touch.

Architectural Photography

Like most things in photography, architectural photography isn’t as easy as it seems. When we look at photos we often think “I could do that” and it’s no different with architecture. I often find that people take pictures of buildings as a way of easing themselves in to street photography. It’s not uncommon to feel nervous about photographing strangers in the street so even though that’s actually what people often want to do, they retreat in to the apparently easier option of simply photographing the buildings they see. This is often a stage in the process of someone’s development in exploring their areas of interest as well as finding their confidence as a photographer.

However, I think it’s hugely beneficial if you can identify your interests early on and focus your energy on specific genres with a clear idea of your own aims. If your interest is street photography and shooting people, then that’s the skillset and style you should develop. If you’re genuinely interested in photographing buildings and architecture, then you need to think about approaching your subject matter in a very different way to how you would shoot on the street.

Architectural photography is all about scale, perspective and design in my opinion. But that’s not to say the detail should be overlooked as there’s plenty of interesting stuff if you look closely.

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One of my favourite locations to take pictures of interesting buildings is in the City of London. With a rich architectural history that reflects the fascinating social history of this area, it is full of architectural gems, both old and new. Especially when it comes to tall buildings and skyscrapers, the obvious perspective is to look up as in the shot above of the Lloyds building and it’s neighbours the Leadenhall Building and the Aviva Tower. The same applies to many of the older buildings in the City. Indeed, this is a perspective that can easily be overlooked but can offer some unexpected and often rewarding surprises, often in the form of hidden statues or sculptures. Below are a few examples of some great, often overlooked architectural details in the City of London.

Gargoyle on the roof of a building, City of London

Gargoyle on the roof of a building, City of London

Ariel statue at Tivoli Corner, City of London

Ariel statue at Tivoli Corner, City of London

Dragon on top of a column in Leadenhall Market, City of London

Dragon on top of a column in Leadenhall Market, City of London

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Photographing architecture can also present fantastic opportunities for both black and white and abstract images. The forms and lines within architectural design can be subject matter within themselves, as in the image to the left. But more often they are compositional elements leading the eye through a frame to a particular point of interest, as in the image to the right where the S shaped curve draws the viewer to the figure at the bottom of the frame.

Looking for the relationships between forms can be a useful way to add interest. In both of the these images, I’ve tried to juxtapose the smooth curves in the foreground with the more regimental, rigid formality of the buildings in the background.

In both these images, the conversion to Black and White has also helped in removing any distractions which colour can represent. The overcast sky also adds little value in these shots so is best used as a blank canvas against which the architecture is the main focus.

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The inclusion of a figure adds scale and the shadows and branches help frame the building

The inclusion of a figure adds scale and the shadows and branches help frame the building

One thing that I find interesting when it comes to discussions about defining certain genres in photography is how opinions can differ so hugely. I once met someone on a workshop I was running who told me about a landscape workshop they had previously been on. The photographer running that workshop had said that as soon as an image contained a person, he no longer considered it a Landscape Photograph. Of course, everyone has their own way of doing things but I personally don’t go in for such strict definitions. In fact, when it comes to Landscape, and possibly even more so Architecture, my personal preference is to include people. Architecture is after all designed by and for people and the built environment would be pretty sterile and lifeless if there were no people interacting with it. Including people gives a sense of scale and forms a connection with the built environment on a subconscious level.

Arguably, the inclusion of people starts to veer towards Street Photography in terms of style and genre. But like most things photographic, there is the potential for things to overlap and cross over between genres. That’s why I tend to avoid overly strict definitions and encourage people to define their own work in a way that makes sense to them.

I run workshops and also guided walks around the City of London which focus mainly on Street Photography but are also great opportunities for Architectural Photography

The slow shutter speed adds a sense of business as the people move through this walkway in the Docklands

The slow shutter speed adds a sense of business as the people move through this walkway in the Docklands

The lone figure framed by the futuristic design adds a sense of scale

The lone figure framed by the futuristic design adds a sense of scale

Legacy - RIP John Downing OBE

When I meet a new group of people on one of my photo workshops, I sometimes start by asking if they have any favourite photographers. Depending on the nature of the workshop, people sometimes mention one or two names I’m familiar with, but often they come out with names I’ve never heard of, usually people they follow on Instagram who have a large social media following but aren’t necessarily what I would call ’Big Names’ in photography.

When I say ‘big names’, I’m thinking of those people who have been influential in the history of photography or have otherwise left a mark on our collective vision and understanding of the world through their work. Each photographic genre contains many such names and depending on your interest you may be more familiar with some than with others. I could reel off a long list of my own favourite photographers, across various genres whose work inspires me but it would probably be easier just to say ‘Magnum’ or ‘National Geographic’.

There are however those photographers whose names and work are largely unrecognised by anyone not closely involved in, or with an interest in photography. Photographers who in the course of their daily lives record the world and global events simply as part of their job, people who inform us about the wider world and show us things beyond the confines of our own experience. I’m referring of course to press photographers.

There are many hugely talented press photographers working around the world who produce stunning work on an almost daily basis, men and women who often put their own safety, even their own lives at risk, simply to report global events and in so doing shape our understanding of the world. I have no doubt that the world’s greatest press photographers belong to that group of men and women whose work has been influential in the history of photography.

It was one such photographer in particular to whom I owe my own passion for photography: John Downing, the former Chief Photographer of the Daily Express, whose book Legacy was published in Autumn 2019 by Bluecoat Press.

When I was a kid, growing up in the 70’s my best friend at school was John Downing’s son. When I went to visit him at his house, John would often be there and I loved spending time with him and listening to the stories he told. His seemed to be a life of passion, adventure and danger, fused with a deep understanding of the world and events that were happening across the globe, especially conflicts - John covered a lot of conflicts in his long career, indeed I seem to remember him often being referred to as a “war photographer”. He was what I thought of as the “cool dad” among those parents I knew from my peer group. He was always friendly, welcoming and very generous with his time, with a great sense of humour a good taste in music.

When he wasn’t at home with his family, he was usually on assignment across the other side of the world, often working in extremely difficult or dangerous circumstances, photographing in war zones, or documenting other significant news stories, typically involving tragedy or human suffering. He covered most major wars, including Vietnam, East Pakistan/Bangladesh, Rhodesia, Beirut, Iraq, Somalia, Rwanda, Croatia, and over a dozen visits to Bosnia. During one of several trips to Afghanistan, he spent nearly six weeks with the Mujahideen during the Soviet/Afghan war in the 1980’s. He was beaten and imprisoned by Idi Amin’s soldiers in Uganda. He was inside the Grand hotel in Brighton in 1984 when the IRA exploded a bomb in an attempt to kill the Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.

I remember him showing me some of his work and explaining it to me when I was in my early teens. There was one photograph in particular that stayed with me. It wasn’t anything particularly harrowing or distressing but it was still a powerful image. It was of a simple peasant village somewhere in Southeast Asia. There was a large banner advert for some typically iconic Western consumer product displayed above the ramshackle huts and John explained the juxtaposition of the poverty of the villagers with the aspirational lifestyle promised by the product being advertised. The nature of that narrative, indeed the notion that there is narrative within an image at all had a tremendous impact on me at that time and is still something I aspire to within my own work wherever possible.

John was a master of using natural light and his photography made me think about light in a different way. It made me realise how much impact light can have on an image, how it can dictate the mood and overall feel of a shot. More significantly though, John’s work showed me how important an image can be in representing people and informing viewers. His work introduced me to the idea of thinking critically about visual communication, but above all it helped frame my understanding of a complicated world in ways that other media often can’t.

In 1990 he was one of the first journalists to visit the site of the nuclear power station disaster in Chernobyl in what is now Ukraine. Despite reassurances from the authorities that he wasn’t at risk, he was exposed to high levels of radiation and although no direct link can be proven, there is a high probability that his recent diagnosis with terminal lung cancer was a direct result of that visit. In his dedication to his work, to report on significant global events and their impact on people’s lives, he risked his own.

It is with great sadness that I learned that he passed away on the morning of 8th April 2020.