The RPS Women in Photography (WIP) Group’s objective is to facilitate the celebration, education and collaboration of female and female-identifying photographers. We are not a genre. These are our stories. We are the discussion that drives a greater awareness of women photographers past, present and future.
Membership of the WIP group is available exclusively to RPS members. Visit our website for more information about who we are, what we do and how to join.
rps.org/groups/women-in-photography
Front cover - Clare Park Dorota Rapacz, Sculptor
Back cover - Gabriella Muttone I Love U
IN THIS ISSUE
FEATURES
By Sujata Setia
By Vicky Martin
By Emma Boittiaux
By Jo Dorothea-Smith
By Gabrielle Motola
By Monika Mabiki
By Ania Rolińska
Distorted Bodies
By Sophie Ellen Lachowycz
By Shamani Surendran
By Margaret Mitchell
By Fran Monks
By Sinead Le Blond
From the editor p 6
By Rachel Nixon
VIEWFINDER
To Shine a Light exhibition p 10
Six female photographers at the RPS
One Thing I Know p 19
What photography has taught us
Favourite Photobooks .......... p 24
Recommendations from our members
PROFILES
FEATURES ...... p 29 - 160
PROFILES p 161 - 180
September cover photo runners-up p 182
Allie Crewe ARPS by Christina Osborne Student Focus
Stefania Distante by Christina Osborne
FROM THE EDITOR
Hello!
My time at school is a distant memory, but I still think of September as a “new year” — an opportunity to start again, and for fresh perspectives.
In this, the “September issue” of WE ARE Magazine, I hope you’ll find much to inspire you. In the wonderful work of our contributors you’ll encounter new ways of looking at the world around us, and perhaps of considering your own situation. No matter the subject, there’s something particularly personal about the making of photography — and of viewing it.
As Natalie Persoglio says in our feature One Thing I Know: “All your childhood learnings, perspective, experiences, even your mood, state of mind, or thoughts in the second you press the shutter are imbued in the image you make. You can’t hide yourself in photography – it’s a mirror and a reflection of yourself as a human being.”
Among the realities and perspectives to appreciate here, you might have already come across Sujata Setia’s brilliant, ongoing series A Thousand Cuts , which shines a light on domestic abuse within the South Asian community in the UK. She shares a behind-the-scenes look at this important interdisciplinary work. Elsewhere, Vicky Martin uses striking and witty portraiture to turn the gendered narratives of fairy tales on their head.
Documentary photographer Margaret Mitchell thoughtfully describes how she went about making As The Day Closes, in which she explores the stories of people who have been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Inspired by her own experiences, Monika Mabiki connects with women of colour who find solace in nature, and creates breathtaking images of rejuvenation and liberation. And if, like me, you didn’t
know much about infrared photography, you’ll find that Gabrielle Motola is probably the best person to fill you in and dispel a few myths about how it can look. There are many more pieces besides, and I wish I had room to mention them all here.
New team — and a new look
There is much that is new about the magazine itself. First and foremost, I’m delighted to welcome a fantastic team alongside myself and Alice Chapman. This powerhouse group of volunteers has worked tirelessly to show all the material in its best light. Let me introduce you to: Liz Benjamin, designer; copy editors Miranda Gavin and Victoria Medina; and proofreaders Isabelle Desgranges, Jane Robb, and Victoria Robb. I’m grateful to all of them for their efforts to create this issue. You can learn more about the team online.
You’ll also notice the magazine has a new look. The talented Liz Benjamin has excelled in building on the original design and made subtle yet important updates to help the articles sing. Updated typefaces, fresh layouts, generous amounts of white space and some new motifs tie it all together. Look out for some ingenious uses of boxes that are far from square.
Be a part of this
We’ve introduced some hopefully regular, collaborative features to the magazine to make it easier to participate. My favourite is One Thing I Know, in which readers share a valuable lesson they’ve learned through photography. No matter where you are on your journey — just getting started or a longtime pro — it shows that photography can always teach us something important about ourselves and the world around us. Beyond this, we’re featuring
“No matter the subject, there’s something particularly personal about the making of photography — and of viewing it.”
readers’ recommendations for photobooks by female photographers. I was pleased to find some old favourites alongside new discoveries.
Wanting to call attention to a new generation of photographers, we’ve launched the feature Student Focus in which we profile a current or recent student. And in Path to Distinction, we’re starting to shed light on what it takes to receive an RPS distinction — and hope to profile a recent recipient every issue from now on. Thank you to Christina Osborne for this issue’s articles on Stefania Distante and Allie Crewe. If you’d like to share your own story as a recent student, or as a distinction recipient, please get in touch at wipmagazine@rps.org
Congratulations to cover photo competition winners Clare Park and Gabriella Muttone whose stunning imagery is featured on the front and back covers respectively. Well done also to the runners-up, whose images you will find inside these pages. We received 67 entries to our cover competition this time around; thank you to everyone who took the time to share their work. I’m grateful also to Women in Photography Chair Sue Wright for running the competition.
Lastly, if you’re in the UK and not too far away from Bristol, may I suggest a visit to the RPS to take in the To Shine A Light exhibition? It features the work of six contemporary female photographers, three of whom are members of the Women in Photography group: Trish Crawford ARPS, Caroline Fraser ARPS and (full disclosure) yours truly. You can read more about that in this issue, too.
I hope you enjoy this September issue — and if you get the chance, take a minute to let your favourite photographers and writers know what you appreciate
about their work. It takes a lot to put yourself out there, and I thank each of these phenomenal women who have shared their stories and artistic vision.
Have an enriching autumn, and happy reading.
Rachel Nixon Editor, WE ARE Magazine
Clockwise, from top left, WE ARE Magazine volunteers: Liz Benjamin, Alice Chapman, Isabelle Desgranges, Miranda Gavin, Victoria Medina, Rachel Nixon, Dr. Jane Robb, Victoria Robb
Shining a light on six artists
A wide-ranging exhibition at the Royal Photographic Society in Bristol, UK features the work of six contemporary female photographers, including three members of the RPS Women in Photography group.
The Royal Photographic Society has curated a new exhibition showcasing the work of six female artists who use photography to shine a light on themselves to further understanding and engagement.
The exhibition, To Shine a Light / Who Dared to Dream, features projects which explore personal
stories and histories or seek to effect wider change by raising awareness.
The theme is inspired by photographer Joy Gregory HonFRPS’ new book, Shining Lights: Black Women Photographers in 1980s–90s Britain, which brings together the innovative and diverse work of 57 photographic artists.
To Shine a Light / Who Dared to Dream exhibition at the RPS Gallery
Selected artists
To Shine a Light / Who Dared to Dream is on view at the RPS Gallery in Bristol, UK until 29th September, 2024. The photographers selected for the exhibition are Fion Hung-Ching Yan, Tasha Hylton and Ayesha Jones, and RPS Women in Photography group members Trish Crawford ARPS, Caroline Fraser ARPS, and Rachel Nixon
Their projects cover a variety of themes: Medical conditions and the physical and mental impact on individuals; the environmental impact of discarded plastic on our beaches; society’s negative views of older women; an exploration of love and feelings; and a rediscovered family album as a key to understanding the artist’s parents.
The artists use various approaches including documentary, conceptual, self-portraiture, landscape and the layering of images and AI-generated details. Learn more about each artist and their work, and find out how to view the exhibition.
Trish Crawford is a Canadian photographer based in the Niagara region of Southern Ontario. Her work looks at family, place of origin, women’s lives, and the intersection of rural and urban life.
A self-described urban native, Crawford is drawn to the countryside. Her exhibited project, Cicada, combines contemporary images with vintage family photographs dating back to the 1920s, probing the enduring bonds between kin and the countryside.
Crawford’s parents came from rural backgrounds and despite deep roots in the country, they wanted a life in the city. Their urban adulthoods betrayed remnants of rural roots during visits to ancestral farms. Crawford could never really “see” them there. For both, the romanticised simplicity of rural life clashed with the realities of wartime upbringings.
While clearing out her parents’ home after their deaths, Crawford found albums of forgotten photos that she had never seen and revealed sides of her parents she never knew. By combining them with photographs she makes in the countryside
near her home, she attempts to unravel stories of her parents’ youth, the influences that shaped their identities, and the enigmatic figures captured in the faded photographs.
While photographing for this work, a serendipitous encounter with a moulting cicada mirrored her parents’ transformations, shedding their rural origins while remaining tethered to their essence.
Caroline Fraser’s photography is a response to the beauty and infinite variety of nature, coupled with a concern for the environment. Her quiet representations of mood and location place an emphasis on the intimate details within nature, using abstraction and layering. Multiple exposures add depth and complexity to her work.
Fraser’s love of remote landscapes has taken her to the highlands of Scotland, Iceland, New Zealand, Greenland, and many times to Vancouver where her children now live. She adds meaning to her work by combining images and words in limited edition handmade books.
Her featured series, Shore, consists of works created using photographs of natural and found images from the seashore at Camber Sands in East Sussex, UK. The images are intended to suggest petri dishes highlighting the detritus found on the shore. They are made using multiple layers, both in-camera and via the digital darkroom.
Fraser proposes: “What if the shore was just the beach, and no one could tell we had been?”
She works from her studio in Rye, UK where she runs hand-made book and photobook-making workshops, both in-person and online. carolinefraser.org
Fion Hung-Ching Yan is a visual artist, researcher, and art educator, currently teaching in Hong Kong. In her practice, she works primarily in staged photography and photo collage, presenting them as installations and books. Her work challenges the nature of humanity, inspired by the traditional stereotypes she has encountered as a woman in Chinese society, family trauma, and conflicts with others in daily life.
Hung-Ching Yan is studying the discredited concept of eugenics and how it influences society’s treatment and understanding of disabilities, especially for those who inherit genetic disorders, under capitalism in the modern world.
Her featured work, The Ruins of Lost Souls, is a series of black-and-white collage images involving the use of generative AI to produce surreal details. It is inspired by research into traditional taboos, body discrimination and the bullying of marginalised people. It is also a visual response to how her family’s health status has impacted her exploration of her own identity and existence. In 2016, Hung-
Ching Yan’s family was diagnosed with Marfan syndrome, a genetic condition that affects the body’s connective tissue.
The only family member to receive a negative test result, Hung-Ching Yan questioned her identity and place in her family, and in response started exploring the world of abandoned sites. She realised that her uneasiness came from her lack of understanding of these places. Similarly, her uneasiness about her family’s situation came from a lack of understanding of their disease. With her new insights came a means of self-healing.
Tasha Hylton is a Bristol-based photographer with a focus on portraiture and fashion. She brings a passion to capture up close and intimate images of her subjects which helps her build a connection to create strong work. She credits this with helping her to win the British Journal of Photography’s Portrait of Britain award in 2022.
As she grows as a photographer, Hylton aims to spend more time exploring subjects around her personal experiences, race, culture, and identity as a black female photographer.
Hylton’s featured work, BLK L.O.V.E, explores the themes of black love and connection.
She says: “It is a form of expression from myself as I share the feelings I want to feel. They are an expression of a healing process for myself as I navigate away from my past to my future…
“This is how I want love to look & feel like going forward.”
Based in the West Midlands, Ayesha Jones works mainly with photography and film and is interested in art as a catalyst for growth, healing, and social impact. Her work has been exhibited nationally and internationally and has received accolades including Magnum Photos’ and The Photography Show’s 30 Under 30 international award, and the British Journal of Photography’s Portrait of Britain and Decade of Change.
In her new work, The Backbone , she uses idiopathic scoliosis, a spinal deformity, to address societal distortions in relation to femininity, women’s health and the connection between the mind and body.
Idiopathic scoliosis occurs 10 times more often in females than in males. Jones was diagnosed with the condition aged 12 and had spinal fusion surgery at 23, when her spinal curvature had reached 100 degrees. She uses photography
to explore her progressing condition and gain perspective on the ways in which her personal experiences are entwined with wider social issues.
The Backbone includes archive imagery, portraiture, and candid photography of Jones and 10 other women at different stages of their scoliosis journeys. The Royal Orthopaedic Hospital, where Jones had her surgery in 2014, has supported her in making new work for this project.
The Backbone is also supported by Arts Council England and GRAIN Projects.
A British-Canadian fine art photographer and former journalist, Nixon explores issues such as a desire for connection with one’s heritage, as well as secrecy, isolation, and memory. Intrigued by the visual poetry of daily life, she seeks out images speaking to beauty and broader messages in the seemingly mundane.
Nixon retrained as a photographer after a 20year career as a journalist and news executive for organizations including the BBC, CBC and Microsoft. She combines her editorial and photographic experience in her volunteer role as the Editor of WE ARE Magazine, the publication of the RPS’ Women in Photography group.
Her project, A Song Yet To Be Sung , seeks to challenge Western norms of female beauty and perfection, triggered by her experience as a woman entering the second half of life. Made during a period of self-reflection in southern France, it reframes middle age and menopause as an intriguing gathering of experiences developed over time – and continuing to evolve.
The series is a rebuttal to the prevailing enforced invisibility of women in mid-life and beyond. It serves to refute incessant messaging surrounding middle age and online advertising for products targeting menopausal “flaws”. The work instead reimagines female mid-life through a set of close-up images that combines self-portraits with captures of mundane nature and everyday life.
Nixon lives and works in Vancouver, on the west coast of Canada.
Find out more about To Shine a Light / Who Dared to Dream from the RPS.
The exhibition is at RPS Gallery in Bristol, UK until 29th September, 2024. The gallery is open Thursday to Sunday from 10am to 5pm.
Admission is free, but you can register for tickets
The RPS is located at: 337 Paintworks, Arnos Vale, Bristol, BS4 3AR.
See the Visitor Guide for information on getting to the gallery.
With sincere thanks to Billy-Jay Stoneman, curator & exhibitions manager at the RPS, for the comprehensive exhibition information, and to Dr Michael Pritchard FRPS, consultant to the RPS, for the images of the installed exhibition.
ONE Thing I Know
Photography has taught me that inspiration can come from dark places. I learned how to use a camera just before my 50th birthday. It was a hobby for a couple of years, but then in late 2021 I developed ME/ chronic fatigue syndrome. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck. I couldn’t work.
I was so tired the only thing I was able to do every day was to take my camera to my local park, sit on a bench and watch birds flying over a lake. Losing myself in the moment, watching how birds cooperate, fight, and play, helped me forget myself.
Trying to capture with my camera what I saw and felt was exciting, and I kept going, visiting parks, the sea, anywhere I could sit in nature with my camera.
Very gradually I began to build up my stamina enough to be able to take on small portrait commissions. I’m still building my strength, and my practice. I’m learning to let go of the idea of what my life “should” be like, but I’m discovering new riches I could never have dreamed of before.
Julia
Hawkins London, UK juliahawkins.com
Photography can bring unique insights on how we live and work, how we see ourselves, and how we interact with others. We asked you to share a valuable lesson you’ve learned about life, art, and the wider world from your practice as photographers — and your replies were truly inspiring and enlightening.
I came to photography many years ago in search of freedom of expression. I have always been looking for a harmonious composition. At first I photographed empty streets in the reflections of shop windows or unexpected geometric combinations between an object and its surroundings. At some point, I myself became this object, and self-portraits were born.
When I look through the viewfinder, I form the background, middle and foreground of the photo. I find that before I take out the camera and observe everything around me, it seems like chaos. But the moment I press the shutter button, in the photograph itself, it all forms an unexpected order, everything finds its place, interacts and touches, and this is how my composition is built.
I think this is very important because it is a principle that really helps in life to understand difficult situations. Look at your chaos, as if from the outside. This is what I do now — I look at everything through the viewfinder.
Anastasia Potekhina ARPS
Oroklini, Larnaca, Cyprus instagram.com/nassavva
I’ve learned through photography that it acts as my mind’s eye. I depend on photos to remember the visions that my brain cannot hold. In my practice, photography and art help me to observe how my aphantasic brain works. Through that process, I am also creating an open platform for neurodiversity, changing perceptions, and telling different stories.
My relationship with photography began when I used the camera as a healing tool during my nervous breakdown, and now it helps me to put the pieces of the puzzles together.
Mina Boromand London, UK minaboromand.com
Photography has taught me that taking a photograph creates an indelible backup image in my brain that lasts much longer in my long-term memory stores than if I had simply witnessed the moment without using my camera to capture it. I can clearly recall a moment decades later when I see a photograph I have taken.
Linda Plaisted Frederick, Maryland, US lindaplaisted.com
Photography has taught me humility. Humility makes me acknowledge my limitations, learn from others, and embrace diverse perspectives. It keeps me more open-minded, empathetic, and respectful. It helps me see my mistakes, seek feedback, and attempt to improve continuously.
When I think I know a few things about photography, humility teaches me that I have much more to learn. Every day, I try to take another step (however small) to push my photographic practice forward. Humility has taught me that learning this art and craft is a life-long journey.
Trish Crawford, ARPS
St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada trishcrawfordphoto.com
It’s a truism that old photos can unlock forgotten worlds for people lost in dementia. A set of prints can be prompts for reminiscence and forgotten joy. But you can’t always know what moods they might unleash.
I sat with my aunt and a bundle of memories in black and white, relatives who had taken her in as a wartime evacuee. She froze; shock and fear written on her face. “Oh
bloody hell,” she said, “they were hard people.”
This was the full force of buried childhood trauma, eight decades on. Thanks to her cognitive impairment, I had no way to help her process the emotions the print had awoken. Facts fade, but moods — they linger.
A picture of her muchmissed spaniel saved the day.
“I know that she’s there in the picture and she’ll be there tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.” Her smile was wistful, but it was a memory of love and joy.
Old photographs have the power to wound and the power to heal: We should use them carefully.
Kate Carpenter
Englefield Green, UK katecarpenter.com
Photography has taught me the value of inclusion and shown me how it can have a positive impact on communities who are poorly represented or marginalised.
Debbie Todd
County Durham, UK debbietodd.co.uk
I am a visual artist and aerial photographer but actually it doesn’t matter what type of photographer you are. Essentially every image you take is in some way a self-portrait. Because at the exact moment you click the shutter, an image is captured, completely unique to you and your vision of the world. I think that is what makes photography so exciting as an art form.
My daughter is also a photographer and we have stood next to each other, photographing the same subject, but her images and mine are so different you would think we were not even in the same location. We have different perspectives, we are each unique in our creative vision and that is so exciting and visually stimulating.
My images are a digital diary of my internal world finding the oxygen of the external. I think that is the same for every photographer. Each image has their own unique fingerprint embedded within. Photography is intensely personal.
“Essentially every image you take is in some way a self-portrait”
— Honey J. Walker ARPS
I’ve been a photographer for more than 20 years, and have learnt a lot of lessons along the way. One of my favourite tools to capture this is what I call my “Marginal Improvements Spreadsheet”. Every time I do a portrait shoot, there is almost always something that I wish I had done a bit better. I might realise this immediately, or later, while I am editing images. When I do, I write a simple sentence or two in a spreadsheet about what I have learnt. It can be really small, or really big, but by writing it down, I am on the way to doing a better job the next time. Then, before I photograph again, I take a look at the spreadsheet as a reminder.
One thing I particularly love is that this practice turns the sinking feeling of wishing I had done better into confidence that I will be less likely to make the same mistakes again. The document is really quite long now. All these marginal improvements have added up over the years, and the spreadsheet makes it clear how far I have come.
Fran Monks Oxford, UK franmonks.com
“It’s a very personal and intimate
Embrace challenges in photography at whatever level you start your photographic
Being of a generation who had to re-learn photography through all the new digital technology, it was a challenge, particularly being an amateur. The transition was a test mentally as a lot of patience and information was required to bring my photography to an enjoyable process, where it is
The basic rules of photography don’t change but equipment and technology have made creativity easier to manipulate without the pressure of financial expense
During the pandemic we looked at ways to occupy time in isolation. This was a pivotal moment for wallowing in all aspects of photography.
Enjoying photography over the years has given me a creative outlet, immense enjoyment, I’ve made friends, travelled and kept my state of mind stable during difficult instagram.com/tejkenya
One thing I know: Photography is about telling stories, revealing emotion through imagery.
The subconscious goes to work when you photograph a scene or a moment; all your childhood learnings, perspective, experiences, even your mood, state of mind, or thoughts in the second you press the shutter are imbued in the image you make.
You can’t hide yourself in photography – it’s a mirror and a reflection of yourself as a human being.
The outliers you choose to leave outside the frame often say as much (if not more) about you than your actual chosen composition. I use photography to explore my own human
condition, to understand life and purpose.
It’s a very personal and intimate experience, much more than pointing and shooting.
As photographers, we have this incredible privilege to make a difference through the stories we tell, and the ability to use our craft to inspire change and provoke thought.
Natalie Persoglio
Manchester, UK instagram.com/natpersogliophotos
Photography has taught me the art of observation by encouraging me to slow down and be present. I realised that photography could be a mindful practice whilst photographing
ONE Thing I Know
underwater; hearing only my breath, being mesmerised by the light dancing across the reef and moving incredibly slowly to ensure I did not miss out on discovering the endless weird and wonderful curiosities of the macro world.
Using a similar mindful approach above water, photography has become a meditative practice. I can immerse myself fully in each moment, be present in nature and attempt to capture in my photographs the essence of our planet’s beauty, power, tranquillity and plight.
Victoria Stokes ARPS
Buckinghamshire, UK instagram.com/victoriastokes. photography
FAVOURITE PHOTO BOOKS
We asked you to recommend a photobook by a female or female-identifying photographer. It’s a way of amplifying these photographers’ voices and helping others to discover their work. Here are this issue’s selections.
I Burn But I Am Not Consumed by Alicia Bruce
Daylight Books
A beautiful and harrowing exploration of the utterly devastating effects the construction of Donald Trump’s golf course has had on the community of Menie in northeastern Scotland, a Site of Special Scientific Interest. In Alicia Bruce’s own words: “This book honours a Scottish coastal community who refused to bow down, sell up, or be pushed around by Donald Trump. It is a document of a remarkable people; they stood up to money, power, and bullying to save their once-protected land and homes from compulsory purchase, a process by which a public authority has the power to take private land for projects deemed in the public interest.”
It is quite literally the most beautifully produced book I have ever seen, which does full justice to her lyrical photographs of this haunting landscape and its remarkable people, whom you will feel you know as you read their own words and see them living their lives. It made me incandescent with rage, and it made me cry. Stunning and unmissable.
Susan Bittker ▪ Edinburgh, Scotland
I Burn But I Am Not Consumed by Alicia Bruce
I Also Fight Windmills - A Literary Photobook by Ania Ready
VIKA Books
This literary photobook is unlike any other photobook I have seen. It combines hauntingly beautiful black and white photography with the largely previously unpublished writings of the subject, Sophie Gaudier-Brzeska.
Sophie’s life was a tragic one, leaving an unhappy family to search for the stability and security that would allow her to write, whilst fighting her own demons.
Sophie’s writings are included in the book as small typewritten inserts — significantly they are on yellow paper. Ania states on her website that having yellow papers in Sophie’s native Poland signified admission to a psychiatric institution. Significant as Sophie’s last few years were spent in an asylum.
The photographs show great empathy for the subject in the author’s visual representation of her life. I felt continually drawn into Sophie’s world, her rage against society, her fleeting moments of happiness, her frustration, and her spiralling mental chaos.
Ania’s extensive research of her subject is brought together at the end of the book as “Sophie’s Story” and includes her thoughts about Sophie, her struggles and her mental condition.
The book is beautifully produced — all in all a wonderful, sensitive, thoughtful body of work and the inspiration to take on a complex subject.
Karen Brickley ARPS ▪ Chipstead, Surrey, UK
Our Lockdown Garden by Ruth Toda-Nation
the mindful editions
I am a follower of Ruth Toda-Nation on Instagram Our Lockdown Garden is a beautifully written and photographed book dedicated to the residents who live/lived in the same assisted living facility as Ruth’s father during the Covid pandemic.
These beautiful and resilient souls showed true resilience, courage, and grace whilst enduring a brutal, unbending government lockdown in the name of preserving their physical health. It speaks to the soul.
Kim Collins ▪ Wichita, Kansas, US
Our Lockdown Garden by Ruth Toda-Nation I Also Fight Windmills by Ania Ready
Faces - The Creative Process Behind Great Portraits by Jane Bown
Collins & Brown
Probably one of my favourite photography books. It’s an autobiographical record of some of Jane Bown’s favourite black and white film portraits taken over 50 years, whilst working for The Observer. It’s the one book I look through several times a year. It takes pride of place within my ever-growing photography book collection. Jane signed it for me in early 2012.
As a photographer of people and place I believe her portraits are deceptively simple. She talks about always finding the right light, often using a stairwell or a pub because she found the light was just right for her love of working at 1/60 and F2.8. Usually taken within a tight timeframe and often with a tight crop because of a messy background, she would’ve been incredibly close to her sitter. The perfect example is her iconic image of Sinéad O’Connor (page 121).
When I’m working on a portrait shoot (often using film) and I find myself in a tricky situation I often think to myself: “What would Jane have done?” I believe she’s one of the finest photographers of our time.
Michaela Simpson ▪ Benton, North Tyneside
Michaela Simpson’s signed copy of Faces by Jane Bown
Faces by Jane Bown
Hold Still | A Memoir with Photographs by Sally Mann
Back Bay Books | Little, Brown and Company
While not a “photography book” per se, this memoir written by brilliant American photographer Sally Mann provides readers with valuable and curious insights into the life, mind, family, and practice of a genius working in large format film photography. It is a great companion to her collection of photobooks that examine history, place, family, growing up, life, and death.
Trish Crawford ARPS ▪ St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada
Members’ photobook library
We’ve gathered a collection of photobooks created by the talented members of the RPS Women in Photography group. Explore a diverse range of captivating visual stories and artistic expressions in this online library
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We would love to see your work if you’ve made your own photobook — it doesn't need to be published or for sale. Please contact wipchair@rps.org to find out more.
Our Lockdown Garden by Ruth Toda-Nation
Hold Still |A Memoir with Photographs by Sally Mann
Please note, this article contains references to instances of domestic abuse, which some may find distressing.
Artist Sujata Setia’s acclaimed interdisciplinary project A Thousand Cuts shines a light on domestic abuse in the South Asian community in the UK. Survivors and their stories take centre stage in a series of powerful portraits transformed by paper cutting. Setia shares an inside look at the work and her process in this interview with Rachel Nixon. WE ARE
A Thousand Cuts: Honouring the stories of abuse survivors
Describe for us your project A Thousand Cuts.
A Thousand Cuts studies patterns of domestic abuse in the South Asian community.
Watching violence unfold in my own home while growing up made me realise that survivors of abuse have been conveniently reduced to a monolithic abstract average within history, public and art spaces. A statistic; a number; an item on a list. Where are our individual voices, if not silenced by the silos of power? The purpose of the series is to bring to the fore these silenced voices.
The first step was to create a “waiting room”, where strangers can just come in and speak with an open mind without fear of judgement or stigma.
Since then it has culminated into a multidisciplinary project where I combine my printed photographs of the survivors with an artistic intervention by making physical cuts on top of the portrait with a knife.
Can you describe your process?
This work is created through participation, research, and visual narrative.
There was no vision board as a precursor to the creation process. It is difficult to follow frameworks when you have significant personal histories and trans-generational trauma to work alongside.
My first challenge was to encourage survivors to come through the door and facilitate conversations.
(Conspiracy of Dreams)
For that, I organised a few workshops with the help of SHEWISE, a UK-based charity which works with South Asian and Middle Eastern survivors. With
appropriate mental health safeguards, the hope was to give the participants verbal tools to process their stories and find empowering elements within them.
I would interact one-on-one with each survivor before the photo shoot. The theme of the shoot was “Celebration”, recognising the duality of this concept in a South Asian woman’s life on the day of her marriage. How the occasion of celebration underscores the woman’s lack of agency. How the celebration is often not her choice, and nor are its outcomes. Yet at the same time the photo session was also about celebrating her in the way she chooses to be celebrated. So it was a kind of reclamation of her power as well.
I printed the portraits on a thin A4 sheet on my home printer and started making cuts on top of them.
The motifs made through these cuts are a metaphorical representation of the women’s own lived experiences. I would then place red paper behind the print and photograph the final work in a very close crop. Those re-photographed images are what would usually be displayed in an exhibition.
How did you decide to make cuts on the images?
Through multiple iterations. As a portrait photographer specialising in capturing people’s faces and expressions, I was faced with the challenge of protecting my sitters’ identities and yet creating a means for a dialogue between the narrators and the wider public and also an aesthetic experience.
My first attempt is on my website. It’s called Main Mukkamal – “I am enough.” But I felt very uncomfortable with that work. It was entirely me and my personal artistic tools including imagemaking and poetry. I was wielding power. I needed course corrections. So I went back to the drawing board and listened to the survivors’ testimonies over and over again. In their own words, each one of them said to me: “I am torn to pieces from inside.”
I then drew inspiration from the metaphor “death by a thousand cuts” and the South Asian art of paper cutting called Sanjhi Art; historically Sanjhi was created by the Hindu god Krishna’s female consorts to attract his attention, showcasing an inherent power imbalance between genders. I wanted to
create these contemplations of not just abusive lived experiences but also an inquiry into culture. Another reason was that as a survivor myself, I wanted to understand what was in it for the perpetrator.
In the literal act of making cuts and thus destroying the prints, I also embodied the persona of the perpetrator. That helped me understand the perpetrator’s obsession with violence and destruction. There is rhythm in violence. A form of meditation, even.
Do you plan the cuts you’re going to make? Or is it instinctive?
Every element in this work delves into the psychology of the perpetrator. In my experience, abusers inflict violence and coercion with the intent to mould the victim into their desired image. However, there comes a point in the cycle of abuse where even the perpetrator loses control of the victim’s transformation. This resonates with my creative process. While I begin with a plan, the moment the knife meets the paper and the rhythm accelerates, the final form transcends my initial conception.
How did you find survivors willing to be involved in this work?
SHEWISE helped me connect with the survivors. I told the charity I did not have an end goal. It was very important for me to be honest with them and
tell them I didn’t know if or how I would find an audience for this work.
As a survivor myself, I lack the confidence in my own voice. I was conscious of my own vulnerabilities but I felt the only way I could attempt to break the cycle of abuse as an artist was by honouring the stories of the survivors through this work. When I got in touch with the survivors I reiterated: “I don’t know where I’m going with this. So how about we just sit in a room together and talk?”
Each survivor has been very generous with their time and emotional investment in this project. Many times I had to request them for a reshoot because I was unable to do justice to our previous iteration. Some would readily agree. Some would have moved on from the time of our first interaction and so they would choose to unanchor themselves from their abusive pasts. The only mechanism governing the project was that there will be consent, there will be permission, and there will be choice. They choose whether they want to tell their story or not.
(Culture Death)
(Fenced Flight)
(Prisoner of the Prison)
What steps did you take to avoid causing further harm to the participants or retraumatising them?
The first intervention was with the help of SHEWISE who put in place case workers to oversee my interactions with the survivors as I'm not an expert in mental health or in the individual challenges that the women were facing.
Not only is there emotional precarity, the survivors are also involved in legal battles. They have children who have been exposed to severe trauma. Also, while I may lack specialised knowledge, through personal lived experiences of abuse, I have gained understanding of the impact of trauma on the body and brain. So my interactions with the survivors used a trauma-informed care approach to discuss sensitive themes while avoiding discomfort and victim blaming.
It’s a very beautiful piece of work, but it tackles a very ugly subject. You’re creating work, but destroying it at the same time. How do you reconcile those contradictions — do you need to reconcile them?
I don’t. It was a conscious decision to make the work “beautiful”. So beautiful that it almost becomes disgusting, for lack of a better word. In South Asian culture, there is this toxic obsession with the decoration; the “dressing up” of the female form and by extension, the decoration of a woman’s suffering; her grief; trauma and narratives of everpresent subjugation. Grief is a personal journey for women. In public spheres it may be present, but it is never visible. If it is visible, you only see it in its embellished, most beautified form.
In a way then, this work is a commentary on the gendered nature of the public sphere. Hence
the focus on the first public disclosure of a private reality, by upending the act of “decoration” and “beautification” in its visual depiction.
You specialise in portraits, yet we do not see your sitters’ faces in A Thousand Cuts. How did it feel to be making portraits without a face?
It was a struggle. I just couldn’t reconcile in the beginning with the fact that I could not showcase my participant’s face. I would start making cuts and then try to just meander around the face. Then I would go back to the participant and she’d say: “Can you just cover the face with cuts?”
It was also almost feeling this acute anger of having to destroy her all over again. It just kept taking me back to my own lived experiences and the helplessness I felt in my inability to protect my mother while I was growing up.
Ultimately it was imperative for me to turn the narrative around in my own head first by reminding myself that an act of removing is in essence also an act of adding. By removing their identities, a new, more nuanced identity is revealed. Also, it was important to respect their circumstances, whether past, present or those of a plausible future.
Experiences of abuse are a part of their life. It is not all of their life.
As an artist I am acutely aware of the fact that just one photo series will not undo over 5,000 years of intellectual oppression. Women’s voices have for generations been shrouded under a veil of modesty and one cannot remove that veil overnight, nor did I expect that from my sitters. With all these considerations put together, we collectively chose to protect their identities. To be seen yet to be unseen.
continued overleaf
Will you evolve your artistic approach to this work?
It is already evolving. It’s very difficult for me to stick to the A4 paper anymore. With every work I make, in my mind, the dignity and the power of the woman just increases.
The reason for starting with the A4 sheet and using mediums that were available within the home was not only to showcase how violence occurs at home. It was also my fight against the system: why is it that art has to be a property of the privileged, why can’t a working class person with limited resources, create art?
I was also fighting my own lack of self-worth as a woman and as a survivor and this fear that my voice is not important enough to be heard; that our voices are not important enough to be heard. But the more exposure these survivor narratives receive, the more our collective confidence in our own voices is growing.
I don’t think I will ever stop making this work.
What impact has the project had on you overall?
It’s been two and a half years since the inception of this work and it has been through and through a journey of informed recovery for me. I’ve been battling with long-term clinical depression and working alongside other survivors has been instrumental in my healing.
I have found a beautiful circle of sisterhood with other survivors. That lends power to our collective voices. Besides, seeing this work slowly find spaces, seeing these women, these narratives being shared in Somerset House — it was so liberating — for the very first time there are domestic abuse voices, individual women talking about their stories in a place like that.
That in itself lent a lot of confidence to all of us.
Can you describe the purpose of your photographic practice more broadly?
My practice is evolving so fast that sometimes I’m actually scared of putting it into any description box.
I have also realised that my practice has been autobiographical in nature.
(Makings of Past)
“I endeavoured to challenge these binary constructs such as beautiful and ugly, good and bad, able bodied and disabled.”
I started in 2014, a couple of months after my daughter was born and I was diagnosed with depression.
Photography has been a way for me to just talk and say things that I want to say.
My initial work was these fantastical, utopian photographs, which almost did not even look real — of families, of children, of people hopelessly in love — almost like love is the only thing that truly exists in this world.
I got so attracted to that kind of photography because I was trying in a way to wipe out my own lived experiences and find this comfortable utopia where I could just go hide and live.
For several years I created that work until after I lost my mother, which is when my language completely changed.
It took me an entire year to start talking again through the medium of artistic expression. That’s when I started working on the series Changing the Conversation
I started looking for mothers from different walks of life. The first photoshoot in this series was with a girl who had given birth to a 13-pound baby, the second heaviest baby in the UK. As a result, she had endured severe muscle scarring.
But again the series took on a life of its own, without me even realising. Instead of photographing
Portrait of Raiche from Changing the Conversation
just mothers, I ended up photographing people with visible differences.
That work was the first departure from my fantastical portraits. It was around the time my daughter was growing up, battling with the challenges of her being brown, being not perhaps as conventionally beautiful as other children in her school.
Through Changing the Conversation then I endeavoured to challenge these binary constructs such as beautiful and ugly, good and bad, able bodied and disabled. That is again an ongoing series.
Then somewhere along the way, I got the courage to start working on A Thousand Cuts It has been a complete and absolute shift from my previous works. This is the very first work in which I have used photography perhaps just as the foundation.
The actual work comes in through the metaphor that is expressed through artistic interventions.
Going forward, that is the direction my work is taking. It’s becoming interdisciplinary.
How did you reach that evolution?
My work largely focuses on the story of the woman from South Asia yet the themes are universal. I just do not bring other cultural discourses on to the drawing board simply because I want to speak as an insider. When I speak as an insider I do not wield any power over the participants, because I become one with them, which is why I am concentrating on South Asian subaltern histories.
By subaltern histories I mean the unarchived histories. What are the histories that at the time of archiving were left out because they were way too unimportant? Those were the histories of the women.
All of the women you've spoken to live in the UK, but they are of South Asian backgrounds. Does their immigrant identity affect their perspective on abuse?
Absolutely. Immigration is a key theme here but more importantly these personal testimonies have opened up the complex reality of how South Asian lives are still, inescapably folded into the legacy of colonialism.
Every other family in South Asia will have at least one child living in a western country, fiercely holding on to some version of the American dream, yet conveniently leaning into their South Asian roots when the time for marriage approaches. It is a marriage cartel. Parents indoctrinating their daughters into believing in the fantasy of this land far, far away. A Prince Charming who would come from that fantastical land and protect their daughter for the rest of her life.
In one of the survivor testimonies, the woman told me that she always dreamed of living abroad so she compromised by marrying a man twice her age in the hope that since he was older, he would care for her. Her parents were complicit in the realisation of this dream. The man, on the other hand, only wanted “a machine to produce children” and once the children were born, abuse unravelled.
Another survivor with a similar dream got trapped in a marriage where she was treated like a slave at a family-run restaurant of the abuser for which they needed free labour, hence the abuser married a girl from “back home”.
Another survivor lived in an abusive marriage for several years because her partner threatened to get her deported.
Many survivors started learning the English language only once they left the perpetrator’s home. Because the abuser used language as a tool to
Sadiq Khan and Ruth Cadbury MP with the SHEWISE team at the exhibition of A Thousand Cuts at City Hall, London.
Billboard at Canary Wharf. Circles in Sand displayed at Somerset House.
subjugate the victim by forcing her to not assimilate into the ethos of the country… by telling her that she doesn’t need to learn English, he is there to do everything for her.
Immigration is ever-present in the survivor narratives in myriad forms.
I wonder if you had taken a broader approach whether the work would have had quite so much impact.
Artists don't have the luxury of time. We are constantly faced with the query “what are you doing next?” I wish instead I’d be asked “What is your long-term vision for this project?”
I couldn’t as a result take a broader approach with A Thousand Cuts. Taking a broader approach takes time, deeper study of the histories of the survivors who are participating in the project.
That would mean years of research and cultural sensitisation for me to become one with the person whose story is being narrated through the work I make… or I would just be sitting on the fence writing my version of the truth and that would be another violent act of unseeing the survivor. I couldn’t possibly do that.
What advice would you give to up and coming female artists?
Find the narratives that are closest to your heart and you will surely find reflections for them in the outside world.
Start from home.
Home is a complex web of comfort and discomfort, belonging and abandonment, freedom and imprisonment, a sense of security and fear of the unknown. Home is inspiration.
About Sujata Setia
I am an Indian-born British photographer. In 2009, I completed my Master’s in International Relations at King’s College London. I have a background in journalism that informs my research-based, socially engaged practice. I combine traditional artistic interventions and photography to call attention to the boundaries of cultural imperialism, where subaltern histories are exiled.
My ongoing photographic work A Thousand Cuts has received various honours, including the 2024 LensCulture Critics’ Choice Top 10 and winning the Creative category of the Sony World Photography Awards.
I invite domestic abuse survivors of South Asian descent to participate in A Thousand Cuts. Please reach out to me via my email: sujatasetia@icloud.com www.sujatasetia.com
Photographing the invisible
An exploration of infrared photography provides insights into its history, creative uses, and technical tips on making the most of its otherworldly qualities.
“We are blinded by our eyes which give us more illusion than sight.”
— An Equal Difference, 2016
It’s hot, and the sun is high overhead in Miami, Florida. Shadows are beaten black, and the shine of trees is pearlescent white, presenting an exposure predicament. These lighting conditions don’t represent my idea of beauty. I prefer soft, low skies like the ones we have in England. Instead of finding magnificence in what is before me and observing it, I feel frustrated and disinterested in how colour film renders my environment and people’s faces. The same dissatisfaction extends to black-and-white film. I’m forever dodging shadows and burning in highlights, attempting to soften my work. In search of a solution, I lean into the problem and become interested in the super high contrast of Kodak’s HIE black-and-white infrared film.
The term “infrared” comes from the Latin word “infra” meaning “below,” indicating that infrared light has wavelengths longer than visible red light. Infrared light ranges from approximately 700nm
to 1mm, lying beyond the visible spectrum and is invisible to the human eye, while visible light spans wavelengths from around 400nm to 700nm.
Technical mastery of this type of film, however, isn’t straightforward. The first roll I shoot is fogged, and the second is out of focus. It takes me a while to control the technical process. Then there is the real challenge: what do I want to say? The rolls I shoot that year seek to express the inner teenage turmoil I hide from everyone. I make self-portraits in bathtubs, on rocks in Biscayne Bay, and in makeshift studios.
Skin with light pigmentation, like mine, doesn’t reflect infrared light well, rendering me pale and ghostly, which works in my favour. But what I see isn’t pleasing to me. There is an overt self-consciousness and a lack of maturity and mystery that I will still be trying to address in years to come. Frustrated with the technical aspects of infrared film and dissatisfied with my results, I abandon the process. It is 1994.
Title: Visible and Invisible Light
Author: Xyraa
Source: Wikimedia Commons
Right
Self-Portrait (Kodak HIE), 1994
Two decades later, while researching how to convert my digital camera to infrared, I came across Andy Lee’s series, Blue Iceland , which gained widespread attention online. Unlike typical infrared images suffering from screeching hues of cotton candy and crimson, or the overdone fuchsia belch typical of undirected grading, his images are eerie and dreamlike. They add a unique, ethereal quality to the landscape, where their technical proficiency serves the narrative instead of being the narrative.
That year I had my Olympus OM-D E-M5 Mark I converted to a full-spectrum infrared camera. Iceland, already surreal in its natural state, with
the full arc of the sun from low on the horizon to overhead, provided an excellent setting for infrared exploration. The best light for infrared photography is daylight, particularly when the sun is strongest. Iceland’s unique summer light conditions offer nearly 24 hours of daylight, which gave me plenty of time to experiment and fail, further enhancing my understanding and skills in infrared photography.
My background as a video colourist provided insight into colour grading the files, though the process was initially elusive. Infrared colour grading is a bit like making a bed with a sheet that’s slightly too small — just as you get one colour where you want it, another becomes garish or pasty.
Iceland Power Plant (590nm), 2018
A brief history of infrared photography
Infrared photography has an intriguing history that began in the early 20th century. The first known infrared photographs were taken in 1910 by American physicist Robert Williams Wood using experimental film that required long exposures. This early work laid the foundation for using infrared photography in World War I as infrared-sensitive film plates became crucial for the US Army Air Corps, aiding in aerial photography by cutting through atmospheric haze to better identify enemy targets.
In the 1930s, Kodak introduced commercially available infrared-sensitive film, making infrared photography accessible to both amateur and professional photographers. This led to its use in fields, such as astronomy, art restoration, and medical imaging. Infrared photography’s ability
“Iceland, already surreal in its natural state, with the full arc of the sun from low on the horizon to overhead ...”
continued overleaf
Krýsuvík, Iceland (590nm), 2018
to reveal hidden details and penetrate certain materials made it valuable for scientific and artistic applications.
During World War II, the military applications of infrared photography expanded further. Falsecolour infrared film was developed to help detect camouflage, as the chlorophyll in plants would appear distinctly pink in the infrared spectrum. This technology continued to evolve, with infrared photography used for aerial surveillance and other strategic purposes.
The 1960s saw a resurgence in the popularity of infrared photography during the psychedelic movement. Musicians and artists embraced the unique and surreal qualities of false-colour infrared film for album covers and creative projects. However, the interest in infrared photography waned until the advent of digital cameras in the late 1990s, which allowed for easier and more versatile infrared imaging.
Today, digital infrared photography offers higher resolution and greater post-processing flexibility compared to traditional film. Modern digital cameras can be converted for infrared use, making this fascinating medium accessible for various applications, from forensic science to the creative arts.
For a more in-depth history of infrared photography, including its discovery, technical evolution, and various applications, I recommend Alexis Hartman’s article
How it works
Natively, CCD and CMOS sensors are sensitive to ultraviolet and infrared wavelengths. The level of sensitivity varies from sensor to sensor. Typical cameras must be converted to capture infrared light digitally — ideally by a professional. Hot mirrors (or infrared cut filters) are installed to block these wavelengths and ensure the camera focuses on the visible spectrum. The conversion process involves disassembling the camera to access and remove the hot mirror, allowing the sensor to capture infrared and ultraviolet light.
Depending on your desired outcome, installing an infrared-pass filter will allow only specific infrared wavelengths to reach the sensor, known as a narrowband conversion. Alternatively, for a full-spectrum conversion, the hot mirror is
replaced with a clear filter, allowing the sensor to capture ultraviolet, visible, and infrared light. In both cases, external filters control which wavelengths reach the sensor.
These delicate processes require technical skill in disassembling and reassembling cameras
and calibrating them to ensure proper focus and exposure. I strongly advise against attempting this unless you are experienced with camera hardware, as it can easily damage the camera. Additionally, if you have a conversion done, it voids the camera’s warranty.
continued overleaf
Vagar, Faroe Islands (590nm), 2017
Inspirations and comparisons in infrared photography
It’s impossible to discuss infrared photography without mentioning Richard Mosse’s work, such as his Infra series, which used Kodak Aerochrome infrared film to document conflict in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Mosse’s pieces, depicting surreal scenes of soldiers— many posed, some with guns, in vibrant pinks and reds—have impacted the art market, with some prints selling for figures up to and beyond $18,000, according to Artsy
Swiss-Brazilian photographer Claudia Andujar is another notable figure who has used infrared photography to produce powerful results. Her work, particularly with the Yanomami people in the Amazon, uses infrared to reveal hidden layers of cultural and environmental narratives. Andujar’s images highlight the emotional and humanistic aspects of infrared photography, resonating deeply with my focus.
Minor White and Elliot Landy are also prominent figures in infrared photography. White’s work, with its spiritual and introspective themes and
Landy’s iconic images of the 1960s counterculture, showcase the versatility of infrared photography in capturing different aspects of the human experience. Additionally, Andy Lee’s landscape photography, particularly his series Blue Iceland, as noted above, has impacted my work, inspiring me to explore the mysterious qualities of infrared landscapes.
While I am aware of the works of Mosse, Andujar, White, Landy, and Lee, there are undoubtedly many more photographers who have experimented with infrared photography that I am unfamiliar with. Sometimes, it feels necessary to create from an unburdened consciousness, guided by a visually ignorant head, rather than constantly comparing my work to that of others. However, the more confident I get with my experiments, the hungrier I become visually to see what others have done.
For those interested in other photographers who have experimented with this medium, I recommend Barnaby Attwell’s article From Wood to Mosse: A Brief History of Infrared Photography
A Road in Germany (590nm), 2018
Challenges and narratives in infrared portraiture
My images focus on the emotional aesthetic and finding beauty in everyday life. What might seem mundane to some becomes extraordinary through the lens of infrared photography. I typically capture nature in infrared, though I have also photographed people. People, especially those with less pigmentation in their skin tone, can present an aesthetic challenge in infrared photography, appearing ghostly or alien-like. This occurs because paler skin absorbs more infrared light, allowing the light to penetrate deeper before being scattered or absorbed by other tissue. Despite these challenges, photographing people in infrared can effectively serve specific narratives.
During the pandemic, I used this ghostly effect to convey the grim atmosphere of the first lockdown, creating a visual narrative that matched the eerie, unsettling period. While this ghostly effect can serve a purpose, it limits the aesthetic choices when photographing people with lighter skin tones.
Conversely, darker skin with more pigmentation reflects more infrared light due to the optical properties of melanin, creating a striking contrast where individuals with darker skin tones appear more “normal” against the surreal infrared landscape. This contrast blends reality and dream, which I find compelling.
Right - top to bottom
Pandemic 1 (590nm), 2020
Pandemic 2 (590nm), 2020
David in Geosea Thermal Baths, Húsavík, Iceland (IR Chrome), 2020
More recently, my monochrome infrared work has focused on nature, particularly long-exposure landscapes and macro. The process of making these images is currently more significant to me than the meaning of the images themselves. It is a form of walking meditation and a way of (literally) getting closer to the earth.
Ongoing journey
Infrared photography has heightened my curiosity and significantly influenced how I approach and grade my visible spectrum photography. It
allows me to explore layers, shapes, tonality, and colours beyond the visible, much like the psychological exploration of the unconscious and conscious mind. This ongoing process of experimentation and discovery is central to my practice, continually reshaping my artistic vision. As I continue to explore, I strive to master techniques so thoroughly that I can set them aside, letting emotion, ideas, and narratives guide my work to new depths and dimensions. Ultimately, it’s what I have to say that matters, not just how I say it. However, I am fascinated by this visual language and certain that, as with all languages, becoming fluent will enable me to express myself better.
Groyn, Norfolk (850nm), 2023
Jade Vine (850nm), 2023
Technical details for camera conversion
Full spectrum conversion records visible, UV, and infrared light.
Preferred filters
850nm for pure infrared, resulting in monochrome images.
590nm for blending the upper visible spectrum with infrared, creating false-colour photographs. Kolari Vision IR Chrome filter is closer to Aerochrome, allowing green light around the 550nm mark.
Cameras and filters used
Olympus OM-D E-M5 Mark I for most colour files (590nm).
Sony AR7II for IR Chrome filter image and pandemic images (590nm).
Fuji X-Pro3 for all monochrome infrared images (850nm filter).
Preference for magnetic clip-in filters over screw-on filters for easier lens changes.
Always shoot in RAW for maximum data capture.
Post-production tips
Import RAW files into Adobe Lightroom.
Switch to Adobe Photoshop for channel swapping and basic adjustments using Kolari actions. Return to Lightroom for final grading.
Prioritise authenticity by using cameras that genuinely record infrared light and avoid faking infrared looks from RGB files.
For further technical details, visit Kolari Vision’s website.
About Gabrielle Motola
Gabrielle Motola is an artist, writer, and educator with a background in psychology, photography, and motion pictures. Born in the USA, she moved to the UK in 2001 and has also lived and worked in Iceland. She holds a BSc from the University of Miami, certificates from the Spéos Institute in Paris, and postgraduate qualifications in counselling and therapeutic photography from Robert Gordon University. Gabrielle apprenticed with renowned photographers like Annie Leibovitz and specialised in C-type printing, video editing, and colouring.
Her accolades include the AOP Portrait Gold Prize (2023), several BJP Photography Awards, and her work has been exhibited in the Taylor Wessing Portrait Prize. In 2016, she published An Equal Difference, exploring Iceland’s response to the 2008 financial crisis and gender equality. Gabrielle’s work focuses on human interaction and self-perception, using photography as a tool for personal expression, growth, and social change. www.gabriellemotola.com ▪ www.instagram.com/gmotophotos
Photo by Lawrence Impey
Andy / Hospice, 2021
Nearing the end of life, a final portrait
In her series As the Day Closes, Margaret Mitchell explores the stories of people who have been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Against a backdrop of persistent social and financial inequalities, her encounters shed light on emotional journeys where connections, family and friendships featured alongside isolation, sorrow, and difficulties. In this Q&A with Rachel Nixon, the renowned documentary photographer reflects on how and why she made this work, and the enduring impact of the people she met.
by Margaret Mitchell
What motivated you to pursue this series?
A significant part of my work has concentrated on representation of people often categorised as “other” – those with less money, less choices and less power. Before this series, I was working on a long-term project exploring issues of inequality, serious illness and powerlessness. That work showed that when a person is already socially disadvantaged, living in a precarious economic situation, their lack of choices intensifies if they become seriously ill. The fallout, the implications, of a serious or terminal illness cascade throughout every aspect of their life.
I was then approached in early 2020 to be involved in a university research project, creating self-directed work for exhibition, on people with a terminal diagnosis experiencing financial hardship. This corresponded with my skills and concerns as a documentary photographer – in the past 30 years I’ve often addressed stereotypes and assumptions, making work that is about people as individuals rather than simplistic representations of their social class or situation.
Can you walk us through your research, preparation and creative process for this project?
My work is heavily research driven, both before and throughout the work. In long-term documentary work, I often keep personal diary workbooks of my process, thoughts, notes etc. This work is private, its function to help me develop concepts and ideas, to recall details that stood out which then might develop into final images or become text-based accompaniment.
Making work for me is about observation and listening. I don’t go in believing I know what I will
find and then try to prove any preferred narrative; I have no preconceptions, I have interest and empathy. I spend time getting to know people because there has to be a reason for a photograph, why photograph them a certain way, rather than another. I try to remain curious, respectful, give time, observe and listen deeply.
In this work, I was given contact details of people in the Glasgow area who were interested in meeting me. Some people I met only a few times, others up to six times. After each visit, I would return with quick prints from a preliminary, wide working edit including extras for their family and ask their thoughts. I was meticulous with this work
Stacey and her mum / Living room, 2022
but fundamentally just approached it like my other projects – with good, ethical practice. I believe that time, care and consideration are needed for a project like this to develop appropriately.
Can you share the background to one of your images?
I knew that my time with people might be very limited. For example with Andy, I met him a month to the day before he died. Uppermost in his mind was his recent reconnection with his family including his daughter and baby
granddaughter. I noticed a jar with unopened sticky notes in his room and on my next visit asked him about them, by which time I could see some writing he had done. Andy told me he was writing notes to be left for his granddaughter. They were small notes of love and loss, of what a grandad would say when he sees his granddaughter, but also with a contemplation of how he might feel when no longer there –missing her every day. This detail of Andy’s life shaped the portrait I did of him. Each person I met taught me something and added to my understanding of not only their situation but also the wider narrative of confronting mortality.
Max and Lily / Living room, 2021
Did any challenges arise in the making of this series?
Each body of work creates its own unique challenges. For As the Day Closes , the most important aspect for me was to ensure that I was bringing together, with limited contact time, a cohesive series featuring different people with individual experiences. Like many of my projects, I was also photographing over multiple years with the last image done in 2023 for this work. There were other challenges, however these were not related to the individuals I photographed, but the commissioners.
Did your encounters with these people and their families affect your outlook on anything?
I think every project affects you, every encounter touches you and leaves its trace. Spending many hours and visits with people emphasised how transitory life is but also, the importance of love and care. Because I also attended several funerals to pay my respects, I came to understand the person as others saw them. Connections with people were often intense, if short, but to know you have touched a life is a privilege. Over a year after a woman died, I bumped into her daughter who hugged me like an old friend and talked about
Marie / Bedroom, 2021
how special a connection we’d all had, how deeply she’d valued my visits. That for me is the reason for this work, it’s never about simply creating work, but that people benefit from the process.
In this project, and elsewhere, you write movingly and in detail about your encounters with the subjects and their families. What role does text play in your work?
The amount of text is different for each project. Some require supporting text to work with the images to give a rounded, more nuanced insight into people’s lives whilst other projects only need introductory text. I err on the side of less information, more privacy, using text to highlight
aspects I think are important, but it is not a straight, descriptive caption. For me, writing has to work with and enhance an image, not simply describe but generate wider reflections in an audience.
Persistent inequality is an underlying thread in As the Day Closes, as it is in An Ordinary Eden, and many of your other projects. How does As the Day Closes fit within your wider body of work?
Many of my projects focus on social concerns whereas others emphasise psychological landscapes. I very much try to bridge these two approaches in my work. For example, with Marcus in An Ordinary Eden, one image shows him in his first home at Christmas, but it reflects an emotional
Margaret / Hospice, 2022
space as well as a physical one. Steven standing in the street from In This Place is similar. People are more than their economic or social circumstances – what makes them who they are, who are they as an individual? This is what drives my image-making.
In As the Day Closes most people were concerned with their friends and family, their pets, the people they loved. For these people – some of whom had experienced persistent inequality since birth – financial hardship is nothing new, it is just more difficulty on top of what is already there. It exists in the background because it has always been so. Uppermost in the minds of many I met was how fragile life was. That their time was limited, and that they needed to make the most of it. Support networks came across as essential, either from loved ones or from advocates to access better services. Some social housing is not fit for purpose, other times people’s illnesses mean they
have difficulty accessing their home due to stairs or similar obstacles. Some people don’t want to move though, they are happy where they are, it is where they are connected and feel they belong. Where they are at home. For others, a new home would make a profound difference to their final months.
You’ve worked on an array of challenging subjects. How do you handle this, from a personal perspective?
I think self-care is important when working on emotive projects. There has to be an understanding with yourself that you are able to do this work from a personal wellbeing perspective but most importantly, that you can do justice to people’s stories. I also try balancing the types of work I do, with some more intense than others.
Margaret / Home, 2022
“People are more than their economic or social circumstances – what makes them who they are, who are they as an individual? This is what drives my image-making.”
Liz / Bedroom, 2022
Who or what inspires you as an artist?
I like to read widely. During my photography degree in the 1990s, we did some psychology classes, which sparked my interest and led to further studies after my Master’s. I find this useful in my work for both research and enjoyment. Lately, I’m reading more on philosophical perspectives for subjects such as ethics, grief and concepts around “home”.
What’s not on your CV that you would like readers to know about you?
I worked in Belgium for four years before I started studying photography. I left home at
17, went abroad to work as an au pair to help improve my French but ended up leaving that job very quickly and worked in bars, hotels and restaurants for four years. With that money, I bought myself a camera, came home and applied to do a photography course. My French is not too bad, which is a bonus.
What’s now or next for you?
For As the Day Closes, it will be an exhibition next. Apart from that, I’m continuing long-term work which is built upon in chapters and plan more of that soon after recently photographing on the Isle of Jura
Stacey and Joost / Tower block stairwell, 2022
continued overleaf
Joost / New house, 2023
Andy / Hospice, 2021
On my final visit to Andy, I remained with him as he dozed off and on, happy for me to be there for those hours, to take photos, but closing in on himself as his illness progressed. He was determined to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be documented and remembered.
About Margaret Mitchell
Margaret Mitchell is a Scottish documentary photographer based in Glasgow whose work ranges from exploring communities and children’s worlds through to projects on the individual and society. Bridging psychological landscapes and social concerns, her work explores the intricacies and complexities of people’s lives with a particular emphasis on place and belonging.
Recognition includes in the Marilyn Stafford FotoReportage Award (2022 & 2024), the Sony World Photography Awards (2018), and the Royal Photographic Society IPE (2017). She has exhibited widely including at the National Portrait Gallery, London, the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh, and her latest body of work An Ordinary Eden premiered at Street Level Photoworks, Glasgow in 2023. Her book Passage (Bluecoat Press, 2021) reflects on the nature of disadvantage and privilege in a study over three generations. Work has been acquired for the permanent collections of the National Galleries of Scotland, the Martin Parr Foundation and the University of Stirling Art Collection.
Tales retold: Classic stories through a modern female lens
A striking portrait series navigating the gendered structures of fairy tales presented and learned throughout childhood – and reinterpreting them to reflect the reality of the female experience.
by Vicky Martin
As a female photographer, I find that narratives built around tenacious, resilient women are the most captivating and engaging. In this context, children’s literary figures hold a special resonance for me, as our understanding of their symbolism evolves to become more poignant as we transition from childhood to adulthood. Throughout all of my work I have been inspired by strong female characters, especially those found in literature and film.
Telling Tales is a conceptual series that examines fairy tales through a modern female lens. It captures adult women navigating the gendered restrictions of these tales, acknowledging how the literary genre first originated with stories designed to teach adults, rather than children, the contemporary acceptable social, moral, and sexual codes and practices. Each image’s narrative is primarily conveyed through the character’s hair – the signifier of a woman’s identity
and, as the Rapunzel tale illustrates, a pathway to potential liberation from the tower of ideals and expectations placed upon women.
At the heart of this series and my wider work lies a profound fascination with the female experience, namely the undeniably multifaceted nature of femininity. Exploring what it means to be a woman inherently necessitates challenging the myriad of preconceived notions about female identity. As a result, recurring themes emerge: the pressure to conform to stereotypical, societal expectations of femininity; the distance between an individual’s own sense of identity and collective notions of womanhood; and the subsequent conflict between strength and vulnerability. The lens I craft my staged narratives through acknowledges how gender constructs and discourses invariably shape our perceptions of the world and the women living in it.
Becalmed – Telling Tales series. Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s tale of The Little Mermaid, the image evokes the mythical figure of the siren who lures men to join her beneath the waves with her voice. The siren, captivating and beautiful while simultaneously possessing a deadly voice, is depicted by the wave-like curls that hold the ship-in-a-bottle firmly in their grasp. It is now the woman who commands the waves, who looks to the new horizon fully in charge of her destiny, capable of charting the course she chooses to follow.
Sugar and Spice – Telling Tales series.
A take on the Hansel and Gretel-inspired narrative of a young woman embarking on a journey, alone, through the archetypal dark forest and overcoming every obstacle she encounters through her tenacity, courage and wit. The slightly surreal, absurd lollipops adorning the warrior queen hairstyle are a play on the rhyme that associates girls with “sugar and spice and all things nice” –transforming any perceived sweetness into a weapon to be wielded.
Ever Brave – Telling Tales series. Also inspired by a Hans Christian Andersen tale – The Steadfast Tin Soldier – this image reverses the genders and roles of the tin soldier and the paper ballerina. Instead of a two-dimensional, fragile illustration, the female figure becomes lifelike and has depth, possessing both the ballerina’s grace and beauty with the soldier’s bravery. This challenges the fantasy of a superficial, homogenous female identity.
The Swan – Telling Tales series.
An embodiment of the traditional feminine attributes of beauty and grace while also suggesting that something sinister lurks beneath the elegant surface. Swan Lake contrasts Odette and Odile, the white and black swans, which are represented here in white and red, a binary colour palette that is consistent throughout the series. The underlying sinister presence associated with Odile is projected onto the red, the colour of blood and sin – transformed to a fear of the period, of pregnancy, of fertility. Any female purity is inevitably stained by the red of fertility and sexuality, the menstrual cycle connotations evoking the idea of being drained but also stained.
Red Riding – Telling Tales series. Depicts a further reversal of female passivity and male action by eschewing the traditional presence of the male woodsman and wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. Indeed, the image’s title emphasises “riding” and portrays a woman in control of her movements, her actions, and ultimately her narrative.
Above - left to right Blush – Selfhood series. Ruby Red – Selfhood series. La Souris Femelle – Selfhood series.
“... a pathway to potential liberation from the tower of ideals and expectations placed upon women”
I also explore the complex layers of female identity through narratives that blur the boundaries between fantasy and reality. My earliest series, Selfhood, is inspired by the proverb “the eyes are the window to the soul” and a desire to challenge the need to see the eyes, and therefore the “soul”, within a portrait photograph. Although grounded in the reality of the female experience, each image uses fantastical creative elements referencing traditional fairy tales or childhood figures to disguise the female subject’s eyes. The concealed eyes symbolise both the female’s desire to hide their soul or identity from the world, and society’s desire to not look into a woman’s eyes to see the reality of individuality and expose the fantasy of a singular female experience. The Telling Tales series began in 2022 combining elements of pure whimsical fantasy, underpinned by societal critique and grounded in individual reality. The constant interplay between red and white symbolises the battle between being a
woman in control of her own body as much as her fate, her perception of herself and others’ perception of her, and against the moral and sexual ethics ingrained in society through fairy tales. In addition to colour, hair is another key element in this series and required some time to navigate from the initial conceptualisation to the final image –due to the intricate development of each wig in addition to creating the other props and outfits, such as the ship-in-a-bottle featured in the image titled Becalmed. Despite the lengthy process, this hands-on creative process is something I really enjoy and embrace.
I am excited to start on the next image of the Telling Tales series, which will feature an even more elaborate hair creation. I am also currently developing and planning a location series, as well as editing a series in the post-production stage – I tend to work on several projects at a time, always spinning many plates.
In Search of Courage – Not in Kansas series.
About Vicky Martin
Vicky is an award-winning British photographer with a background in art and design. She is best known for her conceptual portraits that intertwine created characters with staged realities, seeking to convey not only conflicts between fantasy and reality, but also those tensions found within the self – especially the female self.
Her work is held in the permanent collection of FotoNostrum Mediterranean House of Photography Barcelona, and has been widely published and exhibited nationally and internationally – from Europe to the US, in solo and group shows. Her work continues to garner many awards and nominations, including Praxis Gallery Anthology Directors’ Choice Award 2024; XIV Florence Biennale Finalist 2023; Minimalist Photography Awards Portrait Photographer of The Year 2020; Beauty and Fashion Category Winner at the Chromatic Awards 2018; Fine Art Category Single Image Winner at the 12th JMCA 2018; and Fine Art Series Winner at Fine Art Photography Awards 2016. www.vickymartinphoto.co.uk ▪ www.instagram.com/vickymartinphoto
Our Solace: On women of colour taking a deep breath in nature
Inspired by her own experiences, the photographer and artist engages with women of colour seeking solitude, rejuvenation and liberation in green spaces in urban landscapes. She learns that reconnecting with nature helps the women find resilience, healing and belonging away from the chaos of the city.
by Monika Mabiki
Growing up in rural Poland, I had unlimited access to nature — from lakes and rivers to green fields and forests. It has always been easy for me to seek tranquillity and counterbalance life’s upheavals in and through the natural world.
The transition away from nature began when I moved from the countryside to a big city in Poland to study architecture. This marked the start of my journey into urban life. After graduating at age 27, I took another step away from my rural roots by relocating to London, immersing myself even deeper into city living.
Once in London, I realised how limited access to, or understanding of, what we consider nature can be in an urban setting. As a photographer of Polish and Congolese descent, I wanted to learn about women who may face similar challenges to mine and their own celebratory practices around nature.
The resulting series, Our Solace, focuses on women of colour navigating life in a bustling metropolis. My objective is to delve into their experiences with accessing nature and the sanctuaries they carve out for solitude, rejuvenation, and liberation from societal expectations. I explore the broader impacts that forging connections with nature has on their wellbeing and sense of belonging in urban landscapes.
Research underscores that women of colour often shoulder a disproportionate burden of chronic stress, stemming from a complex interplay of health disparities and other stressors. These stress factors include perceived discrimination, the relentless pressures of daily life, family dynamics, challenges of acculturation, environmental influences, and the responsibilities of motherhood. The effects of social stress arising from intersecting racial and gender discrimination, compounded by health and socioeconomic disparities, can exacerbate the risk of health issues over time.
However, being in nature is like visiting the best private clinic, where, regardless of the diagnosis, we can feel reassured that we will get better. And, indeed, we do get better.
Through Our Solace, I aim to capture powerful visual stories and highlight often overlooked and marginalised voices. This series showcases resilience and empowerment, emphasising the impact of reconnecting with nature. It seeks to inspire dialogue, empathy, and reflection on how our environments shape our identities.
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Left
Josette in South Norwood Country Park, London.
My meditation
Several years ago, I received a vintage Canon FTb camera as a birthday gift. Since then, capturing the world around me on film has evolved into meditation and a vital form of self-care. I am deeply fascinated by the magic of life. Through photography, I delve into life’s mysteries, cherishing moments that unveil the unseen layers surrounding us.
My work is driven by a desire to transcend individual experience and explore the realms that lie beyond. I conceptualise this exploration as tapping into the ultimate dimension — a profound reality intricately woven from interconnected elements that envelop and define our existence.
When I embark on capturing and editing my photographs, my goal is to distil the enchantment of these multiple dimensions into a singular image. Each photograph becomes a canvas where I endeavour to create visuals that transcend the mundane, inviting viewers to peer deeper into their interpretations and emotions.
A deep dive into the essence of black and brown female existence within these expansive dimensions, Our Solace embodies the limitless creative energy of life, serving as both a channel and core of this pervasive force that shapes our world.
Shani in South Norwood Country Park, London.
What nature means to us
During my shoots for this series, I’ve been engaging women — and reflecting on myself — about heritage, life aspirations, green spaces in London, peaceful retreats beyond the city, and what the concept of unmasking signifies to each of us.
We discussed how nature has been cherished by our mothers, sisters, and grandmothers, and which aspects of the natural world we feel most connected to and in harmony with. We also explored the emotions we seek to release and those we aim to evoke, along with our self-care routines and what those practices mean to us.
Seyi, a 30-year-old artist of Nigerian heritage, told me: “When I’m in nature, I try to escape the chaos of the city. I aim to clear my busy mind and let go of stress or self-doubt. I seek to evoke emotions of confidence, authenticity, self-love, peace, and mindfulness, striving to feel truly connected to my body.”
Being in nature helps Seyi connect with her inner child. She said: “Nature humbles me and reminds me of my strength, power, and creativity. It challenges me in a way that feels welcoming, and when I leave, I feel like I can do anything.
“It feels like home, grounding me on this earth
Katherine in Betts Park, London.
and within myself, thanks to the presence of nonhuman natural beings. The balance between humans and other beings in nature helps my circadian rhythm and allows my vagus nerve to relax,” Seyi added.
Jumi, a London-based photographer of Nigerian descent, said she aims to shed selfjudgement and pause the mental chatter while in nature. “Those things leave me feeling heavy and numb to my body. In nature I want to evoke moving emotions and mental stillness that allow my subconscious to breathe, re-centre and also release any emotional congestion.”
Sana in Hampstead Heath, London.
Jumi in Crystal Palace Park, London.
“[Nature] challenges me in a way that feels welcoming, and when I leave, I feel like I can do anything” — Seyi, artist
Seyi in Beckenham Place Park, London.
Chani in Betts Park, London.
“In nature I want to evoke moving emotions and mental stillness” — Jumi, photographer
More than half of the women I photographed told me neurodivergence was among the greatest issues they face in everyday life.
Seyi said: “The main challenge in my daily life as a neurodivergent person is struggling with tasks that neurotypical people find easy. My brain finds it difficult because I’m dyslexic, and my ADHD means I get overwhelmed very easily.”
“In big cities, my main challenge is finding peace and quiet, and places where I can be my authentic self. This sometimes involves doing things that aren’t socially acceptable, and I often have to police myself to appear typical among people. In reality, I just want to be barefoot, rolling in the grass, screaming loudly, and doing breathwork.”
Sometimes, the challenge stems from ongoing social and political situations. Sana, a 35-year-old therapist of Pakistani descent, shared with me her struggle to maintain an open and hopeful heart in a world that often seems cruel. She said: “For example, the live streaming of genocide and the complicitness of so many can make me lose hope sometimes and I have to remind myself there is hope, and to keep trying.”
The women who participated in this series had many favourite green spaces in London, among them Hampstead Heath Ponds, Epping Forest, Beckenham Place Park Lake, Stave Hill Ecological Park, the River Lea, Walthamstow Marshes, Crystal Palace Park, Peckham Rye Park, and Horniman Gardens.
Our Solace is more than a photographic series — it is a heartfelt exploration of interconnectedness, resilience, and the enduring quest for healing and belonging in a world that often feels fragmented and foreign to many of us. It is a celebration of the beauty and strength found in embracing our natural surroundings and reclaiming spaces where one’s truest self can flourish amidst the complexities of modern life.
The series reminds us: “For each of us as women, there is a dark place within, where hidden and growing our true spirit rises, ‘beautiful/and tough as chestnut/stanchions against (y)our nightmare of weakness/’ and of impotence… Within these deep places each one of us holds an incredible reserve of creativity and power…” (Sister Outsider, Audre Lorde).
Jumi in Crystal Palace Park, London.
About Monika Mabiki
Monika Mabiki is a London-based, self-taught photographer and multimedia artist with Polish and Congolese heritage. She primarily works with analogue photography to capture her unique vision. Her work has been showcased at the Fujifilm House of Photography and the Photo Frome Festival and featured in publications that explore the lives of creatives beyond their professional endeavours.
With a background in architecture, Monika brings a unique perspective to her photography, integrating her understanding of space and nature into her art. This foundation enriches her ability to create works that are both visually striking and intellectually engaging and encourage viewers to reflect on their perception of connectivity, space and the natural world.
Monika is inspired by natural light, which she skillfully integrates into her analogue photography. This connection adds a unique touch to her work, highlighting the beauty and mood of the world around her.
www.monikamabiki.com ▪ www.instagram.com/_mabiki
Seyi in Beckenham Place Park, London.
Distorted Bodies: Experimenting with perception and process
Drawing on personal experience of body dysmorphia, this mixed media series explores the distorted perceptions of the female body and the intricate process behind the project’s execution.
by Sophie Ellen Lachowycz
“Two separate and visually distinct bodies of work under the same common theme: our distorted versions of beauty and the impact this has on us.”
The representation of the female body has always been an interest of mine within photography and a consistent consideration across my works within fashion and portraiture.
However, it wasn’t until after the birth of my daughter that I decided to pursue this theme more directly, with a deep urge to create a personal photographic project that allowed me to fully express myself after maternity leave.
A unique time for any mother, this period is also accompanied by big changes evident across all areas of life – most prominently the changes in
our body, identity and appearance as we navigate back to “normality”.
Within my photographic practice I like to experiment, explore new techniques and push the boundaries of imagery. Distorted Bodies allowed me the opportunity to really consider what I wanted to communicate and how I could use the photographic medium to do so. The result is two separate and visually distinct bodies of work under the same common theme: our distorted versions of beauty and the impact this has on us.
Digital dysmorphia
To begin exploring this distorted perception of the female body, I first considered the ways in which I could create a more abstract approach. Drawing on my own experience with an eating disorder and body dysmorphia, I wanted to use a mirror to explore my personal experiences of this distorted view, the obsessive dissection of a reflection and the manipulated perspective we experience in this process.
For this digital body of work I drew inspiration from my existing fashion photography portfolio, using brightly coloured backgrounds and clear, crisp imagery in a photographic studio setup. Key materials included a flexible mirrored surface to help reflect and distort the subject. Even though this may seem very straightforward, it can be a particularly challenging process in many ways. For example, ensuring the desired lighting setup is consistent across the image when the subject is moving, all while making sure you don’t end up photographing your own reflection.
In this context, it’s crucial to take extra time to conduct research and select the correct resources that will increase the likelihood of capturing
the intended result. When I began the project, I spent a lot of time researching the right mirror material to guarantee it reflected as accurately as possible whilst also having the flexibility to distort the reflection. Despite this, I still encountered challenges including how easily the mirror scratched and blemished, resulting in a lot of time in post-production.
Photographing a range of models against several vibrant backgrounds resulted in a striking body of work that explores my concept in a diverse and abstract way. It was actually a very fun process for all involved being able to capture these images in the studio, with a consistent lighting setup and against bright backdrops. We had a lot of laughs at the resulting distorted imagery and the contorted poses some models got into in order to create the abstract visual.
Using a Canon 5DSR means I have sharp and eye-catching images that can be presented on a very large scale. Exhibiting these in a super-large size would allow viewers to immerse themselves into the abstract elements, as well as see the bodies themselves in close-up detail.
I am very grateful that this particular series, whilst still underway, has already been published and widely featured. One of the digital images was showcased on a digital billboard in Holland Park, London, thanks to the Procreate Project I have also exhibited the images on a smaller scale at The Apex, drawing viewers in close to see every detail in the abstract form.
Polarising perceptions
To further progress my project, I also explored using polaroid emulsion lifts to communicate my Distorted Bodies concept. Delving into the theme with this technique has resulted in a very tactile, hand-based body of work which sits very much in contrast to the digital series.
Despite their differences, I captured the initial polaroid images in a similar way – using a simple studio setup with clean, natural-looking lighting. However, the images were taken from more of a methodical and observational perspective, as a documentation of the subject’s body. The
standalone polaroids are factual, which I then proceeded to distort in the production of the emulsion lift. This method allowed me a lot more control over the shape of the body, very much in direct contrast to capturing the distortion projected in front of me for the digital images.
The emulsion lift technique is something I had previously explored through teaching but hadn’t really experimented with in my own work. I decided to give it a go on a portrait test shoot and was really pleased with the results. I had also pitched for and been awarded a grant by the Richard & Siobhan Coward Foundation, which allowed me to further explore this analogue medium for my Distorted Bodies project.
The actual process behind creating a polaroid emulsion lift consists of cutting the frame around the polaroid and using water to separate the layers, revealing the emulsion which holds the image. Working with this fragile medium is challenging, and I used delicate positioning to transfer the emulsion onto a surface. Mistakes can often happen during this process, such as the unexpected tearing of the emulsion and therefore the image. I have some photographs within the series that are definitely a record of salvaging a mistake, and some happy accidents.
Within this project I also experimented by transferring the emulsion onto watercolour paper, a mirrored surface, acetate, as well as things
that didn’t work quite so well like tracing paper. Throughout this process, regardless of the material, I manipulated the arrangement of the emulsion layer to provide an abstract take on the form of the female body.
In terms of studio equipment, this consisted of a simple grey background and an additional fill light – alongside the automatic flash on the polaroid camera.
I was really interested to see what I could do within the creation of these works, though it would be remiss to not mention how much of a time-consuming, delicate process it is and the
commitment you need to create a vast number of outcomes. I personally found it quite therapeutic at times and always enjoyed the challenge of thinking on the spot as to how I could manipulate an image to portray my concept.
The resulting series of polaroid emulsion lifts for Distorted Bodies are very much one-off, textured, striking pieces of artwork. I have shared these online with some success in awards and competitions – featured in Der Greif’s Guest Room and as the winning series for the Alternative Processes category in the 20th Pollux Awards – although nothing beats seeing the actual piece in person.
An evolving exploration
Being experimental and enjoying the process of creating the image as much as the outcome is quite reflective of how I work as a photographer. Creating the two series under the common Distorted Bodies concept has allowed me to work with some brilliant subjects and I am very thankful for their participation and willingness to experiment. Some people modelled for both, whilst some had a distinct look I wanted for just one series. This is another example of the planning and consideration that goes into the pre-production of a photoshoot, a particular body of work and the deeper awareness of how to communicate a specific concept.
Whilst the two mediums and resulting bodies of work are very different, I do feel that the concept is successfully portrayed in both formats and will appeal to a wider audience.
For the digital series, there is one more photoshoot I would like to execute to ensure a more diverse range of skin tones and body types are present. This will in turn allow me to connect with my audience in a more personal manner. Incorporating more colours in the backgrounds will also help achieve this.
Separately, I have recently completed one last photoshoot to conclude the polaroid emulsion lift series of the Distorted Bodies project – making sure a diverse range of subjects were featured and an explorative range of imagery included. Whilst I personally struggle to "finalise" a project, the cost of materials has made it challenging to progress any further at this time.
I feel I have learnt a lot within the creation of these bodies of work and there are certainly key elements that I will continue to bring through to my photographic practice. I am excited to continue exploring more abstract and challenging techniques, as well as applying these to future fashion and portrait photography projects.
About Sophie Ellen Lachowycz
Sophie Ellen Lachowycz is an award-winning fashion and portrait photographer, published and exhibited internationally. Her work utilises a feminine aesthetic, inspired by unique beauty and strength. With a meticulous eye for detail, her practice is experimental across digital, analogue and polaroid imagery.
Working within womenswear, Sophie builds connections with subjects and teams; generating creative imagery for fashion editorial, lookbook, campaign and portraiture. Parallel to her commercial work, she executes personal projects fusing her fashion aesthetic and personal stories.
Sophie is also a lecturer in photography and fashion communication. Her teaching experience spans across further and higher education, as a visiting lecturer and course director. Selected credits include being awarded winner of Portrait of Britain and categories within the Julia Margaret Cameron Awards, alongside photographing MP Liz Truss for 209 Women – exhibited at The Houses of Parliament and Open Eye Gallery. www.sophieellen.co.uk ▪ www.instagram.com/sophieellenphoto
This article contains references to sexual violence and abuse, which some readers may find distressing.
Towards dialogue — and a different masculinity
Wanting to heal from sexual abuse, Emma Boittiaux asked male friends and family to stand in front of her camera in vulnerable poses. Through this series of non-traditional images of male bodies, alongside her poems, she seeks to spark new conversations about consent and safe space.
by Emma Boittiaux
This project began with a need for dialogue. Lockdown happened six months after I left an abusive two-year relationship. When the outside world closed down, I took this time to reflect on and acknowledge all the abuse I have been the victim of since the beginning of my sexuality.
I started by voicing it to my dad — my mother already knew — and through this discussion, I realised how important those dialogues are and how rarely they happen. And so Avec Eux (“With Them”) was born, to photograph the bodies of the men close to me and turn them into a visible dialogue. I needed to explore a different masculinity than the one I and a lot of others have suffered from and photograph male bodies as not doing enough: poetic, vulnerable, raw.
I created those portraits over six months between Cherbourg and London — my hometown and my adopted home. You will find family, friends, mentors, and lovers among the images but you will never know who is who or learn any names — those details belong to me and them. You only need to see their dance, how I capture this healing space and how men can be part of the change if they enter the dance that we, women, will lead.
I didn’t share the same amount of details about the project with all of the men that I photographed. For some, like my brothers, I couldn’t tell them what had happened to me but asking them to be part of
this project with me, offering me their vulnerability, was a first and crucial step in the process of my opening up to them. This made me realise how we ask victims of abuse to talk, to tell their story, without realising that it is one of the most vulnerable things for a person to do; we don’t think about taking an initial step and offering our own vulnerability first.
This is what Avec Eux is about. Whether they knew the full extent of the work or not, all of these men were prepared to get in front of the camera because it mattered to me. So, in both French and English, I decided to guide them all the same way by showing them the same three poses — hands on their faces, chest and belly. Each gave their own interpretation of these three poses and, from those, glimpses of their personality would appear.
During these photo shoots, the men shared different thoughts and emotions. One told me that he was thinking about his partner during her pregnancy whilst he had his hands on his belly. Another confessed that he didn’t think that he would ever have been capable of being that vulnerable, but once in front of the camera he felt surprisingly at ease.
I do believe that cis men are not aware of their bodies in the same way as cis women, and that for cis men to step outside of their comfort zone with their bodies is a way to open new and different conversations around consent and safe space.
I said yes.
Until I said no, The no got you even more excited.
The no in your eyes, Turned me into a body to colonise.
My no became my sentence, I couldn’t see myself being conquered by you.
So I left my body, The fear of your fist muted me.
When I closed your door this morning, I was still ignorant.
About this part of me, That died inside your walls.
Then I stepped outside, Right there I saw myself.
Nothing more than a broken body, Left on the pavement.
I am scared to tell you that I failed,
Failed at protecting myself.
Wanted to party like a man
Drink like a man
Ended up being raped like a woman.
Ashamed of you being hurt
Because of too many drinks on my behalf.
Ended up following the wrong guy
Ended up on the wrong side of the story.
Of too many others’ similar stories.
I hope that the next time my eyes will cross yours I’ll look right back
I’ll stand tall and tell you
Dad, I am broken.
You rape us, But our trauma is too much for you.
How come at the end it is always about you?
Where is the space for our pain?
Our tears we are claiming back.
When healing and disillusion, Walk the same path.
My body is shaking, My mind cries.
Was I ready to know, How much they abused me?
About Emma Boittiaux
Emma Boittiaux is an artist and award-winning photographer born in Normandy, France, and currently based in London. She graduated from Central Saint Martins in 2017. An image from her series Take Care Of Your Brother won her the prestigious Portrait Of Britain in 2023.
Emma’s research intertwines photography, textile, embroidery and writing to explore topics such as brotherhood and sexual violence. She approaches her work with warmth and tenderness, with the aim of creating dialogues. The notion of care is central in Emma’s work and is woven into every step of her practice from the topic itself, to her meticulous embroidery work and the way she photographs others.
In her recent series titled Stay Longer Emma takes a detour from photographing people and decides to pick up a point-and-shoot camera to capture details of the landscape that she encounters on her travels. Those details are elevated with beading work that makes the viewer move in the landscape at a different pace — slower, closer. The mundane becomes precious. www.emmaboittiaux.com ▪ www.instagram.com/emmaboittiaux
Journey to the roof of Africa
The challenges and wonders of reaching and photographing the largest free-standing mountain on Earth.
Silhouettes in front of the majestic Mount Kilimanjaro at Karanga Camp, Alpine Desert zone (Leica C-Lux)
So here I am, standing on the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, watching the beautiful sunrise unfold in front of me. Since midnight we have been part of a conveyor belt of head torches slowly snaking up the side of the largest free-standing mountain in the world, the fourth most topographically prominent peak on Earth. Sometimes overtaking, sometimes being overtaken, the journey punctuated with short breaks to rest and replenish.
We had trekked up the Umbwe route, the steepest and hence fastest of the seven possible routes to the summit. To acclimatise over four days, we first climbed Mount Meru, some 70 kilometres west of Kilimanjaro – at 4,566 metres it is the fifth highest mountain in Africa.
Our group set out in February 2024 and was led by a local Tanzanian team who were keen for us to take the obligatory summit photos and make our way down as soon as possible – the effects of altitude at almost 6,000 metres above sea level are unpredictable and a few of us felt unwell and suffered headaches.
Photography was strictly forbidden on the summit night trek due to the risk of not only being left behind, but also slowing the group down. It took nine days to reach the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro. In that time, I captured over 1,000 photos and more than 25 videos documenting my journey.
The start
Our daily routine started with breakfast at 6.30am, during which overnight aches and pains were disclosed and assessed. A quick briefing for the day ahead took place before we set off, followed by a late lunch, dinner at 6.30pm and we were back in our tents by 8pm. The altitude played havoc with our sleep and, as we got higher, the different routes merged and the camps got bigger and noisier – which also affected our attempts at rest and recovery.
I took photos each day, alternating between my compact Leica C-Lux camera and my iPhone 15 Pro. I had been advised not to bring a tripod as it would take too long to set up on the go. The journey to the summit took us through five climatic zones and we marvelled at the changing landscape, vegetation and wildlife. However, there were a few challenges I had to confront right from the start.
Watching sunrise on
“Since midnight we have been part of a conveyor belt of head torches slowly snaking up the side of the largest free-standing mountain in the world”
the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro and observing more trekkers ascending on the left (Leica C-Lux)
Facing the elements
As part of a group with a schedule to maintain, stopping wasn’t always convenient, which meant taking photos on the go. We had no access to electricity so instead relied on pre-charged battery packs. As the climate got colder, I resorted to storing my electronics inside my sleeping bag close to my hot water bottles to keep the freezing temperatures at bay and slow down the battery discharge rate. This also meant I could not afford to review or edit my photos until the end.
Taking photos while using walking poles was a further challenge and I occasionally sacrificed one pole to be able to readily access my camera. Other times I required both hands to scramble up the side of the mountain – the camera safely packed away and that perfect shot sacrificed.
Walking and handling a camera with insulated gloves in the colder zones was also a tougher task than I had imagined. Fortunately, I had recently discovered a brilliant glove-mitten “twinset” by The Heat Company which made handling my camera much easier. The woollen finger gloves stayed on while the outer insulated mitten had a top that could be folded down and out of the way.
Right - top to bottom Trekkers atop the formidable Barranco Wall in the Heath and Moorland zone (iPhone 15 Pro)
Resting by the side of a gigantic fallen rainforest tree (Leica C-Lux)
Scrambling up a steep side of one of many ridges on our way to Barranco Camp, assisted by walking poles and our own hands (Leica C-Lux)
In search of the perfect shot
Someone once reminded me to “look behind and around”, as the most beautiful image may not necessarily be in front of us. It was good advice indeed and more than once the shot of where I had come from was far more impressive than the view ahead.
The best light was either around sunrise or sunset – due to the reduced cloud cover, the midday sun was too harsh. When the sky was a beautiful blue hue I would shoot away from the sun to preserve the vivid colours. On other occasions I captured striking silhouettes shooting directly into the sunlight.
The stunning views of the mountains and valleys, the changing vegetation and wildlife through the five climatic zones made for really interesting photo-
graphy. The first two, the fertile Bushland/Cultivation and Rainforest zones, were green and lush, dense and damp, and hot and sweaty. The trees were gigantic and plentiful, and most were covered in old man’s beard. Orchids growing on the branches of ancient trees, diverse birdlife, small mammals and the cry of the tree hyrax were unlike anything I had experienced before.
The rainforest canopy provided much welcome shade from the sun during the day and was home to monkeys and birds that we could hear but not easily see. We did spot some black and white Colobus monkeys gallivanting among the trees, moving too quickly for any of us to get clear shots.
Looking back to see trekkers and porters walking the same trail our group had just completed (Leica C-Lux)
Onwards and upwards
On the evening of day five, at 2,800 metres, we entered the Heath and Moorland zone. The trees disappeared and gave way to stunning views of previously hidden magnificent mountains and valleys. The shrubs were dominated by giant heathers and tussock grasses, reminiscent of the Scottish Highlands.
There was an abundance of beautiful wildflowers, most prominently giant lobelias and iconic senecios. In this zone of drastic temperature swings we did
not see many animals, except for the occasional rodent and the black and white crows scavenging around the campsite. We finished that day at 3,950 metres in Barranco Camp.
The next morning, we tackled the formidable Barranco Wall. This required some scrambling skills to enter the Alpine Desert zone which extends to 5,000 metres. The intense rays of the sun beat down on us during the day and at night I was grateful for my hot water bottles and toasty -30°C rated
Old man’s beard in the Rainforest zone, giant senecios, lobelias and wild thistle in the Heath and Moorland zone (mix of iPhone 15 Pro and Leica C-Lux)
sleeping bag. It was quite barren and inhospitable with only moss and lichen finding a home here.
The landscape was dominated by impressive rock formations and panoramic views. Photographing vegetation became less exciting and the focus was now on the majestic mountains looming above us. The humidity that dogged us in the lower zones was replaced by dry dusty winds. I tried to keep
my camera protected, slipping it back into its case as much as possible.
A couple of days later, still in the Alpine Desert zone, we stopped for the night at Barafu Camp from where we would begin our final uphill trek. At 1,200 metres below the summit and with only half the available oxygen at sea level, breathing was slow and laboured.
Local Tanzanian porters carrying our kit to Barafu Camp in the Alpine Desert zone (iPhone 15 Pro)
The final ascent
The surrounding area of the camp was dominated by huge glaciers, large boulders and scree underfoot that sounded like shattering glass as I walked on it. There was no resident animal or plant life, except for a few hardy lichens.
Luckily for us, the dreaded blustery winds didn’t make an appearance although the temperature was below freezing as we set off for our summit attempt. As photography was not allowed, my camera was safely wrapped up in my day pack to keep it as warm as possible. We frequently paused to rehydrate and consume snacks to keep our energy levels high. I noticed icicles forming in my water bottle.
It seemed like I had walked forever over scree, boulders, gravel and ice. Then suddenly I was there, watching the glorious sunrise in the dramatic, stark, cold and unforgiving Arctic zone, trying to conjure up words big enough to express how I felt at that moment and capture the best possible memory.
The rocky terrain around our base at Barafu Camp, Alpine Desert zone (Leica C-Lux)
About Shamani Surendran
Shamani was born in Malaysia and prior to moving to the UK resided in Australia for several years. She lives with her family in Wimbledon and became passionate about photography during the Covid pandemic.
Her work has been exhibited in several galleries and a number of her images have been featured in limited edition photo books in the US. Her bird series – And there were more, there always are – was shortlisted for the Royal Photographic Society’s International Photographic Exhibition in January 2024.
She was invited by Wimbledon Museum to be their inaugural Photographer in Residence in 2023, as part of its ambition to invite people to make new connections and deepen their understanding of the local area. As part of her residency, Shamani created a body of work for the Museum called Scenes: Seen and Unseen, which is on permanent view at the Museum.
Happy smiles on the Roof of Africa, our footwear covered in fine dry Arctic zone dust (taken by someone else on my iPhone 15 Pro)
Round-about-fifty – and torn
A view into how a generation of women, now in their fifties, face the delicate balance between successful careers and ever-increasing care responsibilities.
by Fran Monks
If you are a woman aged round-about-fifty in the UK today, you are likely to have been part of a significant social change during your twenties. Between 1990 and 2000, the number of women getting degrees each year increased fourfold. At the same time, women flipped from being in the minority at university to being the majority. This was the first time in UK history that young women became better educated than young men.
Today, these same women are successful professionals, holding positions of power and influence. They are also handling additional pressure, not always shared by their male counterparts. In spite of more gender equality at work, government data show that women are doing many more hours of unpaid care than men. At a time when state provision of social care is at breaking point, the pressure on women to fill the gaps is even greater. According to the Office of National Statistics, this caring role peaks while women are
in their fifties. The result is that highly educated women feel constantly torn between their jobs and the needs of their families. It’s overwhelming and exhausting.
As a visual artist of round-about-fifty myself, I could not help but notice the mismatch between how my peers were feeling and the representation of women my age in the media. The clichéd hot flush of the menopause is portrayed with equally stereotypical photos of middle-aged women with handheld fans. Largely missing are the portraits of ordinary women who are accomplishing an impressive juggling act – doing a great job at work while carrying a heavier burden at home.
I wanted to create a new set of portraits which tell the story of how middle-aged women are achieving so much. So, I put out the call for women aged round-about-fifty who did not see themselves represented in popular culture. The response was fantastic.
“When you reach this age you have seen most things before and you can say, ‘I’ve got this. I know what to do.’”
Maxine, 56
“I’ve got a lot of knowledge and experience, I’ve seen a lot of things before.”
Catherine, 57
“They are depended upon by so many, both at work and at home, but celebrated so little.”
As I began making portraits, many women told me that they felt increasingly invisible as they aged. They were happy to be photographed and show more authentically what their cohort is like: women with lots of expertise and a great deal to offer. As Maxine, 56, put it: “When you reach this age you have seen most things before and you can say, ‘I’ve got this, I know what to do.’” And Alison, 53, said: “By my age you don’t need to look everything up on a smartphone. You have learnt so much along the way.”
The women were also quick to acknowledge the balancing act that they face. Claire, 55, put it like this: “Sometimes you feel like you’ve done three rounds with someone before you even get to work. You have to be able to switch from supporting the family into work mode.” It’s therefore not surprising that many experience the feeling of utter exhaustion that Sherlaine, 52, describes: “I want to be working on my own projects, but I’m so exhausted, when I get home from work, it’s hard to get going. I should be taking care of myself but I’m not.”
In spite of the challenges, many of the women I photographed have found a way to balance their responsibilities. Usha, 51, has an impressive amount on her plate: “I support and care for my elderly parents, manage a team of 20 nursing staff, my
daughters live with me and I’m engaged to be married. It’s a lot to juggle but I feel grateful for everything.” Jill, 50, shared: “I have a full-on job and I am an intergenerational carer, which pulls me in lots of different directions. But I am thriving and have won multiple awards for my work. There’s plenty to celebrate.”
It’s not an easy stage of life, even without considering the potential impact of the menopause and lingering discrimination in the workplace. However, the women pictured are acing it. Many of them mentioned a feeling of being on a threshold in life. There is a sense that this mid-life juggle will end, opening up the possibility of achieving ever greater things in the years to come.
I set out to find the real face of women aged round-about-fifty. I wanted to go beyond the stereotypes and create images that would allow a wide range of women of this agerange to recognise themselves. Educated and overwhelmed, but determined and resilient, these women are impressive in the extreme. They are depended upon by so many, both at work and at home, but celebrated so little. I hope that these portraits will help change that and help people see how remarkable women of round-about-fifty can be.
“By my age you don’t need to look everything up on a smartphone. You have learnt so much along the way.”
Alison, 53
“I think it’s easy to feel lost at this stage of life because you are looking after everyone else. I feel like I need to burrow out to be myself.”
Emma, 52
“Sometimes you feel like you’ve done three rounds with someone before you even get to work. You have to be able to switch from supporting the family into work mode.”
Claire, 55
“I want to be working on my own projects but I’m so exhausted, when I get home from work, it’s hard to get going. I should be taking care of myself but I’m not.”
Sherlaine, 52
“I do a lot of caring for others. My mum, who is 85, lives nearby and I help out with my two grandchildren who are five and two. I try to do something that is about me occasionally too.”
Sandra, 57
“I support and care for my elderly parents, manage a team of 20 nursing staff, my daughters live with me and I’m engaged to be married. It’s a lot to juggle but I feel grateful for everything.”
Usha, 51
“I have a full-on job and I am an intergenerational carer, which pulls me in lots of different directions. But I am thriving and have won multiple awards for my work. There’s plenty to celebrate.”
Jill, 50
About Fran Monks
Fran Monks is a British portrait photographer. She is best known for celebrating the under-celebrated through her painterly portraits of individuals who are shaping our world. Her website, How To Make A Difference, features her interviews and portraits of remarkable people, dating back to 2004.
Monks’ work has been acquired by the Science Museum London, the National Portrait Gallery, the Thackray Museum and the Bodleian Library. She has exhibited in the Oxford History of Science Museum and the Ashmolean Museum. She has also been widely published in national and international magazines and newspapers. Her photographs are currently exhibited in Examination Schools, Oxford and several Oxford colleges, Lancing College, West Sussex and Selwyn College, Cambridge.
Monks trained as a photographer at the Corcoran School of Art and the Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC, and at Central St Martin’s School of Art in London. www.franmonks.com ▪ www.instagram.com/franmonks
Enfolding nature
A poetic foray into the woods through the lens of a neurodivergent artist, using images, writing and sculpture, illuminates personal and universal dimensions relating to the natural world.
by Jo Dorothea-Smith
The forest is a quiet and contemplative place in which interconnectedness and energy are all around. These spaces cocoon me, offering comfort from the overwhelm I often feel in my urban, modern working life. I started working in local woodlands whilst studying for my master’s degree and, as I have autism and synaesthesia, I become overwhelmed easily by some kinds of sensory input, so immersing myself in this environment brings peace. In Enfolding each tree is carefully selected and wrapped, becoming a temporary sculpture that both conceals and reveals its natural form.
The wrapped trees also serve as a metaphor for the sensory and emotional experiences of autism and symbolise the protective, yet restrictive, layers that surround me. The process of wrapping trees is not just about creating visual art; it’s about extracting a multi-layered narrative from natural surroundings and engaging in a physical, psychological, and political act of creation that reflects my personal perceptions, climate concerns , and feminist reflections. I have an expanded arts practice and have been creating landscape projects for the last eight years, but my grounding is photography.
The act of wrapping is part of my creative process and, although the photographs were initially documents of the transient sculptures, they
later became the work. The trees also become a proxy for my body. The wrapping is a cocoon providing safety, yet the fabric is at great tension. This is how I feel as a woman negotiating many spaces. It is also a reclamation of the forest space as a female practitioner. A couple of years ago I was followed into this woodland by a man who attempted to attack me. Thankfully, I managed to push him away and run to my car. As a result, I have not managed to work alone since then.
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I find that using black and white for these images highlights form over colour and although I use colour in some of these images, it is always muted. The images become very busy, and the wrapping can get lost if the colours are very vibrant; it is also a way of managing my sensory inputs. This act of wrapping is as much about the physicality of the process as it is about mental and emotional engagement and is a way of showing care for and protecting the environment. It also challenges the notion of the art “object” as something that can be taken or owned. When I am finished, I remove the sculpture and return the woodland to its previous state, all within a few hours.
After the sculptures are removed, I find branches that have fallen from the trees and re-wrap the fabric into smaller cocoons which make their way to the gallery space as smaller objects. The wrapping also links to my wider art practice as I have begun joining items with threads when I show the work, most recently in the show Constellations at the Bureau for the Contemporary and Historic Plymouth. These items are usually found photographs, or abstract printed matter. I also make collages in this way. I was thrown out of needlework class at school when I purposely made “bad” sewing because I wanted to do woodwork. This experience shows up in my work as a kind of rebellion.
Facets, cameras, mirrors, and glass are used to capture the unknowable — the nebulous quantum qualities that make matter beautiful. The unseen connections in the forest mirror the invisible connections I feel due to the autistic experience I have and are a way of expressing it. The photons that are captured become essences of the invisible electromagnetic scatterings of the molecular world, they do not matter in a normal tangible sense, but are made visible through the camera’s lens. Imagining that we have the power to catch the uncatchable — experience, light, time — is a central theme in my work. It is an acknowledgment of the futility of trying to apprehend the edges of experiences — forever chasing a horizon.
Above and right
Installation shots from Constellations at the Bureau for the Contemporary and Historic Plymouth.
Light, the ultimate reality, is both elusive and omnipresent. It is the medium through which we see and capture the world, yet it is intangible and constantly in flux. The wrapped trees in my photographs are illuminated, exposing their age and demonstrating the transient nature of existence, even for trees that have an elongated timescale and live much longer than we do. Catching light and putting it in a box, keeping it for when darkness encroaches, is a metaphor I use in poetry for preserving moments and experiences that are otherwise ephemeral. I gained my MA in photography with writing in 2018, and this poetry and prose have now
become an integrated part of my practice — I write, I make, I write again.
The act of wrapping trees is both an artistic intervention and a visual narrative that speaks to themes of containment, protection, and the simultaneous desire for freedom and protection. This integrational experience includes the current surrounding textures of the now, the synaesthetic connections to the far away, and the textures of the past. It is not just a visual memory but an embodied, persistent immersive experience. All of this flows around what is now, what was then, and my imaginings of what might become. My poem Cocoon explores this entwined experience.
Cocoon
I am restricted by it, whilst wishing I was inside Wrap Wrap Wrap
Thoughts flow back to paper, pooling the scatterings of experienced moments. Presented for you to pull the threads, pick, pick, pick.
This poem mirrors the process of wrapping trees and attempts to capture the essence of being enveloped by sensory experiences. It is both an act of creation and a metaphor for the layered complexities of existence. At the core of my work is an attempt to negotiate the world
and my perceptions of it, the moral and political inequalities I encounter, and my struggle to explain these things. The explanation of an inner world that is often markedly different from those around me is challenging. However, this is the work; this is what soothes and grounds me.
About Jo Dorothea-Smith
Jo Dorothea-Smith is a British conceptual artist, lecturer and PhD researcher with autism and synaesthesia who uses photography, sound, moving image, writing and printmaking. Her work is an interpretation of place and person at different connecting points in time. She represents perceptions of space and time with direct relation to the body.
Working primarily with the land, Dorothea-Smith excavates these spaces using photography, historical and scientific data and embodied practices of writing and exploration. These intersections of experience and memory make for an aggregated practice that draws on lived experience and reflects upon society, family, politics and environment. She uses these forms and narratives to re-form her descriptions and experiences of reality.
Towards the end of 2020, defeated by life events, I acknowledged the need to reconnect with my body. What this would mean practically, felt rather vague. I started asking it, “What do you need?” and tried to listen. I soon noticed how my body — rather inert at the time — would stir at the sight of people dancing, not ballroom dancing, but more freestyle, improvised, and experimental. I had never danced, always feeling clumsy, self-conscious, hiding in the shadows rather than seeking the spotlight of attention. Surprising as it was, the desire to move expressively felt urgent. Maybe embodiment was the way to listen to the body? I started small with micromovements, swaying gently while waiting for the kettle to boil, or swirling my hands while walking in a park. It made me smile. I continued, fuelled by curiosity and hope.
Often in times of crisis or transition, I photograph myself to aid processing, distilling, and integrating challenging emotions, so I instinctively knew I would be documenting my venture into embodiment with a camera. Orchestrating dancing
self-portraits during upcoming holidays in the Outer Hebrides felt like a no-brainer. I packed the necessary accessories: a borrowed 35mm lens, a retro shutter release cable, a flowing maxi dress in burgundy and a matching wispy scarf in faded pink. I knew I would be using long exposures to register the impression of movement of both the fabric and my body. And that was it. I hoped the remaining technical and choreographic details would emerge by trial and error, part of my trusted “go with the flow” process.
Act 1: Descending (September 2022)
She stands alone at the edge of the sea, waves lapping around her ankles. Her dark silhouette against the glowing orb, a mere shadow of herself. She scans the horizon and feels the call of the sea; its life force and promise of change. Also the need to cut the cord tangling her, again and again, in relationships and situations that do not really serve her.
When I arrived in South Uist, the weather remained unfavourable and so did my mood. On the penultimate day, the sun came out and I sensed the urgency of the task ahead. It was either now or never. I set off for the beach feeling excited about the novelty of the experience while simultaneously dreading unease, awkwardness and, ultimately, disappointment. Luckily, the beach was empty, the waves were gentle, and the sun was radiating golden light, welcoming me. What could go wrong? Having set up the camera and tested the best distances and shutter speeds, I started moving. How clownish the movements felt! What was I thinking? But I persevered and, soon enough, I eased into a rhythm, my movements becoming more expansive, expressive, and meaningful. They felt like embodied messages, coded through a maze of footprints on the sand, swallowed up
by the sea with every incoming wave and the trajectories of my arms thrown into the air, trailing the scarf along invisible arcs. Affirmations and supplications — I danced for the change I needed so desperately. Shedding and then stepping into some more empowered state of self was palpable. Time and space seemed to blur in the same way as the movement in the images.
Suddenly I gazed toward the sun. It was much lower, the sky was darkening at the edges. I pulled the shutter release cable once more, and again, and all I heard was the tripod collapsing, yanking me out of my reverie. My camera was on the sand, my feet completely in water now, and the waves were coming dangerously close to my camera gear. I packed up immediately, but clarity was there: the need to surrender to the wave of change, despite the fears and doubts holding me back.
Interlude
It was not just the tripod that collapsed on that beach. The silence between my life companion and me grew heavier too. A day after returning from the holiday, I found myself no longer attached. While my relationship ended, I sensed it was the beginning of another journey — a quest for myself, my authentic purpose, my wholeness, and my wholesomeness.
Intuitively, I knew it would mean returning to Uist and dancing on its beaches again. I booked another holiday. The wait proved longer than planned due to cancellations and practical complications and it was rife with personal challenges. Nevertheless, I remained committed to my art practice and self-discovery journey.
Act 2: Emerging (September 2023)
Across the white sands, she comes forth, emerging from the turquoise, frothy waters. Her face boldly turned upwards towards the elements, her body swaying sensuously in tune with the weather, exuding vitality and force. At ease with herself, and the world around her. Recharged, renewed, reunited.
During the second trip, exactly a year later, it seemed I’d turned the corner. Everything felt new with lots of firsts — a longer, solo holiday in a remote place, and driving a long distance on my own. More importantly, for the first time in ages, I felt alive, optimistic, and open. Following the advice of social researcher Brene Brown — “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen” — I showed up and let myself be seen. I spent 10 wonderful days making a bespoke photo book, cycling around the island and across the tidal flats, photographing, journaling, reading, and knitting; all
of the things that I now know nourish and restore me. All the time I thought about the green dress at the bottom of my suitcase. Finally, toward the end of my stay, I took it to Clachan Sands.
I walk a long distance away from the dog walkers and beachcombers. The wind is strong and rather cold. I use the interval shooting mode to save me faffing around with the shutter release cable. After some test shots, I slip the dress on. The wind sears through it and cuts to my bones.
There are ominous clouds over the horizon, but some blueness is peeking through the clouds on
the other side. I look toward the dunes, and directly into the lens — unafraid, defiant even. The clouds shift quickly. I stand still, steady my breath, and tune into the land, the water, the wind, and feel their movements synchronising with my body. I start moving instinctively to their rhythm, as if I want to become one with the bodies of land and water. It is an immersive experience, the wind is tugging at the scarf and dress, the waves are humming nearby, and the dune grass is swaying in unison. By this
time, I know arm movements are my favourite: big, sweeping arcs, charting new trajectories for the next part of my journey, embracing life ahead. It feels as if a phase of transformation is being completed and the next chapter is about to begin. The skies darken and fill the air with rain, only to end a moment later giving room to sunshine and a rainbow, a good omen representing a new, hopeful beginning. A couple walks by, smiling at me. I keep moving with lightness and light, a renewed version of myself.
continued overleaf
Interlude
I returned with a realisation that there was more for me in movement and dance in terms of how they could nourish me therapeutically, and creatively. I started exploring possibilities and they soon emerged as if they had waited for me. I attended experimental dance and movement workshops and learnt about the relationship between the body and space (and also others in that space). I joined monthly Butoh classes, and arranged for one-to-one movement coaching sessions. I read about and watched others dancing in nature, and practised at home and in a park (when no one was looking). I even rented a dance studio. With every attempt, my body grew more expansive, more confident and my connection with it deepened. So did my connection with nature and my practice. It was like a missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle.
Act 3: Embracing (March 2024)
The sea is moody and distant, the sand crisscrossed with eddies of retreating water. The empty beach stretches for miles, the skies feel bleak. It is cold. The black figure launches herself into a playful dance with the elements. She jumps into the air to crash on the sand like a wave and sways in rhythm with the ocean. Aligned. Attuned. Ascendant.
It is my third trip to Uist, for just a few days packed with creative pursuits. It seems to have become a custom to make dancing self-portraits on the beach on the last day. The excuse is valid, though. It has been bitterly cold and I have been busy with bookmaking and printing. By Thursday, my projects are finished, and the weak spring sun is out. I put on thermal base layers and throw on my black cotton frock and black trainers, as there is no way I can dance barefoot. I take a meandering path along the grazing land and see a newborn calf, with its umbilical cord still hanging. I marvel at the new life; it is a perfect reminder that I too have been given a new lease of it.
I get to the beach — a vast, empty stretch of freedom. The sea is out, the sand is damp, and it gives under my feet. The wind nips at my ears, nose, cheeks, and hands. Once the camera is set up with a Lensbaby Sweet 35 Optic, I take off my coat, suddenly feeling very exposed in my
flimsy dress. The thermals offer no protection from the wind. I run to my spot and plunge into a fast-paced dance with lots of twirls and jumps to warm me up. My arms tangle with the scarf as the wind keeps blowing it in my face. I try to use my legs and hips more. I shout and laugh with joy until I feel my heart pumping and I gasp for breath. Invigorated and energised. My trainers soon get soaked, but the compulsion is to continue nevertheless: to move and feel moved by the sheer energy of life, to embrace my new identity, and feel held in return by nature and my creative practice, which now includes dance and movement.
continued overleaf
Coda
It is almost two years since my first trip to Uist and my first, shy attempt at dancing in front of the camera. I look back and see that I have grown as a human, as a woman, and as an artist, through pain and discomfort, loneliness, and uncertainty, but also openness, curiosity, and courage. I see, very clearly, how my creative practice has played part in this journey of empowerment, and how the different threads of photography, art, textiles, writing, and now movement, performance, and video have woven my new safety net — a crafted space within which I can express myself boldly and authentically; a space that continues to nourish me, and which, through the creative
process and embodied practices, opens me to new possibilities, insights, dreams, and sensations, and things that I would not have dreamt about before.
Two years ago, I would not have imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that I would dance on the beaches of Uist and use the dancing self-portraits as part of my portfolio to apply successfully for a BA in Fine Art. Now I have a good reason to return to the island again, and again. This is yet another beginning, another chapter of listening to and engaging with the voice and energy of the body, and of it being my body as well as the bodies of land and water.
“This is yet another beginning, another chapter of listening to and engaging with the voice and energy of the body ...”
TECHNICAL
Technical details
All images were taken with a Fujifilm X-T4 and a variety of lenses: Fujifilm XF 35mm, Fujifilm XF 55-200mm and Lensbaby Sweet 35 Optic. Ania used Lightroom and Photoshop to overlay digital textures onto the images (Act 3).
About Ania Rolińska
Ania Rolińska is a fine art photographer of Polish origin currently living in Scotland. She came to photography later in life but embraced it fully as a creative and therapeutic practice. She combines photography with other media and uses alternative processes and techniques to turn her digital images into tangible, experiential artefacts.
Her introspective self-portraits from experimental movement sessions explore feminine empowerment, embodiment, and deep self awakening, among other things. Inspired by the embodied connection with the environment of the Outer Hebrides, she is embarking on a BA in Fine Art at the University of Highlands and Islands so she can return to North Uist to continue her creative journey. She doesn’t have a website (yet).
www.instagram.com/anzbau
Dearly beloved
In grieving the loss of her grandmother decades later, a photographer uses nostalgia to reimagine childhood memories from the 1970s.
by Sinead Le Blond
Look After It For Me delves into the dual role my maternal grandmother played in my life — both as a grandmother and as a mother figure during my formative years. It’s also taught me how to grieve her loss finally.
In January 2022, I started an online Photography MA at Falmouth University. Early in the course, photographer Celine Marchbank gave a guest lecture and discussed her work Tulip , which documents the impact of her mother’s terminal illness on them both, and A Stranger in My Mother’s Kitchen , which tells the story of Marchbank confronting her grieving process while clearing out the family home after her mother’s death. That lecture was a revelation. Seeing how Marchbank created a visual language to express her grief inspired me to explore and articulate my experiences. This inspiration eventually became my final major project Look After It For Me. The project originated with the memory of a conversation with
my gran over thirty years ago. She asked me to look after a compilation album of Country songs. Although I thought the request was odd, I agreed. She passed away unexpectedly two days later. Her loss was devastating. I lacked the resources to process its impact on me and suppressed my grief, fearing family politics would cause misinterpretations of its full expression. Initially, the idea of tackling such an emotional and unaddressed part of my story was daunting. However, once I’d committed to the process, I enjoyed how it unfolded. My research focused on the fragmentary nature of memories and the mythology surrounding family photo archives. Although I was concerned about the lack of images of my gran and me together, I worked from the principle that memories become distorted, and family photo albums largely present selective versions of family life. Discovering that I could fashion a new narrative from fictionalised memories was creatively, and personally, exciting.
The rhythm of our lives ebbed and flowed from home, through the town, to the beach.
Rock pools, shops, swings in the park, the cool grass in the back garden on a hot day, sandcastles, noisy cafes.
I know they all exist in my childhood, but when I look for them, nothing is sharp.
All I have now are fragments and hazy vignettes.
My mind tries to stitch them together to tell our story.
I had so much fun making the photographs. I aimed to depict vignettes of my early life with my gran, which I remember as full of sunshine and colour, and contrast them with darker images representing the time around her passing. Influenced by Marchbank’s work and Rinko Kawauchi’s visual record of her daughter’s first three years, as it is, I experimented with various
techniques to create dreamlike pictures blurring the lines between past and present. Eventually, I settled on shooting through materials like sparkly chiffon, Vaseline-smeared UV filters, and small Perspex sheets sprayed with water. Combining red and yellow cellophane effectively recreated the Kodachrome colours I remember (or I think I do!) from the photographs of my 1970s childhood.
Home was her.
Rooms foggy with cigarette smoke
Low voices, murmured words.
The radio. The cat.
To represent my gran’s simultaneous absence and presence in my life I made a series of absence portraits, gradually filling an easy chair and a side table with items associated with her. The final image showing the empty furniture signifies the abrupt shock of loss. A further strand of the visual work is The Inventory of Lost Things, illustrations of items I associate with my gran that have been lost over the years. These are interspersed with the photographs in the main body of the project, and also appear as a series of six postcards with accompanying text telling their story. The illustrations were made by my mum and auntie and asking them to contribute was a gentle way to introduce them to the project and involve them.
I used text to support my story; single words and slivers of sentences complemented the partial scenes in my images. Choosing not to include images of my gran, I instead hand wrote a description of her with me as a toddler. This nod to Roland Barthes’ description of the unpublished Winter Garden Photograph of his mother as a child
in Camera Lucida reinforces the ambiguity infusing the work. Is what I’ve written and photographed a faithful representation of events, or a fabrication of my hazy memories? I also loved the idea that every reading of the description could produce a unique vision of the photograph in readers’ imaginations, meaning there could be multiple versions of it in the world.
Originally, I planned to produce a photobook but the project evolved into something else entirely. I wanted to incorporate the cover of the Country song compilation album in the design and needed a format that would unify all the elements. Inspired by a childhood memory of rummaging through a wardrobe and discovering boxes of photographs, letters, and trinkets, I created a memory box.
I aimed to make viewing the project a tactile experience. I attached scans of the album cover to a 12” by 12” shallow presentation box for the outer casing and used textured watercolour paper for the prints, and handmade paper for the text. The prints and text were wrapped in
Blindsided by strangers offering condolences in the street.
Curtains being drawn across the coffin like the end of the Muppet Show.
Burning anger at her for leaving, and everyone else for still being here.
tissue paper and placed in the box along with the handwritten description of the photograph and an envelope containing The Inventory of Lost Things . From the moment they open the box, I want viewers to feel the physicality of the work.
What does the future hold for the memory box? It’s beautiful, but not accessible in its current form. When I showed it to people as a work-in-progress, it sparked lots of conversations about how they had experienced grief. I hope that further discussions can be generated, so I am currently working on turning the project into a zine. In the future, I’d like to make it into a photobook where the challenge will be to retain all the elements of the project.
This work was part of my MA but it was by no means made just to get me “over the line.” It was a labour of true love. There were moments of sheer joy when I made discoveries about my story, myself, and my craft, but I also shed so many tears along the way. It’s changed me, my photography, and my closest relationships for the better, and I don’t think the day will come when I feel it is completed.
My gran once playfully warned, “Leave me alone when I’m gone, or I’ll return to haunt you!” While she may not have endorsed this project any more than she would have welcomed a séance, its creation has revealed a truth: she sparked its genesis, but I am its narrative focal point.
She’d asked me to look after her record. It came out of nowhere.
Her request perplexed me, but I said yes, and thought no more about it.
Two days later, she didn’t wake up.
I didn’t have the language to articulate the shock or the pain.
So I locked her away for years, for fear of the fallout from bringing her into the light.
But now I know.
She didn’t mean the record.
She meant look after everything.
All the little things she gave me that had meaning to her.
All the memories of our time together.
All the love we had between us.
Even the arguments.
Everything.
About Sinead Le Blond
Sinead Le Blond is a Kent-based photographer. From a self-taught background, she recently gained an MA in Photography from the University of Falmouth. Her complex relationship with her birthplace, Margate, and her fierce attachment to the East Kent coast are strong influences on her practice and she is interested in exploring how the camera helps or hinders storytelling, serving as an unreliable narrator in capturing the moments that shape the past, present and future.
As a Fellow at the Margate School, an independent art school in Thanet, Sinead is a member of a flourishing creative community in an exciting environment and is looking forward to greater involvement with it, working collaboratively and as an individual artist. She is also keen to expand her practice to include audio and moving images.
Allie Crewe ARPS is a highly successful British portrait photographer. She won the BJP Portrait of Britain award in 2019 and 2023. She has made renowned work exploring challenging subjects such as domestic violence and the transgender community. As a practising photographer, Allie has held residencies and has been commissioned for projects. This summer, she became one of the latest holders of the RPS Associate distinction.
In addition to awarding the Associate distinction (ARPS) for a cohesive body of work, the RPS also offers an Associate distinction on completion of certain academic courses, including a Master’s degree in photography. This is the route that Allie followed. One might ask why a highly successful photographer would take time out to join an academic course. This is Allie’s story.
Allie describes herself as a full-time photographer. “I think about photography from the moment that I get out of bed to the moment that I fall asleep,” she says with a smile.
Previously, Allie had worked on several highly acclaimed projects. These included Still I Rise for the NHS and Unseen Community, which was the result of a year-long residency sponsored by Proud2bParents, a charity based in Greater Manchester helping parents and potential parents in the LGBTQ+ community.
Receiving the BJP Portrait of Britain award in 2019 led Allie to a residency with the charity SafeLives. She travelled across the UK making I Am. This body of work consists of 53 images of people who considered themselves to be survivors of domestic violence. Allie says she wanted to challenge the common narrative of victimisation and demonstrate that there are people who have regained control from physical, emotional, financial and sexual control. One of her sitters described the group as “strong, brave, feisty survivors, changing the journey from victim to victor”. A selection of portraits of the survivors can be viewed on Allie’s website. Seven of the sitters had to withdraw from the project to protect their safety. This work was featured in publications such as The Guardian, The Observer, and the BBC. The physical exhibition was opened by Queen Camilla.
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Allie then found herself at a crossroads. She had a choice between capitalising on her success or retreating to make new work in private. She chose to enrol in the Master of Fine Arts programme at the University of Ulster. “This gave me a newfound freedom,” she says. “Not only could I make new work, but I found myself able to express a personal sense of integrity. The tutors would encourage me to experiment, and I would go away and try out their suggestions.”
The MFA experience was overwhelmingly positive for Allie. “I was surrounded by people who understood me and the work that I wanted to make,” she recalls. “The tutors were excellent and I found myself with a like-minded group of people. I was there to make new work.”
Allie describes her final project in the programme as her most personal to date. She notes that she started with the intention of making a series of images about other people. However, as the project evolved, she realised that she was working on a body of work that caused her to reflect on her own experiences of childhood abuse. The result is a deeply captivating and moving series, Gather the Bones, which she describes as “an invitation to bear witness to the pain and subsequent journey towards healing that unfolds when individuals embrace transformation.” [Editor’s note: All the images in this article are from this series.]
I was interested in how the MFA course had shaped Allie’s photography. “[It] helped me make work that was even more personal,” she says. “I have always been emotionally connected to my work. And I have always connected with the participants. I count many of the people I have met as close friends today. However, the MFA gave me the confidence to recognise and include my own experience within my work.”
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Gather the Bones is set in a bronze-age forest. Allie created a safe environment where she collaborated with women enabling them to reconnect with the suppressed parts of themselves. In doing so, she also captured a shadow part of her own experiences of childhood abuse.
“These women enact my waking dreams or simply explore the place and respond to it in their own way,” Allie explains.
There is no doubt that Gather the Bones is an intensely personal collaboration between participant and sitter, and this adds to the strength of the work.
I asked Allie about the moment she realised that this work was as much about her as the women who were participating. It began one afternoon when a friend who is a psychologist viewed workin-progress images spread out on the studio floor, she says. The ensuing conversation highlighted the sense of grief captured within the series.
It was this Spring, when Allie was preparing the work for an exhibition, that she fully understood
About Allie Crewe
the strength of her emotional connection to the project. “The realisation that I had made work about myself was huge,” she explains.
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Allie was recently awarded her MFA. She received her ARPS distinction the day before we spoke. I wondered what had driven her to join the Women in Photography group of the RPS. She explained that the master’s programme had provided an environment that was very soul-searching. “I feel that I need a new tribe,” she says. “I have realised that I make work as an activist and that there is a political aspect to my work. This feels like a good group to be in.”
Learn more about distinctions on the RPS website. Path
UK-based photographer Allie Crewe was a recipient of the Portrait of Britain in 2019 and 2023, awarded by the British Journal of Photography. Commissioned twice by Arts Council England, her recent portraits have been featured in The Guardian, The Telegraph, The Observer, Vogue, and BBC News.
Allie is compelled to capture the portraits of people who desire transformation, seeking narratives of resilience and healing. A portrait should reach beyond the surface to be poignant — there is a tender beauty in this. Photography is a poetic force that creates stories with a touch of magic, hopefully unveiling the inner landscapes of those she works with.
By co-creating portraits of community members in her hometown in Italy, this recent graduate uncovered important lessons about her approach to photography, and the presence of beauty in everyday situations.
By Christina Osborne
Stefania Distante recently completed her MA in Photography at the University of Gloucestershire. In her final project, Riconoscersi, Stefania created environmental portraits of everyday people in her hometown of Mesagne, Italy.
Stefania moved to England at age 12 for her education. Her father, who was a doctor, was concerned about the rise in Mafia crime, so she was sent abroad for her safety.
“When I return to Italy visiting family, I find that everything has changed. I started this project because I wanted to find a way of freezing this small part of the world in 2023,” says Stefania.
For Riconoscersi, which means to recognise oneself and to recognise another person, Stefania began by asking strangers if she could make a portrait of them in their place of work. She also put out an open call through social media. The
response was so overwhelming that she could not photograph everyone who responded.
“Everyone that I met takes tremendous pride in their work and I wanted to capture this through my images,” she says. Many of the subjects have run the same business for decades, though the majority of their children have moved to Italy’s cities, causing businesses to close when the owners retire.
Riconoscersi was made at the height of the Italian summer, with temperatures reaching 48C during the day. Stefania began each portrait by discussing her vision with the subject, emphasising the importance of co-creation: “I like to share my passion and vision and I wanted everyone to feel as enthusiastic about the project as I was.” She describes collaboration with the sitter as being an important element of the process.
Luca, Florist
Luca is preparing to inherit his mother’s florist business. His soft expression mirrors his gentle nature, resonating with the delicate beauty of the flower petals. The almost-finished bouquet symbolises Luca’s readiness for the upcoming transition as he steps into his new role.
Antonella stands proudly beside the vibrant array of products cultivated on her family’s land. With her friendly and welcoming demeanour, she engages with customers who are drawn by the freshness and quality of her offerings. The scene speaks of a sense of community as a local stop to support her business, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere.
Many of Stefania’s subjects were not naturally comfortable in front of the camera. She built trust by expressing genuine curiosity in their work and taking an interest in everyone as an individual. Stefania spent on average half an hour with each participant and was on first-name terms with everyone by the end of each session.
“I come across as an extrovert, but I am actually quite shy,” reflects Stefania. “Approaching a
stranger and asking if I can make their portrait exposes a vulnerability on both sides.” Leaning into this vulnerability has undoubtedly added another layer of meaning to the work.
“We pass each other too quickly and we often fail to notice ordinary beauty,” Stefania explains. “Making this body of work has made me realise that while we search for something exciting and thrilling, we overlook the real beauty that is right in front of our eyes.”
student FOCUS
Because she looks like her father, many of the people that Stefania photographed told her stories about him as she made their images. As the local GP, her father was a pillar of the local society. He not only looked after people’s health but cared for their families and acted as a counsellor as well.
“Although he was too unwell to be photographed in his professional role, my father is in every portrait that I made for this project,” Stefania says. “I have
come to realise that I am also in every portrait by showing viewers how I see the world through my photographs.”
Stefania used an 85mm lens for every image, partly due to limited luggage space while travelling with her daughter. As a result, she had to physically move to adjust the framing. The use of one lens helped to create a uniform aesthetic across the series.
From left: Francesca and Rebeccca, Ice Cream Sellers
Francesca and Rebecca are ice cream sellers in a local gelateria. The ambience resembles a scene from a Wes Anderson film, with its meticulously arranged geometry. The shop’s layout is so flawlessly designed that it captivates viewers, prompting them to search for any visual imperfections.
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Musah, Farm Worker
When Stefania was growing up, it was a familiar sight to see local women gathering fruits or vegetables in the fields. Today, this responsibility falls mainly on migrants, usually from Albania or Africa. Musah works full-time on this family-owned farm, tending to the production of seasonal fruits and vegetables.
Maria Carmela, Miller
Maria Carmela manages the only remaining independent flour mill within a 50km radius. This family-owned business has been handed down through generations, although her children have chosen different career paths. Local farmers regularly bring their grain to be processed, and the resulting flour is either sold locally or to wholesalers.
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Pasquale, Mobile Greengrocer
Pasquale is a travelling greengrocer. In this image he is leaning with an air of confidence against his trusted “Ape” car as a testament to his life’s labour, proudly displaying the fruits of his land. Every detail tells the story of dedication and endurance. The well-worn appearance of both the greengrocer’s attire and his vehicle bears the marks of countless seasons spent in diligent service. Yet among the signs of wear, there is a gleam of care evident in the newly repaired copper, a symbol of maintenance and preservation.
Stefania asked the sitters not to smile, but to look straight into the camera lens. “I wanted the audience to feel as if they were meeting my subjects when encountering these images.” The result is a series that creates eery, almost harrowing depictions. Initially, Stefania felt hesitant about giving directions to the sitters, fearing that it might come across as bothersome or disruptive. However, as she became more confident, she discovered that the participants found this guidance helpful.
It was a discovery to realise that a level of trust developed because people appreciated that she was competent in her role.
For the majority of the images, she has stepped back to include the background, although in some images the protagonists’ personalities were so strong that she deliberately stepped forward to crop out much of the background.
She rarely took more than 10 photos per sitting, making both portrait and landscape images. She
student FOCUS
selected the final format during post-processing. She describes her approach as having a light touch, with editing limited to straightening, adjusting the crop, the mid-tone or shadow areas and the colour balance.
Stefania processed each image after the shoot and provided the sitter with a copy of the final photograph to approve. The participant was able
to share this on social media. The project became so popular that some images received more than 30,000 likes and comments.
As a result of working on this project, Stefania changed from being seen as “the Doctor’s daughter” to being recognised as “The Photographer.” Today, the residents of Mesagne wave, stop to talk and invite her into their homes for coffee.
Irene, Wedding Dress Designer
Irene is a talented wedding dress designer known for her intricate and exquisitely crafted gowns. With a deep passion and meticulous diligence, she brings her customers’ dreams to life. Throughout her creative process, Irene is accompanied by Spike, her trusted dog, providing her with company and comfort, especially during the most crucial deadlines.
Massimo, Gelatiere
Massimo is a skilled “gelatiere” (ice cream maker) and manages two shops. He dedicates himself tirelessly to crafting exceptionally flavourful ice creams, catering to both residents and tourists alike. The demands of the business leave him with no respite during the peak season, requiring him to generate sufficient income to sustain operations throughout the year.
Titti, Social Worker
Titti, a social worker, has devoted her life to helping young individuals who have veered down the wrong path, leading them into lives of drugs and crime. She has assisted numerous peers of Stefania from school. Titti remains a significant presence in the community, having spearheaded and successfully implemented the creation of a skate park through funding from the local government.
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About Stefania Distante
As a young immigrant from Southern Italy to the UK, amidst a backdrop of escalating crime and Mafia influence, my journey has deeply shaped my perception of belonging and identity. Separated from my roots and family, I embarked on a quest to redefine notions of home and connection. Through my lens, I delve into the essence of human experience and the fleeting nature of the present moment. Photography became my solace during a period of recovery following brain surgery, prompting a profound appreciation for capturing the significance of now and preserving personal narratives.
My work explores diverse themes, from childhood and illness to family dynamics and societal subjects, all encapsulated within the fabric of life. Central to my practice is an exploration of human connection and the multiplicity of perspectives that shape our worldviews. I strive to portray individuals authentically within their social environment, honouring their unique stories and underscoring our shared humanity.
Collaboration is at the heart of my artistic process, where individuals are empowered to contribute their voices and narratives, fostering a genuine understanding of their lived experiences. This collaborative ethos not only enriches my work but also facilitates a deeper exploration of identity and interconnectedness.
In addition to completing a Master’s Degree in Photography at Gloucestershire University in 2024, I am honoured to have received recognition for my fine art portraiture with an Honourable Mention from the IPA in 2023.
www.stefaniadistante.com
We offer a positive and empowering space and seek to drive awareness of the importance of women photographers past, present, and future.
As a member of the RPS Women in Photography group you’ll be part of our friendly and supportive community of like-minded female and female-identifying photographers.
Our online meet-ups provide a platform for you to share your images, receive respectful feedback on your photography, and engage in meaningful conversations with fellow members. Your unique work and perspective will always be valued in our collaborative space.
You’ll find opportunities to publish your work in WE ARE Magazine and on the RPS Women in Photography website. We encourage students to enter their photography in our regular competitions, which will be seen by wider RPS and photography communities.
The RPS offers discounted membership to students. From there, you’re just a step away from the Women in Photography group.
Find out more: rps.org/groups/women-in-photography
