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WE ARE Magazine Team
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Editor
Rachel Nixon
Designer Liz Benjamin
Contributing Editor
Frankie MacEachen
Copy Editors
Miranda Gavin
Victoria Medina
Proofreaders
Isabelle Desgranges
Dr Jane Robb
Victoria Robb
Women in Photography Group Committee
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Chair
Sue Wright
Secretary
Louise Knaresborough LRPS
Exhibitions Coordinator
Christina Osborne
Social Media
Livvi Grant
Treasurer Vacant
Members without Portfolio
Member Adviser
Julie Derbyshire ARPS
Photobook Editor
Dr Eli Pimentel ARPS
The RPS Women in Photography (WIP) Group’s objective is to facilitate the celebration, education and collaboration of female and femaleidentifying 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
Valerie Mather ARPS
Brick Fields, Dhaka
"Around 300 brick fields surround Dhaka, Bangladesh — a major source of greenhouse gas emissions and air pollution. Bricks are made by hand, then carried by workers to kilns for burning. Wages are paid per trip to the kilns. Families live in small slums near the brick fields."
Phoenix and Toad
“Two girls — my daughter Phoenix, age 10, and our 6.5-month-old Great Dane puppy Toad — on our evening walk at one of our local nature reserves in Bournemouth in June 2025.”
Ann Owen
Scan to order your printed copy of WE ARE Magazine from Peecho.
Brunkhorst
Christine Fitzgerald
Anne Mason-Hoerter
Qian Li ARPS
Evgeniya Strygina
Antonina Mamzenko
Angela Crosti
Dr Nell Darby
Agi Modlinska by Christina Osborne
FROM THE EDITOR
Hello!
Some mornings, I put on a weighted vest and head out for a walk down to the Vancouver shoreline. My shocking pink, 16lb burden and I make our way at a decent pace, stopping for a few minutes halfway to take in the view, breathe in the air, and feel the breeze.
As I've stepped with both feet and aching joints into the realm of the perimenopausal, this has become one way for me to take charge of my health, both now and in the future. It’s a very small act of agency, to be clear, but I keep coming back to this word — “agency” — when reflecting on the women featured in this issue.
Here, you’ll find a wealth of photographers who are using their art as a means of understanding, coping with, and taking control of personal and societal challenges.
Arrayah Loynd’s beautiful and raw series All Roads Lead to Salvation is a visual interpretation of the impact of living for years with chronic pelvic pain while navigating medical misogyny, misinformation, and incompetence.
In Northern Ireland, Allyson Klein shares how wandering in nature with her camera releases her from the “constant chatter” in her head brought on by ADHD coinciding with the onset of menopause. Photography is “a beacon of hope and possibility”, she writes.
Faced with brain fog, again thanks to hormonal upheavals, Anne Mason-Hoerter sets herself the task of deconstructing, photographing, and reassembling plants from memory — with striking and sometimes distorted results.
While some of this issue’s artists tackle inward concerns, others examine threats to the wider world.
Christine Fitzgerald dives deep into museum archives, creating a visual lament for extinct species and a warning for what we may yet lose.
Inspired by a cult sci-fi film, Wendy Carrig sets foot on the otherworldly landscape of Romney Marsh to draw attention to the climate emergency. And Qian Li ARPS uses second-hand clothing finds to create surreal spreads that highlight the overproduction of the fast-fashion industry.
Togetherness
Community and shared experience are what hold us together in the face of all these challenges.
“Fangirls” are often ridiculed, but Abbie Jennings shows how the joy and togetherness they experience in preparing for concerts can create powerful bonds as well as amazing outfits.
Amid the growing popularity of wild swimming, Antonina Mamzenko charts how people living in bigger bodies are finding their own ways through the waters, connecting with both nature and community.
Olivia Hemingway spends time with the women of York Minster — from police and stonemasons to choristers and even the bishop. Through a series of commissioned portraits, she shines a light on
their vital contributions to this ancient building and those who visit.
Further afield, Tiffany Fairey and Ingrid Guyon examine how communities in former conflict zones around the world are putting photography to work for peace and justice. While “war photography” is a well-established genre, less well known is how photography can be used at the grassroots level — often by women — to drive forward more peaceful futures.
We all rise when we share information and insights. I’m grateful to Julie Derbyshire ARPS for discussing approaches to navigating a challenging fine art market environment with writer and consultant Meike Brunkhorst.
Thanks — and many congratulations — to Anastasia Potekhina FRPS. Here, she shares how she secured the RPS' highest distinction with a series of black and white self-portraits made entirely by phone.
Congratulations also to this issue's cover photo winners, Valerie Mather ARPS and Ann Owen, for their
brilliant images. You'll also find the cover competition runners-up inside these pages.
Heartfelt thanks, as ever, to all of the editorial team volunteers who have worked over the summer months to help bring this issue to life.
Through their diverse approaches, these artists — and more that I sadly haven’t had space to mention here — are using photography as a transformative tool for self-expression, healing, community-building, and catalysing wider awareness and change. As Chlöe Lodge eloquently points out in One Thing I Know, “Through photography, women are understanding the strength of what we hold within.”
I hope these stories inspire you to look to your own strength and agency over the coming months.
History was made in 2024 when women won 40% of the seats in the UK Parliament — a powerful step forward for representation and equality. To celebrate this milestone, the RPS Women in Photography group launched the 40% Project, inviting female and female-identifying photographers from across the country to create portraits of all 264 female MPs. Since its launch, the project has gained remarkable momentum. As of September 2025, 245 MPs had been paired with photographers, and 59 portraits added to the online gallery. Many more are on the way — from shoots being scheduled
to portraits in post-production. These images are personal, creative, and full of character, showing MPs not just as politicians, but as people — rooted in their communities, causes, and values.
Our open calls have sparked an overwhelming response, with more than 50 students and 30 RPS members expressing interest. The enthusiasm and generosity of RPS Women in Photography members have made the project a truly collaborative effort. We’ve also welcomed contributions from Hundred Heroines and photographers involved in the 209 Women Project, many of whom have since joined our group.
MPs have been photographed in settings as varied as the iconic chambers of Parliament, bustling high streets, and deeply personal locations that reflect their work or identity. Each portrait tells its own story — of service, representation, and individuality.
Looking ahead, our sights are set on a public exhibition and printed publication, ensuring these
portraits have a lasting legacy. To achieve this, we are actively seeking funding from supporters, including the Arts Council, the Speaker’s Art Fund, and law firms committed to equality and representation. We’re deeply grateful to members who have already shared ideas, contacts, and offers of support to help us make this vision a reality.
Get involved!
The project is well underway, but you can still be a part of it:
■ Photographers needed – A few MPs are still waiting to be paired.
■ Support the project – Help us find funding, sponsorship, or connections.
■ Be part of history – Your portrait could feature in our exhibition and printed publication.
We’d love to hear from you. Contact WIP Chair Sue Wright: wipchair@rps.org
See the portraits made so far: rps.org/groups/women-in-photography/the-40-project/the-40-gallery
In Our Hands: A collective reflection on climate, creativity, and change
by Sue Wright
As photographers, we observe, interpret, and document the world around us. With In Our Hands: Stories of the Environment, the RPS Women in Photography group invited members to focus on one of the most urgent issues of our time: the climate crisis.
The result is a powerful and moving collection of images that explores the fragility of our environment while offering hope and possibilities for change. From intimate community moments to sweeping landscapes under threat, each image contributes to a wider narrative of resilience and awareness.
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Photographers responded to four categories: Human Impact, Nature & Wild Places, Everyday Earth, and Hope & Renewal. Together, the images form a timely selection that showcases the beauty of the natural world, documents its vulnerability, and highlights the actions — big and small — being taken to protect it.
Greenpeace, known for its long-standing use of photography to support environmental justice, lent its voice to the project. Angela Glienicke, picture editor at Greenpeace UK, said: “The images captured by the RPS Women in Photography group are thought-provoking, powerful visuals showcasing the natural beauty of our planet’s fragile ecosystems as well as documenting the destructive
environmental impact we have. Crucially, they also present sustainable solutions and inspire hope.”
Many of Greenpeace’s most iconic campaign images have been captured by women, including Marizilda Cruppe, Kate Davison, Suzanne Plunkett, Elizabeth Dalziel and Abbie Trayler-Smith. Like them, the photographers of In Our Hands are using their art to witness, ask questions, and inspire action.
Some images in the project are quietly devastating — scorched landscapes, polluted rivers, disappearing glaciers. Others pulse with hope and action: rewilding, volunteers restoring habitats, community gardens flourishing. The emotional range is wide, but the message is consistent — the future of the planet is in our hands.
The project is both a creative celebration and a call to action. Every image is a testament to the artist’s commitment to telling the truth about our world, and to imagining a better one.
To accompany the exhibition, a beautifully printed photobook has been produced to provide a tangible, lasting record of the project. It is available to order here
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In Our Hands is a shared act of creativity, concern, and care. It stands as a reminder that while the challenges are great, we are not powerless — and that images, like actions, can shape the future.
Explore the online gallery: rps.org/groups/women-in-photography/wip-competitions/in-our-hands-stories-of-the-environment
View the printed book on Issuu: issuu.com/royalphotographicsociety/docs/in_our_hands_-_stories_of_the_environment
Your story in sound and vision
We’re thrilled to invite members to take part in the Short Stories Video Project, a new creative adventure from RPS Women in Photography. This is your chance to step beyond the still image and explore other ways of storytelling — whether that’s sharing your portfolio in a dynamic slideshow, weaving a personal narrative, or creating a documentary-style piece using stills, video clips, sound, titles, or even your own voice.
The deadline for submissions is 1st November, 2025, with members voting from 2nd to 30th November — not as a competition, but as a celebration of the imagination and vision of our members. The selected works will be showcased across our platforms, including the RPS WIP website, publications, social media, and on Vimeo.
So, what story will you tell? Get creative — experiment, play, and inspire — and bring your vision to the screen.
Find out more: rps.org/groups/women-in-photography/wip-competitions/short-stories-video-project
“Publishing will always be at the centre. There is something wonderful about putting your work out there.”
Sinead Le Blond
Sam Buchanan and Sinead Le Blond met on an online MA course at Falmouth University in 2022. Now graduates, they are members of the Biscuit Books press. Their university cohort ranged from people like Sam and Sinead, who had no previous academic exposure to photography and the arts, to commercial photographers and full-time artists.
The group evolved just over halfway through the MA from peer learning sessions. Several members were working on photobooks at the time, and so, in addition to support and encouragement, the group morphed into a fledgling publishing collective.
The name “Biscuit Books” came about from a quip by classmate and fellow cohort member Chris Finnegan. All members of the Biscay (from the Shipping Forecast) cohort, he affectionately referred to them as “the Biscuits”.
As final major projects were prepared for submission, the collective bought a range of ISBN numbers so members could officially register the books under the Biscuit Books imprint. Eight of the collective chose to continue Biscuit Books after graduation. They aim to continue the mutual
support shown throughout the MA, to encourage each other in experimenting, making and exhibiting new work, and to provide collaboration opportunities, as well as a publishing medium.
Biscuit Books has recently shown work at two book fairs. The first was the Books on Photography (BOP) festival in Bristol in 2024. The second was the A Bigger Book Fair in Peckham in May 2025. Biscuit Books will be at BOP again this year with more books and a large table. The fair takes place at the Martin Parr Foundation on 11th and 12th October.
I asked how it felt to participate in the book fairs. Sinead replied, “It was great! A noticeable shift was feeling like we belonged. Starting the MA, some of us felt a little like imposters, but at these, we felt as though we were at home in the wider community, particularly in Peckham.”
To date, Biscuit Books has published 12 titles. Member representation at the book fairs changes, depending on availability and sometimes location. Attending gives members an opportunity to represent Biscuit Books and talk about the work, as well as network with the wider photobook community and enjoy the array of other fantastic work available.
Support
Many RPS Women in Photography members have self-published their work, and I was intrigued by the idea of a collective. I was equally interested in what the future holds for Biscuit Books.
Both Sam and Sinead are very open about the collective’s ambitions and recognise the opportunity Biscuit Books presents. Focused on getting the foundations right, the website is being refreshed and they are exploring expanding membership beyond the original Biscay cohort.
Sam explained, “None of us know quite
what it will look like, which is exciting. There’s certainly been an element of adjusting to life after completing the MA, and we need to get the foundations right.” Sinead added, “Publishing will always be at the centre. There is something wonderful about putting your work out there. However, we know that we want this group to foster collaboration and experimentation. Providing support for other people is a beautiful thing.”
Biscuit Books is an exciting collective venture powered by the work and enthusiasm of its members.
WORK IN THE BISCUIT BOOKS CATALOGUE
The collective has a broad and interesting catalogue, with a sample from across the membership below.
Circadia by Sam Buchanan
Circadia examines the impact of modern life on our health, exploring the science of sleep and our circadian rhythms. This interesting abstract work was made using Polaroids. Each image is subsequently decayed in commonly used stimulants and sedatives as an integral part of their creation. The unpredictability of the agent has given a unique biological quality to each image. The work is presented as a newspaper. Prints are also available.
Look After It For Me
by Sinead Le Blond
This work explores Sinead’s maternal grandmother's dual role as a grandparent and mother figure during her formative years.
Too intimate for gallery walls, the original work is presented as a memory box — something that might be stumbled upon in the depths of a wardrobe, preserved for years, long forgotten.
[Editor’s note: Read more about Sinead’s project in the September 2024 issue of WE ARE Magazine.]
Causality
by Andrew Gilbert-Hill
With our climate changing at an increasing rate, this photographic project questions consumerism and explores our everyday consumption choices.
This series is a collection of beautiful alternative prints presented in book form.
The Ornithologists
by Brian O’Callaghan
Right Here, Right Now. It's Historical, Big, Huge and Beautiful
by Ed Clews
This softback book features a mixture of portraiture and environmental images in the archbishop’s walled garden at Bishopthorpe near York.
The garden is maintained by Brunswick Organic Nursery, which provides a work-like environment for adults with learning disabilities. The project evolves every year.
Set at the RSPB reserve at Minsmere, this project explores the world of the almost exclusively male birdwatchers: who they are, their equipment and activities. It also records the reserve, its history and heritage, the landscape, architecture and infrastructure of managing wildlife and visitors.
The Minsmere marshes, which had been drained in the 19th century for agricultural purposes, were flooded again in World War II to deter invasion. Now water levels are artificially maintained for the benefit of wading birds. The context is the threat of rising sea levels and the construction work at nearby Sizewell for two additional nuclear reactors.
We Tell Ourselves Stories
by Sue Vaughton
Suburban Fantastic
by Chris Finnegan
Chris writes: “For some, the suburbs are the pinnacle of middle-class advancement. A landscape of little kingdoms. For others, they are a trap of drab conformity. Where the dreams of youth go to die.
“My internal suburb has a nostalgic topography… It was mapped on a BMX and surveyed by climbing trees.
“Suburban Fantastic… takes the reader on a journey through a playground of shifting spaces and geometries.” It is presented as a softback book.
Sue writes: “In my earliest years, my parents lived and worked overseas. It was in Bahrain that they met, and it was there that I was born. During the 10 years that followed, I lived in France, Libya, Tehran, New Orleans, Houston, Nigeria, London and Derbyshire. Each relocation occurred within a year or so of the previous one.
“As my mother and father transitioned from one country to the next, and establishing and dismantling these temporary homes became a recurring practice. Among their belongings were often souvenirs they acquired when living in each place.
“This work examines the heirlooms they left, with all the memories, cultural associations, and references that accompanied a cathartic investigation has led to new insights into my peripatetic early years.”
It’s Just A Field
by Valerie Williams
This work explores the relationship between words, images and the secret past lives of places. It weaves together a ghostly tale and images of land local to Valerie, that many would consider “just a field”.
FAVOURITE PHOTO BOOKS
Readers recommended a diverse array of publications by female photographers, from the legacy of nuclear testing, to fragments of everyday life, and the powerful nature of water.
Klara and the Bomb by Crystal Bennes
The Eriskay Connection
This is a multi-layered photobook and historical essay that uncovers the connected legacies of nuclear weapons development, early computing, and the overlooked contributions of women in these fields. Klara von Neumann, wife of the renowned mathematician John von Neumann and one of the first computer programmers, is the centre of the story.
The book utilizes archival photographs, declassified documents, and Bennes’s own fieldwork images of historical sites associated with atomic testing and early computing facilities. She weaves a complex narrative, illustrating how computation and thermonuclear research evolved in tandem. Early computers, like ENIAC (the first programmable, general-purpose digital computer), were built to model atomic detonations, funded by military projects, and staffed partly by women whose programming contributions have been marginalized.
Bennes’s project also pays attention to the colonial aftermath of nuclear testing. In particular the Marshall Islands, where many atomic and hydrogen weapons were detonated between 1946 and 1958 and became sites of displacement and contamination.
The book alternates poetic colour sequences with dense text and black-and-white archival materials. Klara and The Bomb is organized thematically and also includes conversations with the historian of science Peter Galison, and others, which deepen the analysis.
Klara and the Bomb by Crystal Bennes
Trish Crawford ARPS ▪ St Catharine's, Canada
Aqua Vitae by Jan Bowen
Self-published
Aqua Vitae includes abstract patterns of water and shows the intricate details of colours and lights. The photos were all taken in a local area and were part of a project over a series of months displaying the power of the nature of water.
The book resonates with me for several reasons. The images were taken in a local area personal to me as it is the place my grandparents used to visit, and that I have grown up with. They reflect the powerful nature of water, and the emotional and calming aspects which I can relate to, alongside the importance of the environment and nature.
Hayzelden
Berry Hill by India Marney
Self-published
Faith, calling from the land, and hope, Berry Hill is an impressive documentary photobook that tells the story of a declining family business: a local farm. Through striking black-and-white photography and evocative text, it follows a three-generation farming family, charting their lives and the passing of the farm from Stanley and Joyce, the grandparents, to their son Ken, and finally to Jim, the current owner. For decades, they have supplied fresh vegetables to the Bournemouth area. Though Jim is certain the business will end with his generation, he continues to work the land, meeting hardship with resilience and hope.
What I love about this book, created by India Marney — a photographer dedicated to documenting our connection to the natural world — is that her images do more than record the daily life and struggles of a local family farm. They carry a fine art sensibility that powerfully conveys the enduring hope of Berry Hill.
Qian Li ARPS ▪ Twickenham, UK
Stacey
▪ Bishops Stortford, UK Aqua Vitae by Jan Bowen
Berry Hill by India Marney
Interior of Berry Hill by India Marney
Interior of Aqua Vitae by Jan Bowen
My Nonhuman Friends by Nika Sandler
Self-published
I am endlessly fascinated by the book My Nonhuman Friends, created by the artist Nika Sandler. Her work sensitively conveys the tender and delicate bond between humans and cats, while challenging the anthropocentric view of the world.
Splinter by Eva Vermandel
Hatje Cantz
Sometimes a book finds you at exactly the right moment. Eva Vermandel’s Splinter is one of those. Her photographs feel like fragments of memory — some unsettling, some achingly tender — all bound together by a sublime, almost ethereal use of light. It is the kind of light that feels like it belongs to the subject, not the photographer, as if it simply existed and she had the grace to notice. There’s a rare lightness of touch here, the kind that makes you lean in rather than step back. In a world where so much photography tries too hard to impress, Splinter trusts its own quiet strength.
The images need no embellishment, no loud gestures. They breathe, they hold, they speak for themselves. Each page feels like a private encounter, offered without expectation, and that intimacy is what makes this book so extraordinary. It’s the kind of work that reminds me why I fell in love with photography in the first place — and is a book that makes my heart soar.
UK
Allie Crewe ARPS ▪ Manchester,
Natalie Sevaux ▪ Bristol, UK
My Nonhuman Friends by Nika Sandler
Splinter by Eva Vermandel
Interior of Splinter by Eva Vermandel
Body of Work by Trina O'Hara
Snap Collective
Body of Work transcends the conventional photobook as a showcase of an artist's portfolio. O'Hara's offering goes further, presenting readers with a combination of generous, captivating images.
The book distinguishes itself by openly sharing the artist's creative process, motivations, and philosophical underpinnings and is thoughtfully curated to provide not only the same visual pleasure as a stroll through a museum, but also a source of inspiration for readers to move their own practices forward.
Body of Work encourages us to explore our own creative potential and embark on artistic journeys with fresh eyes and is more than a display of an artist's achievements; it is a catalyst for artistic growth and self-discovery.
Rita Godlevskis ▪ Toronto, 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
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.
Body of Work by Trina O'Hara
Interior of Body of Work by Trina O'Hara
ONE Thing I Know
Photography has taught me a lot about myself. I thought I had patience, but I do not have the patience to record wildlife or to set up trick shots. I envy those who can. I am happiest exploring the world in front of me through the lens of my camera.
I have always told stories but photography is enabling me to add a visual element. I am presently building up a project to tell the story of the coastline where I live and to record how it is affected by people and our changing climate. I do have the patience to go back to the same area time and time again to record how the coastline has changed.
I get joy from recording the things that others miss and showing our ever-changing world with all its peculiarities. If I can find something with a touch of humour, I am doubly happy.
My family and friends are used to me saying that my camera is demanding to be taken for a walk. I can hear it now demanding to find the next story to be recorded.
Evelynne Rogers ARPS
Maghill, UK
instagram.com/evelynnerogers
Telling stories, making memories, the importance of resilience, and drawing on our inner strength. These and other insights feature in this issue’s reflections on lessons learned from photography.
When my dad passed away recently, my photography provided me with so many memories. The photographs of my dad, the places we’ve all been to, the funny moments, made me and my mum smile, laugh and cry.
Wendy Morten
Kent, UK instagram.com/myphototrial
The hardest lesson I’ve learned as a photographer is how unpredictable the income can be. Even with experience, awards, and strong networks, the creative industries are financially unstable — and right now, it’s harder than ever to make a consistent living.
Economic shifts, funding cuts, and the oversupply of talented photographers mean work can be sporadic, however skilled you are. I’ve learned to budget carefully, plan for fallow periods, and diversify my skills.
In the current climate, keeping a second job or an additional income stream isn’t a sign of failure — it’s a smart, strategic choice that allows
you to sustain your creative practice without burning out. Photography is still deeply rewarding work, but making it a viable career requires realism, resilience, and flexibility.
Allie Crewe ARPS
Manchester, UK www.allie-crewe.uk
Photography taught me that people love emotions — real, unfiltered moments — not forced smiles or staged poses. My favourite images aren’t the perfect ones; they’re the quiet, honest ones. A thoughtful gaze, a laugh caught off-guard, a tear just before it falls — those are the moments that matter. I’ve learned to wait, to watch, and to listen.
The best portraits happen when people forget the camera is there. We connect more with what’s real than what’s polished. Photography isn’t about capturing smiles — it’s about capturing truth. That’s what stays with us.
Irina Godden
Hastings, UK
instagram.com/zoompro_photography
Photography has taught me to slow down and really look. Not just to see what’s in front of me, but to notice the quiet moments unfolding in the periphery — the way light falls on a shoulder, the expression just before a smile. It’s in those small, unscripted fragments that I’ve found the most honesty, both in others and in myself.
As someone whose work centres around people, ritual and place, photography has become a form of connection. It has reminded me that presence matters. That holding space, observing with care and approaching others gently can be a deeply powerful act. Through the lens, I’ve learned to be more patient, more curious and, ultimately, more human.
Livvi Grant Somerset, UK instagram.com/livvicegrant
Photography has taught me how to step into spaces with my ideas again. For years, inherited cultural expectations pulled me away from the darkroom and the art room, away from experimenting, making work to be displayed, or speaking out too much. The camera, and the stories it helps me unfold, remain my way to reclaim that ground.
Now, I work with text and image side by side to bring hidden stories forward. What began as a quiet practice has become a deliberate act to name what is overlooked, to frame what is ignored, and to place it where it cannot be unseen. I wish I could tell the young me that one day I would rest the camera over my heart again where it belongs.
Savraj Kaur
London, UK
www.40childrenofbhopal.com
ONE Thing I Know
My journey as a photographer has taught me that photography doesn’t in fact begin with the camera in our hand, it begins with what we have inside of us.
From here, we pull on threads of curiosity and attraction. Threads we weave through the tool we choose, connecting creator and subject. The more we acknowledge and honour our inner light, the stronger it becomes.
Through photography, women are understanding the strength of what we hold within. We are reigniting our courage and spirit. We are reconnecting with our creative freedom, strength and voice. And ourselves.
Through the lens, women are finding that we weren’t ever lost at all.
Chlöe Lodge
Oxford, UK instagram.com/ chloelodgephotographer
A life on hold: Turning pain into art
A visual telling — and a personal essay — on the mental and physical impacts of living with chronic pelvic pain while dealing with medical misogyny, misinformation, and incompetence.
by Arrayah Loynd
“Do no harm”— Hippocrates.
My personal experience of the medical system is the antithesis of this fundamental principle:
1998:
Concern about the large size of my growing foetus is arrogantly dismissed by my obstetrician after measuring my stomach with a tape measure. This leads to the near loss of my baby’s life, third-degree tears, and severe nerve damage from a vaginal delivery that should never have been allowed to proceed. She was 5.5 kg at birth.
2002:
Being triaged to the bottom of the list in the Emergency Department (ED) and waiting 12 hours for urgent treatment because I wasn’t presenting in a neurotypical way to pain, despite notifying the triage nurse of my autism and dissociation in medical settings. The quieter I am, the more serious it is.
2023:
A physiological reaction to a drip-fed medication that was administered (without consent) in the ED is dismissed and attributed to anxiety, despite the very visible body tremors and distress I was experiencing. They twice assured me that the drip had been stopped, but had just moved it behind me so I couldn’t see it anymore. The tremors continued for two days post-discharge and left me deeply traumatised from the medical assault perpetrated by the hospital.
Holding pattern #1
A life stuck in a holding pattern of pain and loss with no end in sight.
Another specialist, another theory, another test, another inconclusive result.
Hippocrates’ theory of the “wandering womb” attributes the displaced womb as the source of hysteria, incompetence, and irrational behaviour in women.
My abdomen is knotted with fibrous tendrils of hot pain that bind my organs together to move as one, with protruding mounds of inflammation that rise and fall but never fully retreat. The nerves in my abdominal wall are trapped in fibrous tissue so thick and unyielding that it causes unrelenting pain within my bladder, genitals, and down my leg. Movement within certain sections of my intestines and bowels leaves me screaming on the floor in agony. I’m 55 and look seven months pregnant.
I have been living like this for three years — limited movement, no social life, no work, no life at all, really. Most days are spent in a reclined position to ease the pressure and pain of my severely distended abdomen. Pyjamas have become my go-to, not just because they are comfy and warm, but because it is the only thing I can wear. Some days I experience an exhaustion so deep that all I can do is clutch a hot water bottle and curl into the foetal position. When I get that tired, I know I am in for a rough ride. I know that it is the start of an inflammatory flare-up that will be so painful that I won’t be able to speak. It may last a day, three days, or a week. Predictability is not part of the package.
For a long time, the pain used to come and go. Now it is constant. Up until three years ago, I was swimming laps four times a week, walking, and dancing. Now I can barely move.
My pelvic pain has a long history that I am only now beginning to piece together. From the age of 12, I experienced periods akin to a nine-day labour each month: debilitating pain, swelling, vomiting, shaking, fainting, and exhaustion from extreme blood loss.
continued overleaf
Then, in my thirties, came the even heavier blood clots and severe blood loss each month. I would start bleeding, and it just wouldn’t stop. So they removed my uterus and a large melon-sized fibroid tumour that was attached, puncturing my bladder in the process.
What followed were multiple visits to the ED. My abdomen would swell to triple its size, hard to the touch and filled with burning hot, stabbing pain, bowel upsets, and the deepest exhaustion. Each time, they would do an ultrasound on my stomach and then dismiss me, saying there was nothing wrong. This went on for another six years. I ended up on opioid painkillers before they finally removed my ovaries. Still, no answers or support as I was thrust into surgically induced menopause at 38. I was refused HRT for nearly 10 years by my GP. My autism and ADHD (AuDHD) symptoms were so
severely impacted by the loss of hormones that I became deeply depressed, suffered debilitating anxiety, and became suicidal. In 2019, I changed doctors and started oestrogen. I think it saved my life.
Unfortunately, with the increased oestrogen came an increase in pelvic pain, inflammation, and bowel disruptions. Then, three years ago, my abdomen suddenly and permanently ballooned, accompanied by red-hot burning pain that stopped my life in its tracks.
First, I saw a gastroenterologist. Nothing was found, and so I was told, with barely concealed disdain, that I just needed to lose some weight.
I was referred to a gynaecologist. I received a phone call a week before my first appointment, during which I was told that I was wasting his time, that it was impossible for me to have endometriosis because I no longer have a uterus.
Pain as punishment
It is far easier for medical specialists to continue prescribing ever more medications to mask symptoms rather than being medically curious enough to actually want to investigate the source of the pain.
I feel it in my waters
The pain of pelvic and abdominal lesions binding my organs together in a relentless burning fury. It isn’t visible on the surface and is therefore dismissed as not being real.
“None of this is normal. None of this is acceptable.”
Gynaecologist #2: No physical exam beyond a gentle feel of my stomach. He determined, with his grossly outdated training and knowledge, that it was impossible for me to have endometriosis due to my age and being menopausal, and that he saw no point in exploring any further. My request to see my medical notes revealed: “Has a history of mental illness.” I never saw him again.
Pain specialist: A slow and expensive process in treating my chronic pain with physiotherapy (useless), medication (limited pain relief at a huge cost to my mental health), and abdominal Botox injections (still waiting for treatment after four appointments cancelled by the clinic since February).
Gynaecologist #3: A woman, and for the first time, I felt heard. My needs were prioritised to stabilise my hormones and then address the cause of the pain. 1. Start progesterone: My 16-year-long crippling anxiety disappeared. 2. Start testosterone: Brain fog cleared, more energy, inflammation improved. And then she stopped listening (or did I stop being understood?) Despite it already being investigated and dismissed by previous specialists, it was suggested that I download a meditation app for IBS.
One step forward and then 100 steps back. I’m so exhausted. My life stands still.
None of this is normal. None of this is acceptable.
Sadly, my experience is not unique. In 2024, a gender bias survey by the Australian Government found that two in three women had experienced bias and discrimination within the country’s health system.
“For too long, women have been suffering unnecessarily. They’ve been dismissed, ignored and called hysterical. We know that bias against women in the health system leads to poorer health outcomes,” said Ged Kearney MP, the former assistant minister for health and aged care.
Women’s pain is poorly understood compared to men within the medical profession. This leads to women's pain being minimised, dismissed and mistreated.
The pain gap #1
LEFT
The wandering womb #1
There is only a thin membrane between what the world sees and the lived reality of my life. I may seem fine as I mask the pain, but if you excavate, even just a little, you will find it is all completely raw.
RIGHT
The wandering womb #2
The theory of the wandering womb attributes the displaced womb as the source of hysteria, incompetence and irrational behaviour in women. Women’s physiological symptoms are still viewed through a medically misogynistic lens with a devastating impact on their health and quality of life.
This, then, is the unendurable pain of living in a body that is always too much and yet never enough. Being both autistic and having ADHD creates a difficult and often irreconcilable combination of attributes that battle within the neural pathways of my brain, with no clear wins to claim for either side. I am perpetually exhausted, confused, and misunderstood.
My nervous system is relentless in how it perceives and reacts to the world around me; an onslaught of everything and all at once, unfiltered and with such intensity. Memories are stored as sensory experiences; nonlinear, layered, and embedded within my psyche in a way that makes it hard to know where one starts and the next one begins. The enormity of feeling everything all of the time becomes so physically pervasive and so mentally unbearable that I want to rip myself apart to be free of it.
In a world that operates within a neurotypical framework, what I say and who I am is thrown back at me, in the form of accusation. Being misunderstood becomes a trauma in itself; feeling powerless, voiceless, and bound by a set of unspoken rules that were made for anyone but me. I feel othered in every way, and my body is determined as untreatable.
continued overleaf
Sing the song, play the game, don’t breathe
I am so deeply traumatised from years of medical misogyny and gaslighting that I have a PTSD response and dissociate before, during and after every medical appointment.
Expressing myself creatively helps me to process and understand what I cannot find the words for, turning my pain into art until I’m seen and heard. This series, All Roads Lead to Salvation (20242025), is a visual interpretation of the mental and physical impacts of living with my chronic pelvic pain while dealing with medical misogyny, misinformation, and incompetence. Sixteen years in limbo.
I’m drawn to imagery that is imperfect, messy — finding elements within an object or a scene onto which I can project my own unease and discomfort. A dead bird, a piece of bubble wrap catching the light, a muddy road — all indiscriminately captured and kept for some unknown future use, a vast archive of images that will form all of my future work.
Causal nexus
(Image printed, painted, waxed and then re-photographed). An inflammatory response — a burning, twisting, stabbing pain that is all-consuming.
The concept and form of a series is never clear to me when I start. I just know that I need to find release. So I open up my archive and begin, choosing images that pull at me. It’s like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, finding the right pieces that fit together aesthetically and emotionally for whatever I need to process in that moment. Once the body of work starts to take form conceptually, I can create with more intention to fill in elements of the narrative that are missing, often using self-portraits as a means of
placing myself within its centre.
Digital intervention is minimal and consists of two things: colour and layering images. Colour is used to convey meaning within my work, sometimes with bold saturation and sometimes so delicately as if to soften the impact of the subject matter for my own psychological safety. When layering images, I let the mistakes and messiness become part of the imagemaking, adding to the conceptual mapping of my life — a visual testimony of everything that I am.
About Arrayah Loynd
Arrayah is a conceptual photographic artist whose work explores themes of memory, trauma, neurodivergence, the female experience and otherness. She works with altered/expanded photography, archival imagery and mixed media.
Born in the UK and raised in Australia, Arrayah works as a freelance artist and image consultant and has taught photography at various educational institutions in Australia, specialising in concept development, colour management and fine art printing.
Arrayah’s work has been featured in Australian and international publications and photo festivals, and received accolades from LensCulture, the Head On Photo Awards, PhotoLucida Critical Mass, and the Australian Photography Awards, amongst others. Her work has also been exhibited in Australia, the USA, China, Europe and the UK and is held in private and public collections around the world.
Arrayah has produced two monographs that were both selected as finalists for the Australian & NZ Photobook Awards in 2024. www.arrayahloynd.com ▪ www.instagram.com/arrayahloyndphotographer
A woman’s place
Art galleries of all sizes are closing their doors or scaling back. At the same time, women artists remain underrepresented in the art market, even though they are growing in prominence. Fine art photographer and WIP member Julie Derbyshire ARPS discusses approaches to navigating a challenging environment with independent writer and art marketing consultant Meike Brunkhorst.
MB:
A few years have passed since The Guardian published an article reporting on gender disparity in the arts, citing examples of paintings by men selling for 10 times more than women’s paintings, and women literally being written out of art history.
EH Gombrich’s The Story of Art is probably the most frequently cited case of women artists being written out of art history, as the book has been at the heart of UK art education for generations. Even the most recent edition includes only a negligible proportion of meaningful entries on women artists. Books are traditionally considered sacrosanct sources of knowledge and have predominantly been authored by men, while mediums and processes associated with women have long been deemed inferior. For my series Mythical Tales, I cut, folded, shredded and weaved pages from Gombrich’s book – activities women have traditionally been allowed to do – to visually subvert the dominant narrative and illustrate our unfaltering striving to be heard and seen.
The same article mentions how female artists are dropped by galleries on becoming pregnant, and that buying their work may be considered risky as they would not be as committed to their careers as their male contemporaries. In essence, this mirrors the glass ceiling encountered by many women in other fields. How does this compare with your experience?
My practice is less a direct response to a personal defining moment than an expression of deeply held beliefs that have manifested over the years. I went to a highly academic all-girls school and left believing anything was possible; going to university was a given. I feel lucky to have worked in environments where I did not experience direct discrimination while observing the world around me.
Having children was more a temporary subsumption of identity than a career sacrifice. Priorities naturally shift, and I felt the need to reinvent myself. I began studying for my first photography degree when my youngest was still at primary school and my two older children were at secondary school. It took me four years to complete my BA as I juggled study around childcare commitments and a part-time job.
My first BA project was overshadowed by my father’s death, and my caring responsibilities intensified while I was studying for my MA as both my mother and sister became very ill. My practice has always been incredibly important to me, but I am aware that it frequently had to take second place, which I am sure is the case with many women artists who tend to bear the brunt of family obligations.
RIGHT
From the series Liminal
From the series Liminal
This certainly doesn’t sound like a lack of commitment — quite the contrary. And concepts and narratives can only benefit from lived experience.
Indeed, my first solo exhibition was inspired by very personal events and served as a means of processing grief and loss. I keep returning to motifs in my work that symbolise aspects of the fragility and transience of life, often inspired by the aesthetics of classical still life paintings.
Your work shares many characteristics with the Old Masters. What draws you to that particular period in art history?
I can’t explain why I feel so connected. For me, objects speak, and I am particularly drawn to
the genre of vanitas paintings and depictions of transitory items caught in a specific moment.
Art can have healing effects on the soul, and flowers are the perfect subject. Their beauty providing comfort in a world dominated by conflict, unrest and fear, their fragility a reminder of the shared value of all life. I hope my work inspires people to take a step away from loud and harsh realities to appreciate the special and precious aspects of being.
The era is often referred to as the “Golden Age” of painting for the masterful use of light and shadow and for the realistic depiction of everyday life.
When looking at historical paintings, I envision the artist carefully arranging the still life and capturing a moment that has long passed by the
From the series All We Find, All We Leave Behind
time the paint has dried. The art of photography is all about light, and I pick up on the principle of making something mundane look more interesting. I highlight the metaphorical qualities of foraged dead plants or a half-eaten apple, often juxtaposed with crafted or repurposed objects.
Photography has traditionally been considered separate from the main fine art market. It is encouraging to learn about examples of the gap closing, with Phillips recently integrating its previously separate ‘Ultimate’ platform with a focus
on photography into its broader contemporary auction.
Photography is difficult to position within a fine art context, especially in the UK, which tends to be more focused on social documentary. Paintings are unique by definition, while photographs can be infinitely reproduced, especially in our digital age.
I see things photographically and work in projects and series rather than single pieces to articulate a theme. The title for a body then acts as a lyrical mantle for the individual iterations.
From the series All We Find, All We Leave Behind
“For me, the medium of photography is the final distillation of a creative process that encompasses acts of fabrication, manipulation and disruption.”
Your visual language is very subtle and quiet, more feminine than feminist.
I believe you can be feminine and feminist at the same time. Feminism reaches beyond confidence, agency and identity expressed through bodies. I consider feminine sensibilities an asset and believe in the power of quiet subversion, while self-portraiture is not how I want to express myself. Perhaps this is an essentially English or a generational trait. I grew up in a small, very private family and was brought up to be strong and independent within myself without proactively or publicly claiming space. The parameters may have shifted, but the external pressures to conform are as strong today as they were then.
Photography allows me to articulate what otherwise would remain unsaid. For instance, the process that led up to Mythical Tales was driven by anger. I literally destroyed the book by pulling it apart. In the process of creating ceramic components, some of the paper disappeared in the heat of the kiln, which struck me as quite poetic.
This reminds me of an expanded definition of photography offered by Photo London director Sophie Parker, who said, “Photography can include sculpture, painting, performance, fabric, moving image, and even sound.”
Examples of more experimental approaches
presented in the curated section of the fair are always a highlight. For me, the medium of photography is the final distillation of a creative process that encompasses acts of fabrication, manipulation and disruption. These reflect my interest in the relationship between two and three dimensions, which I explore through crafting objects that I then re-present on the flat photographic plane, as well as through physical and digital manipulations.
I couldn’t agree more with Sophie Parker, photography does do so much more!
Who or what would you consider your main influences?
I tend to look back through art history for reference points and realise that many issues are still wholly relevant today. A notable example is Rachel Ruysch, who achieved international recognition in her lifetime and whose magnificent paintings sold for more than Rembrandt’s.
I have always been fascinated with the Enlightenment period and the sense of optimism it evokes, even though women would have been far from independent. I keep returning to the social critique of Jane Austen, in particular the character of Elizabeth Bennet, who personifies intellect, integrity and autonomy within the constraints of a strictly patriarchal society.
My happy place is standing on a mountain, in solitude and at one with nature, liberated in the awareness of my insignificance.
The contemporary art market is closely linked to economic and political events. The latest report by Art Basel and UBS highlights the interdependencies between the high end of the market, with billionaires buying and selling at auction and smaller galleries expanding their portfolios to make up for shortfalls. At the same time, some galleries are closing their physical spaces, while others experiment with nomadic models in collaboration with property owners and developers. I am particularly excited that London will have its very first art fair dedicated to galleries run by women at a time when female artists contribute to a greater share of the combined turnover generated by galleries, as well as an increase of female artists represented overall.
It’s encouraging to learn that some galleries are adding to their rosters as this provides opportunities for artists who are not yet represented. A timely reminder that we are all part of the same ecosystem and that diversity is key to sustainability as much in the arts as it is in nature.
But how to get on the radar of established and new players? I met my last gallery on Instagram and gained first-hand experience of moving from physical space and fair booth to occasional popups and online viewing rooms.
Surprisingly, even smaller dealers list social media as a negligible source for attracting new buyers, according to the Art Basel/UBS report. With social media fatigue setting in, this may also eventually become true when these galleries look for new artists. I would always recommend a more bespoke approach that doesn’t rely on any one channel but combines digital platforms with inperson socialising. Developing your own voice and perseverance are key.
That reminds me of the early days of my studies when I received an essential piece of advice to develop a narrative that is both true and accessible. Algorithms don’t favour still lifes and landscapes, but these are my favoured genres.
In the real world, I greatly enjoyed being part of a larger community of artists at Kindred Studios and continue to work as part of a collective of artists who cover a large variety of disciplines. I am also naturally drawn to other creatives who follow similar principles to mine, especially if they are women and also work in photography.
From the series Flora Dislocata
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From the series Flora Dislocata
After four happy years in a very busy urban environment, I have just moved into a new studio at Chiswick House and Gardens. Being based in a building of historical significance suits my practice and feels like an extended artist residency. I am particularly excited about responding to the gardens that are considered the birthplace of the English Landscape Movement of the early 18th century.
I look forward to seeing the works coming out of your new studio. In the course of this conversation, I noticed parallels between your creative practice and aspects of navigating the art market. Both rely on a process of research and resilience, on recognising the best tools and reading between the lines. And the final image often belies the time and many steps it takes to reach a successful outcome.
From the series Mythical Tales
About the authors
Julie Derbyshire ARPS is a photographic artist whose practice is research based and process led. Informed by art history and by lived experience, she explores themes of fragility, transience and the universality of our shared human condition.
Derbyshire combines the allure of beauty with an undercurrent of disquiet, this opposition providing a vehicle to interrogate the contradictory nature of our world. Often minimal in appearance and presenting a study in positive and negative space, her constructed images involve photography in a process of revelation, concealment and absence.
She approaches photography as an instrument of illusion, to beguile rather than recite. By exploring the potential of the photographic object to conjure new meaning, Derbyshire invites viewers to reflect on what lies beyond the image.
Julie Derbyshire holds an MA Photography (Distinction) from London College of Communication (UAL) and a BA (Hons) Photography (1st Class) from the University of Westminster. She lives and works in London.
Building on a former career in international media and advertising, Meike Brunkhorst is a cultural entrepreneur who applies her marketing communications expertise to the support of independent artists and cultural organisations.
She is fully bilingual in English and German with experience in copywriting, translating and editing on behalf of private and corporate clients. As a freelance art writer, she contributes reviews and interviews to independent publications, including Trebuchet and FAD Magazine
Her particular interests lie in international and intersectional collaborations, the amplification of underrepresented voices, and cultural practices that address environmental and ecological concerns.
A space traveller. An otherworldly landscape. A ticking clock. How this photographer took a step in front of her lens to highlight some of the most pressing issues of our time.
by Wendy Carrig
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The vast and infinite horizons of Romney Marsh, where nature and nuclear live in symbiosis, are (for now) Britain’s only desert. In this strange and otherworldly landscape, Rapunzel-like towers of mythological proportions — once powerful symbols of industry — appear redundant in a seemingly desolate wasteland. This oft-forgotten land has inspired a profusion of science fiction from H.G. Wells to Doctor Who
The Woman Who Fell To Earth is a response to the climate emergency viewed through the lens of a fictional space traveller. The title is borrowed from the cult sci-fi film The Man Who Fell To Earth, where an extraterrestrial crash-lands on Earth seeking water for his drought-ridden planet. This was a project I had no idea I was going to create. I didn’t even know I was a fan of science fiction. Signing up to take part in the Circle.Return arts initiative, with its strict seven-day timeframe, proved to be the catalyst, eventually leading me to adopt an alternative persona. Mixing beach finds with industrial landscapes and self-portraiture, the work also encourages conversations on gender equality, visibility and loss. Leading us to ask: When does science fiction become science fact?
Created by photographer Helen Roscoe, the Circle.Return is a unique, female-led artist initiative that challenges
photographers to create new work by responding to the work of the previous photographer in a chain, but without knowing what that will be until it is uploaded. Then the seven-day clock starts to tick. I already knew I wanted to create work responding to the most significant issues of our time — uppermost being the climate emergency — but I wasn’t sure how I would be able to achieve this given the time constraint and my locale.
The War of the Worlds
The writer H.G. Wells, known as the father of science fiction, lived on Romney Marsh.
Dungeness Nuclear Power Stations
continued overleaf
Day One – I was to follow on from the series of skateboarders that fellow photographer Dvora had documented under London’s South Bank, which she described as “their world”. I began listing all that inspired me about my world and adoptive home of Romney Marsh — flat land, big sky, infinite horizons, and ever-changing sunsets marking the days as they set either side of the distant water tower.
Day Two – I found a small circuit board washed up on the beach.
Separately, I had been culling books that I felt no longer represented me, including a 1970s space annual with no female storylines, and where the few female characters were outdated stereotypes. I’d recently been watching all the Star Wars films.
Day Three – I knew exactly what I was going to do. Just before sleep the previous night, thoughts of climate change, desert landscapes and “other worlds” collided, without order and in such a rush
that within seconds I knew everything. In the mix was my cultural icon, David Bowie, both as an alien wandering the desert in The Man Who Fell To Earth, and as Ziggy Stardust, his most famous alternative persona. And as the water tower became a space rocket, and the washed-up circuit board became a map, I saw myself taking on an alternative persona, that of a space traveller, rewriting the narrative and becoming The Woman Who Fell To Earth
Creating the work
I’ve spent my whole career behind the lens, usually working with teams of creatives. I rarely work alone, and I’ve never been interested in being the subject of my work. But I didn’t have anyone around to photograph, and I knew that the best person to tell this story was me.
Trouble with Lichen
A third of the UK’s flora can be found at Dungeness including over 150 species of lichen. Trouble with Lichen, written by John Wyndham in 1960, is a work of science fiction with a storyline on anti-ageing and female empowerment.
Self-portraiture gave me some interesting challenges — racing to catch the 10-second self-timer with the camera balanced on a pile of pebbles, negotiating an uneven shingle beach in a “spacesuit” fashioned from oversized motorcycle leathers — and reminded me how good it felt to use my photography for fun and indulge in the sheer pleasure of creating. I experienced a wonderful sense of play. Beach finds became space invaders and starships, and I deliberately created confusion with scale, so that small became big, and big was disguised and veiled. In reality, they are piles of rubbish, mainly plastics, washed up on our shore at every tide. Polluting our seas. Damaging nature.
Self-Portrait1
The Woman Who Fell To Earth
A galaxy far, far away
After visiting Grayson Perry’s latest exhibition, I was inspired by his words: “I feel the landscape of our imagination is laid down in childhood… we are always constrained and shaped by the geography of our earliest experiences… The wellspring of our mature output comes up from the deep strata of our upbringing.”
I wondered why I had turned to space to tell this story, and whether space had played any part in my upbringing. Most of our pop culture had come through the television, and much of that was science fiction — Doctor Who, Thunderbirds, Lost In Space. On the news, we watched rockets launch and men walk on the moon. The soundtrack to all of this was Bowie — Space Oddity, Starman, Life On Mars — and during that record-breaking hot, hot summer of ‘76 while The Man Who Fell To Earth was showing at the cinema, with Bowie as a smartsuited alien desperate to save his own planet from drought, the UK was experiencing a real drought of its own. Many streets had standpipes and we experienced the intensity of our first-ever heatwave. Corner shops sold Zoom and Rocket ice lollies, Mars and Milky Way, chocolate melting in the summer heat. We really were being fed a complete space diet. The world was obsessed with space.
But science fiction was still a scary place, with very few women. Until “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” Star Wars. The first space adventure that was fun, light-hearted and had a strong woman in a lead role. Space finally felt like a safe place.
But the reality was there were very few women in space, or space fiction. And when I went to art college, there were very few women studying photography. I’m often asked why I chose to become a photographer, and I have given many reasons over the years. But it was really that I always knew there was more. I didn’t want to stand on the sidelines.
I’ve been fortunate to travel widely throughout my career. Locations that inspired me from the start were the deserts of the American West and the otherworldly landscapes of Iceland. Maybe that’s why I moved to the Marsh. In hindsight, I can see how the landscape seeped into my work, with many of my fashion editorials shot abroad having many of the elements that I was seeing here: arid terrain, abandoned industry, and telegraph poles that march off into distant horizons.
An escape
Before Dvora’s skateboard story, there had been a powerful but mournful thread running through the Circle.Return, with sadly many of the posts about loss. One photographer referred to her work as The Dead Parents Club , which, unfortunately, I was a recent member of. I wasn’t ready to share my true emotions, but I did want to create work that was honest and real and somehow reflected how I was feeling. And there lay my dilemma. So in creating an alternative persona I was able to show isolation and loss, and a space traveller seemed to be the perfect guise. Space, I imagine to be a fairly lonely place. But also a good escape.
When big events happen, we often seek an escape from harsh realities. I originally migrated here after experiencing loss. I found the landscape
calming and inspiring. It doesn’t look like the rest of the world. So it was a real escape. Pop culture can also give us escape, a window to another world. When Putin invaded Ukraine, I watched all the Harry Potter and Lord Of The Rings films. I needed to remind myself that good will overcome evil. It gave me hope. And when my mother died, I watched Star Wars
We all have stories to tell, and there are many ways to tell them. Some of them are hidden, even from ourselves. This one took me by complete surprise. If someone had asked me to create a singular body of work that attempted to address some of the most important topics of our time — the climate emergency, ocean plastics, the visibility of women, loss — and all within seven days, it would have felt an impossible challenge.
The Claws of Axos
An early Doctor Who series with this title was filmed at Dungeness Nuclear Power Station.
RIGHT TOP TO BOTTOM Tousda, Arrival
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It takes a pint of water to cool those vast machines in the desert, every time someone asks AI a question.
Signing up to the Circle.Return forced me out of my comfort zone, encouraged me to create in a new and unexpected way, and marked a step towards becoming visible again. The Woman Who Fell To Earth is, of course, more than just the title of this work. It also means coming back down to Earth, coming back to reality.
The nuclear power station is now being decommissioned. But I recall another heatwave when high temperatures forced the reactor to be shut down.
And the time we were told not to drink our tap water. Last summer, during the same period, the Perseid meteor shower passed over, a massive radiation spike was recorded at the water treatment works, and a UFO was spotted over the power station.
Too much heat, not enough water, and meteors flying overhead. I thought I’d created a fantasy with The Woman Who Fell To Earth, but it seems there is more reality out there than I could have imagined. Science fiction becoming science fact.
About Wendy Carrig
Wendy Carrig is a British-Irish photographer working between London and the Kent Coast. A graduate of Salisbury College of Art, she began her career photographing women peace protesters at Greenham Common while studying for her degree. Her current practice combines commissioned work and personal projects, with storytelling always at the heart of her creativity.
Her photography has been exhibited in the National Portrait Gallery, the Royal Photographic Society, and the Houses of Parliament. Wendy’s work has also been recognised by the Taylor Wessing Photo Portrait Prize, the Marilyn Stafford FotoReportage Award, and with gold awards from the Association of Photographers.
Wendy Carrig is a founding member of the f22 group of AOP women photographers, created to challenge gender disparity within the photographic industry. She is the patron of MA Photography at Arts University Bournemouth, and an associate lecturer in BA Photography at Oxford Brookes University. www.wendycarrig.co.uk ▪ www.instagram.com/wendycarrigphotography
A lament for the natural world
Diving deep into museum archives, the author confronts today’s urgent realities of extinction and environmental loss in a volume of carefully crafted images that honour photographic pioneers and historical techniques.
by Christine Fitzgerald
Growing up in a small town surrounded by woodlands, streams and farm fields in Quebec, Canada, I developed a profound reverence for nature — a passion that still shapes my practice today. My new photobook, Requiem, is a visual meditation on the fragile wonder of life and the legacy of natural history practices that have contributed to our understanding of the world around us. Drawing on my residencies at the Geological Survey of Canada, the Canadian Museum of Nature, and the Natural History Museum in the UK, the book is inspired by my longstanding fascination with historical catalogues and collections.
Throughout my artistic career, I have explored the complex relationship between humans and the natural environment, addressing issues such as the illegal wildlife trade, climate change, and the vulnerability of species and habitats. Collaboration with scientists, conservation organizations, and
museums is central to my creative process, promoting a multidisciplinary approach that broadens my perspective and amplifies the impact of my projects.
In developing Requiem , I found myself in dialogue with the legacy of 19th-century British female photographers such as Anna Atkins, Julia Margaret Cameron and Cecilia Glaisher. Atkins, often credited as the first person to publish a photobook ( Photographs of British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions, 1843), used the cyanotype process to document botanical specimens. Cameron, known for her expressive, poetic portraits, elevated photography to fine art. Glaisher’s delicate photogenic prints of ferns transformed specimens into exquisite objects of wonder. Like these trailblazing women, I work at the intersection of art and science, drawing on history and my personal experiences to explore the fragile beauty of nature.
Great Auk (Extinct) Natural History Museum, Tring, UK
A fusion of past and present
During my artist residencies, my goals were to investigate historical specimens linked to extinction, as well as the contributions of Arctic explorers to natural history. To make the most of my time, I arrived at each institution with a well-defined research plan. Working closely with museum staff, I immersed myself in collectors’ archives — poring over scientific notes, diaries, letters, provenance histories and classification records — to inform my work. These collaborations were invaluable and enhanced my knowledge and creative process by strengthening the connection between species, time and place.
I photographed these once-living specimens on site and then transformed these images in my Ottawa studio, reviving 19th- and early 20th-century photographic methods to produce prints and plates. This fusion of past and present not only honours the ingenuity of early female photographers but also confronts the urgent realities of extinction and loss in our time.
Completed Print, Pigmented Duo-toned Gum Impressions on Palladium Print
Murre Egg – Canadian Museum of Nature, Ottawa, Canada
Great Auk Egg (Extinct) – Natural History Museum, Tring, UK
Raven Egg – Canadian Museum of Nature, Ottawa, Canada
At the Canadian Museum of Nature, I had a unique opportunity to collaborate “across time”. While researching the museum’s historical photograph collection, I discovered glass plate negatives created by Percy Taverner over a century ago. Taverner (1875–1947), the first ornithologist at the museum, was a key figure in the early days of Canadian bird conservation. I was especially drawn to his images of bird nests — intricate structures that showcase the instinctive ingenuity of birds. Although Taverner’s photographs were intended for scientific documentation, I was captivated by his careful arrangements that highlighted the uniqueness of each nest. Further
research revealed that, by coincidence, the nests had been collected just a few kilometres from my childhood home, deepening my personal connection to the project.
Working with historical glass plates is a new aspect of my practice. My own use of historical photographic techniques resonates with Taverner’s process of using a large box camera and handcoated glass plates. At the museum, I photographed Taverner’s original plates on a light box, then digitally merged these images with scanned distressed collodion plates. From these composites, I created digital negatives that I used to produce contact prints. The resulting “Taverner | Fitzgerald” series
Taverner | Fitzgerald Nest No.1695, Chestnut-sided Warbler Canadian Museum of Nature, Ottawa, Canada
“If I Were King” Wrapped Bird Nest
Natural History Museum, Tring, UK
“Society
Pages” Wrapped Bird Nest
Natural History Museum, Tring, UK
reimagines Taverner’s original plates, bringing the ornithologist’s conservation influence into the present era.
Even the best-planned residencies can bring surprises, and often it is these unexpected discoveries that prove to be the most fascinating. I experienced such a moment at the Natural History Museum in Tring while exploring its storage cabinets with the curator. Tucked away in a cabinet, I found parcels wrapped in newspapers dating back over a century. Inside were bird nests collected by William T. Foster (1867–1915). The yellowed newspapers transform the nests from biological specimens into artifacts rich in historical
significance, enabling viewers to gain a better understanding of the colonial world that Foster inhabited. In Requiem, these nests are presented through fragments of their original newspaper wrappings, inviting viewers to contemplate not only what has been preserved, but also the broader cultural and historical context — and what is absent.
continued overleaf
While bird-related images are central to my book, I also include other visuals that are essential to its broader narrative. For example, I explored the legacy of Orkney-born Dr. John Rae (1813–1893), who mapped the northern coast of Canada and stood out for having adopted Indigenous knowledge to survive in harsh Arctic conditions. Rae participated in the search for the lost Sir John Franklin expedition of 1845 and, based on Inuit testimony, was the first to confirm that the ships’ crew had perished. Rae’s controversial report caused public outrage and overshadowed his remarkable achievements, including the discovery of the final navigable link of the Northwest Passage. In Requiem, I include a map annotated by Rae, images of specimens he collected, as well as photographs of his ancestral home in Orkney, which I visited in 2024. By incorporating subtle Venetian red and gold pigments into my prints, I recognize Rae’s unheralded contribution to natural history, while visually transporting these
Arctic specimens into the context of today’s global warming crisis.
Requiem also features images from my most ambitious work to date: a multidisciplinary collaboration with geoscientists and engineers who transformed a two-dimensional fossil photograph from Anticosti Island in Quebec — evidence of Earth’s first mass extinction — into a three-dimensional, photo-based metal sculpture. By merging art, science, and technology, this work bridges the immediacy of photography with the deep timescale of ecological history. Using cold gas dynamic spray, microscopic metallic particles were fused onto aluminum, echoing the elemental, layered geological processes that shaped our planet. Inspired by Louis Daguerre’s daguerreotype of fossils, Deep Time reimagines early photographic realism, extending the notion of the photograph as a “mirror with a memory” to modern times, and inviting viewers to learn from the past to inform the future.
Deep Time
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Crinoid Fossil – Geological Survey of Canada
From exhibition to book
Much of the artwork featured in Requiem was showcased in 2024 at the City of Ottawa’s KarshMasson Gallery, following my receipt of the Karsh Award. The multimedia exhibition — comprising video, soundscape, and 46 predominantly handcreated artworks — was the result of extensive planning and close collaboration with the curator, city staff and installation experts. The exhibition ran for 11 weeks, included two public engagement events, and set a new attendance record for the gallery.
Building on this momentum, I drew from the exhibition to create my book. The exhibition not only provided content and invaluable experience but also shaped the book’s creative direction. Much like the teamwork needed to plan and mount the exhibition, the book’s development relied on close collaboration with a designer, publisher, copywriter, and printer.
The installation zones and interpretive materials developed for the exhibition formed the foundation for the book’s chapters. These texts were revised and expanded, allowing for a deeper exploration of
the stories behind the work. Recognizing Canada’s two official languages, all exhibition materials were produced in both English and French, a commitment that carried over to my book. This bilingual approach not only reflects my French-Canadian heritage but also broadens the book’s reach. While the exhibition and the book were distinct and demanding projects, the experience of one greatly enhanced the other. Both were ultimately incredibly rewarding, with the book enabling me to share my work with a wider, more diverse audience.
At its core, Requiem is an elegy — a visual lament for what has been lost and a warning for what could still disappear. By presenting each specimen with reverence, I aim to rekindle our sense of wonder and promote reflection on our role as stewards of the natural world. In a time of increasing ecological uncertainty, Requiem stands both as a tribute and a challenge: urging us to remember, to envision new possibilities, and — most importantly — to resist accepting the unimaginable loss of our planet’s unique and irreplaceable beauty.
“Requiem is a visual testament to nature’s fragile beauty and a warning for what we stand to lose.”
Christine Fitzgerald
Requiem is published by The Magenta Foundation and distributed by University of Toronto Press. The book is released in September 2025.
NOTE
I wish to thank Dr. Melissa Rombout, whose unwavering support and insightful guidance helped shape Requiem. I am also immensely grateful for the expertise and generosity of time extended to me by the curators and archivists at the Canadian Museum of Nature in Ottawa, Canada, and the Natural History Museum in Tring and London, UK.
About Christine Fitzgerald
Christine Fitzgerald is a photo-based artist from Ottawa, Canada. Her work investigates how photographs shape our perceptions of time, loss, and impermanence. Her practice is distinguished by the integration of 19th-century photographic processes with digital technologies, expanding the medium’s expressive possibilities.
Fitzgerald’s work has appeared in over 40 exhibitions, and her photographs are held in private collections worldwide and in important Canadian public collections. Supported by grants from the Ontario Arts Council, the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Canadian Ocean Literacy Coalition, her work has been featured by CBC/Radio-Canada, The Washington Post and National Geographic. In 2016, she was named Fine Art Photographer of the Year at the International Photography Awards, and in 2023, Fitzgerald received the prestigious Karsh Award from the City of Ottawa for her significant contribution to photography. In 2024, Fitzgerald was inducted into the Royal Canadian Academy of Arts. www.christinefitzgeraldphotography.com ▪ www.instagram.com/christinefitzgerald1 AUTHOR’S
Faced with a declining memory, the artist attempts to recreate plants from her childhood garden, with beautiful and often distorted results.
by Anne Mason-Hoerter
I have always been curious about how memories can become distorted over time, especially those connected to items we encounter in the present. It is also fascinating how emotions and stress influence these memories, adding layers of complexity and depth to our experiences. This fascination has had a profound impact on my artistic vision.
Growing up in Canada, I was surrounded by a vast and diverse array of plants and trees that my grandfather, an agronomist from Ireland, had planted in our garden in Ontario. I was continually fascinated by the different ways in which the plants grew, their dynamic movements, and how they transformed in response to environmental changes and seasonal challenges. My memories of this place have always remained vivid and detailed, enabling me to mentally return there whenever I wanted. When I first embarked on this project 10 years ago, I was primarily interested in how my memories
of the plants and the garden had changed over time. Unbeknownst to me, I was also entering perimenopause, and — during this project — I began to experience an unusual fading of my memory, commonly referred to as “brain fog”.
Initially, I thought I was experiencing earlyonset dementia. During that time, there wasn’t as much discussion about menopause-related brain fog as there is today, especially not at the doctor’s office. I did not exhibit any typical symptoms of perimenopause, which led to my being classified as “atypical”. I was told that my memory issue was simply a part of aging, stress, or my diet.
I had unanswered questions and no support, which left me anxious and feeling alone. Because of this, I decided to explore my experience of memory loss and distortion that began during perimenopause through this project, using myself as a subject. I called it Lucid Recollections
To create an experience that captures my ongoing distorted memories, I select various plants from my childhood in Canada — most of which I can find in Germany, where I now live. I disassemble the plants and scan and photograph each part. I like the raw, flashbulb effect of lighting from the scanner, while the digital photograph offers more dimensions. I feel the scanning and digital photography combined result in almost surreal movement and shapes.
I then compile all this data into a file. After six months, I revisit the file and give myself 24 hours to reassemble each plant from the images, using Photoshop. This process mirrors the challenges I face in my daily life.
I work like a painter — constantly adding and subtracting the many layers in different orders until I produce what I see in my head when I close my eyes. I create only one final image of each plant, and then delete the source material to symbolize the end of this distinct moment and memory.
Of all the plants I have captured so far, I found that milkweed was the most complicated image to recreate, because of its seeds. The image that I had remembered consisted of the plants’ pods opening, which would happen at the end of summer, usually when it was time for me to go back to school. Symbolizing the end of summer, it was a bittersweet image, and it was hard to recreate because the image in my mind lacked detail.
Antirrhinum
Hyacinth
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Helleborus Spiderwort
Water Lettuce
Tillandsia
Viscum Album
After some years, I am now reaching postmenopause.
I have noticed that my process has become challenging over time, and the plants are becoming increasingly distorted and losing detail. I find that colour has become more important, as detail has become less so. Sometimes the parts of the plants have no colour at all. I plan to continue this project to see how my memory will change again; as the consensus seems to be that it does come back.
My goal has been to tackle the subject of memory loss during menopause from an innovative perspective by actively exploring how it becomes distorted. Although discussions about memory loss have become more common, I hope my work will highlight this aspect of menopause, promote further research, and foster more support systems for women facing this challenging life phase, especially in the workplace.
Orchidaceae
About Anne Mason-Hoerter
Anne Mason-Hoerter is a Canadian artist residing in Munich, Germany, known for her innovative use of photography to investigate the evolution and transformation of memories over time. Her work delves into the impact of these memories on our emotional ties to nature and our past. Mason-Hoerter captures and interprets various subjects, including food, plants, and women’s health.
A graduate of the Ontario College of Art in Canada, her work has been recognized at the James Beard Foundation Awards in New York. Her artistic contributions have twice earned her the Award of Merit from the Canadian AIDS Society’s annual photography fundraising exhibition, highlighting her commitment to supporting significant causes through her art.
Mason-Hoerter’s photography has been featured in publications including Geo Wissen, Food For Your Eyes, Aesthetica, Food Inspiration Magazine, and 212 Magazine. Her images have also been displayed in exhibitions such as the International Food Awards at the Mall Galleries in London, Px3 in Paris, and the 212 Exhibition in Istanbul. She has participated in group exhibitions throughout Germany with the Professional Association of Freelance Photographers and Film Creators (BFF), of which she is a member.
A photographer turns the tables on fast fashion, styling surreal scenarios using second-hand finds.
by Qian Li ARPS
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“Some 92 million tonnes of textile waste are produced each year”
It was while searching for unique objects in local charity shops for my still life photography that I had the idea for what would become an entirely different project. What began as a treasure hunt soon revealed a more sobering reality: alongside vintage finds were endless racks of mass-produced goods — especially fashion items — selling for a fraction of their original price. At the same time, nearby shops continued to sell the same garments at double or triple the cost.
This glaring contrast shone a light on the scale of overproduction and waste in the fast fashion industry. In response, I decided to begin exploring environmental sustainability and consumer habits through a new visual language — one that aligned style, subject, and intent. Starting locally felt essential; it’s the most immediate and practical way to question our relationship with material culture. This is how Uncanny Fashion was born.
Some 92 million tonnes of textile waste are produced each year, according to Earth.Org. The apparel industry’s global emissions are projected to rise by 50% by 2030, and garments are now worn 36% less often than in the early years of the 21st century.
To address generational concerns about this form of consumption, the project reimagines fashion through second-hand garments and surreal styling. In an era marked by climate anxiety and overproduction, it challenges fast fashion’s brand-driven narratives and encourages a more conscious, creative relationship with material culture — one rooted in sustainability, individuality, and critical reflection.
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I began by sourcing clothing and other items from local charity and second-hand shops, creating test images before approaching outlets with a partnership proposal: they would lend garments and objects, and, in return, I would provide finished prints for in-store promotion. Where lending wasn’t possible, I purchased the items, used them for the shoot, and then re-donated them or gifted them to models and styling assistants. In this way, the items either found new owners or remained in circulation — reinforcing the project’s ethos of reuse and sustainable exchange.
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£5+£7=£12, Westbourne & Winton
£2+£4+£6+£4=£16, Westbourne & Winton
£5+£9=£14, Winton & Westbourne
£2.99+£1.25+£7+£7=£18.24, Poole, Winton & Westbourne
The ‘stars’ of the show
It was important that the garments and objects I sourced were not only in good condition and visually striking, but also unique. I was drawn to items unlikely to be purchased or that felt exotic to everyday life — like a bright red sombrero or an unusual lampshade. When brought together, these pieces interact, creating playful, unexpected scenes with visual humour and impact.
At the start of the project, I staged the secondhand items using mannequins, but the results felt like lifeless shop displays. Still life photography alone wasn’t enough to draw attention to sustainable clothing. I then turned to the aesthetics of fashion photography, which allowed more freedom in composition and brought life to preloved objects.
Styling began with colour pairing, followed by imagining scenarios in which garments and objects could interact. Models posed in unusual ways, often with faces covered, shifting focus to the items. Though people appear in the images, the objects remain the true subjects — anchoring the work in still life tradition.
Unlike typical fashion images that centre the model’s gaze, this approach invites viewers to engage with the textures and forms of the materials. To maintain clarity and detail, models held longer poses, ensuring the items — rather than individuals’ personalities — took centre stage.
None of the finished images have specific captions; instead, their titles function like shopping receipts. By listing item prices, total costs, and sourcing locations, they reveal the economic value and geographic reach of local sustainable shopping — while also pointing to the project’s exploration of the intersection between art and commerce.
Making Uncanny Fashion inspired me to reflect on our relationship with the material world and the culture we construct around it. The project also encouraged me to consider sustainability more intentionally in my production process. Whether my visual storytelling focuses on the human or non-human world, there is always a compelling connection to explore — and this dialogue sits at the heart of my broader practice as a still life photographer.
Winton & Westbourne & Swanage
About Qian Li ARPS
Qian Li is a London-based still life and fashion photographer whose work explores the interplay between the familiar and the uncanny. A recent MA Photography graduate from Arts University Bournemouth and an Associate of the Royal Photographic Society (ARPS), she draws on a background in advertising to create meticulously composed images that invite viewers to reconsider the everyday objects that surround them.
Her photographs are characterised by a minimalist aesthetic, often incorporating recycled and repurposed materials to highlight the potential for new life and meaning in pre-loved objects.
Qian Li’s work is influenced by the visual language of classical painting and contemporary fashion photography. Through quiet disruption and refined detail, she encourages viewers to question the reality presented to them and consider the deeper narratives embedded in the material world.
Born out of a frustration with a lack of visual representation, a project on fat and plus-sized outdoor swimmers becomes not only about body size but also about the joy of being in open water, and in community with others.
Do an image search for “wild swimmers”, and you’ll find your browser filled with photos of thin, young women leaping into water in beautiful nature spots. But behind these images — just as behind the unattainable beauty standards we are surrounded by in much of advertising and celebrity culture — is a pervasive and insidious message: if you don’t look like us, you don’t belong here.
▪
My series Bodies of Water got started in 2022 when I decided to get back to wild swimming and realised how hard it was to find well-fitting sports
swimwear, particularly a wetsuit, if you were bigger than a UK size 16. Having tried — in vain! — to buy a wetsuit on the high street and through popular online retailers, I sent my measurements to an adventure rental company. They finally found me a well-fitting wetsuit — in a men’s size. One of the company’s founders shared with me that they often request bigger sizes from brands, but are met with a definitive and dismissive “fat people don’t swim.”
Oh my. Yes, still in the year 2022.
Nothing gets a bee in my bonnet like an outrageously misinformed statement, so I decided to prove these brands wrong.
“I didn’t grow up fat. I know what it's like to not be a fat person. And I know how the world treats me when I'm not a fat person, compared to how I am now, because I live in a fat body.”
continued overleaf
“Fat is a biological thing. You can't live without it. You have to have fat in your diet, you have to carry fat on you or you're going to die. Literally, your body can't function without fat.”
Between being introduced to people through friends, and sharing my idea and a call for participants in Facebook groups for outdoor swimmers (one local to me in Surrey, and one called Fat Wild Swimming UK), I found my first group of people. Everyone I photographed identified as fat or plussized, without any judgement on my part.
I didn’t know much about the wild swimming culture in the UK at the time, and decided I would follow the lead of those I photographed. They would take me to their favourite locations, wear what they normally would for a swim — safety floats, swim shoes and all — and we’d spend time photographing in and out of the water. I would follow up with an interview over Zoom, asking
them about their relationship with swimming, their bodies, and what they thought of the word “fat”.
The conversations were illuminating and eyeopening. Most people talked about how seeing other people with bodies of all different sizes and shapes helped them be more accepting of their own, and overcome the conditioning that something was wrong with them. Some shared how it took them a long time to gather the courage to join a local swimming group — because they felt they were “too big” to swim. Another told me she felt the difference in how she is treated now that she lives in a bigger body compared with in the past when she wasn’t fat. Some turned out to be competitive or endurance swimmers and swimming instructors.
Others turned to the water for their mental health. Many — especially the non-binary participants — said it was often a struggle to find swimwear that is not only well-fitting for physical activity, but also not overly feminine while being designed for bodies with wider hips, bigger stomachs and breasts. The insights from these conversations are what make this project stand out. They show a lot of vulnerability and shared sentiments around fatness and being in the water, at one with nature. The way I chose to present people’s words alongside the images reflects that universality. The words and feelings are not attached to any particular person. They float around the images like bubbles, and any of the people I photographed could have said these things.
continued overleaf
“I love the word ‘fat’. For me, it's quite important to reclaim it as a sort of neutral descriptive word. You know, some bodies are fatter, or have more fat on them, than others. And that is just part of natural human diversity.”
I had initially intended to call the project “Fat Swimmers” to shock people and make them face their preconceptions about the word “fat” and the associations it invokes for them. But I felt it would only be right to run that idea past my participants — it was important to me that they were represented in a way that they were comfortable with. While many of them embraced the word, some still felt the stigma attached to it and said that they would be hesitant to use it to describe themselves. I struggled to come up with a new title for a while, but one day the words “Bodies of Water” popped into my head, and it was just perfect. By that point, the project had become not only about body size but also about the joy of being in the open water, being in a community with others, the mental and physical health benefits of it all, as well as the
connection we have with nature — an important theme in my wider creative practice.
For my exhibition of this project during the Photo Fringe festival in Brighton in 2024, I presented the photographs in large black frames, while the participants’ words were displayed in small white 6x4 and 5x7 frames — dotted around, so you couldn’t tell who had said what. Being able to present this project at Sea Lanes, the outdoor swimming centre, was the perfect match: the work was installed in their busy cafe and stayed up for two months, beyond the run of the festival. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people have seen the photographs and read what the participants had to say. I hope that, for many, it felt reassuring to see bigger bodies celebrated in this way, while others might have started to question their internalised fatphobia as a result.
“When I'm in the sea, it feels like I'm dancing, like I'm listening physically to the waves and how they push me around.”
“I like the fact that I will never be fatter than the sea. Even if I am too fat for everything else. I'm just never going to size out of it.”
To date, I have photographed 25 swimmers across Surrey, Somerset, Wales, Cornwall and Northamptonshire. I’ve connected with and photographed wonderful people who do a lot of important work in this area, including Steph Wetherell, the director of Every Body Outdoors, and Ella Foote, the editor of Outdoor Swimmer Magazine. My wish is that this project contributes to the important conversations around the representation of people living in bigger bodies. Because if you see it in the media, you see it in magazines, you see it on Google Images, then you
will start accepting it as a normal part of a wide spectrum of human bodies.
This project is continuing, and I would love to photograph more people for it. In a perfect world, I would love nothing more than to spend all summer travelling to swimming spots across the UK, but between solo-parenting, paid work and the rest of life, it was — and still is — a frustratingly slow process, especially as it is entirely self-funded. Such is the reality of making work you’re passionate about, but I hope to add more swimmers to this project as and when time and resources allow.
About Antonina Mamzenko
Antonina Mamzenko is a photographer, artist and educator based in Surrey, UK. Her work documents human experience, exploring themes of identity and belonging; trauma and recovery; and human connection with nature. Antonina’s work has received numerous accolades, including a Julia Margaret Cameron Award for women photographers, and has twice been shortlisted for the Portrait of Britain award. Her images have also appeared in national and international publications, including the British Journal of Photography, The Sunday Times and Digital Photographer Magazine, and featured in group exhibitions at the Royal Academy, Heathrow Airport, Modern Art Oxford, and Florida Museum of Photographic Arts in the USA, among others.
www.mamzenko.com ▪ www.instagram.com/mamzenko
Please note, this article contains references to the neglect and death of a child, based on news reports.
Beyond the silent image
Inspired by news events and her own experience as a mother, a photographer collaborates with her daughter to illuminate aspects of the female experience that are often overlooked and at odds with idealised notions of motherhood.
These words are at the heart of my photographic project, You Are Everything to Me, a reflection on the role of motherhood and the mental and emotional burden of parenthood, which society sometimes underestimates.
It was July 2022, and I was in my home country, Italy, when I heard the story of a 37-year-old Italian mum who left her 16-month-old daughter to die of starvation. She abandoned her child in her cot after washing and changing her. She put a bottle of milk next to her daughter and left for six days to reconcile with her partner and try to build a future with him.
At the time, almost all the newspaper reports had the same headline: “Single mother left daughter to die for futile reasons.” This was the third case of its kind in Italy within just a couple of months. However, it was the one that was, and still is, the most talked about because it was, apparently, a conscious act. The discussions surrounding this tragedy were largely broadcast alongside interviews, talks, and debates moderated by the mother’s lawyers, who appeared on TV shows with the confidence of TV presenters.
I felt horrified and deeply affected by this tragedy, which was broadcast as a reality show, whilst this anonymous woman, who had very few friends and was mostly unknown in her neighbourhood on the outskirts of Milan, became the monster, the subject of a spectacle, and was seen as a witch who had committed an atrocious crime. Yet nobody heard her cries for help, not even her mother or sister. And nobody living in the block of flats where she lived heard the baby crying for her life for six days.
RIGHT Wishing Well
This story made me realise how something so natural and universal as motherhood can be so lonely. After hearing this story, I felt the urge to understand, research, and reflect on how the lived experience of maternity for some mothers could be so different from the poetic images of motherhood that we are brought up with — smiling, happy mothers with beautiful children, elegant women with loving husbands, or mums in control of an immaculate household while their children play quietly. The gap between these stereotypes and reality was particularly striking in a country like Italy, which is built on patriarchal ideals and views.
You Are Everything to Me has its origins in this tragic event. It considers the emotional burden of parenthood, the physical and psychological
isolation that may be experienced, and the dilemma between personal happiness and taking on responsibilities. I have deliberately tried to create a distance from the story that originally inspired this body of work. Finding myself torn between horror and sympathy, I took my medium-format film camera, which helped slow down the photographic process and allowed me to reflect consciously on each frame I wanted to capture. Through a process of self-contemplation, I’ve re-evoked my personal feelings and experiences of the time when my first daughter was just a few months old; the sense of loneliness, isolation, and the desperate need to find time for myself to exist as a person, and the time to regain my own identity.
I started by questioning the concept of motherhood as an expected role in the patriarchal vision and as an institution, rather than as a human relationship that is under the constant scrutiny of moral rules and conservative, oppressive ideology. To me, this ideology is primarily rooted in a mythical vision of what it means to be a mother and its prescriptive view of how you must feel and behave, according to the rules of social conduct. This is particularly vivid in Italy, but it seems to have become a common battleground. With my images, I have tried to dismantle this lyrical imagery and the stereotypes surrounding motherhood and shed light on the silent battles faced by countless mothers who live through something so universally treasured and revered — motherhood — with extreme loneliness and despair. I quietly observe all the mothers who are silently struggling to cope and who are, mostly, unseen by their families, communities and institutions.
In developing and researching this project, I’ve also made some deliberate choices. Firstly, I have collaborated with my daughter, who was born when I had just moved to London: I felt like a stranger in the city and I missed the support of my family, particularly my mother, my sister and friends. My daughter has performed for me in front of the camera, bringing back some of my memories of loneliness, isolation and self-loss as a mother. These are feelings I have always shared candidly with my children as part of the human experience, one that might require the courage to be patient or to ask for support.
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You Are Everything to Me I'll Marry You
My daughter is portrayed as a woman without identity. In this way, she represents the voices of many mothers in the world who are full of hopes and dreams, yet remain almost invisible at this time in their lives. The still life and landscape images can be seen as metaphorical portraits representing inner, psychological states and aim to open a dialogue with the audience and their interpretations. I have also used the colour red extensively as a recurring visual element that symbolises love, carnage and rage. Since I started exhibiting this project, I have provided viewers with the opportunity to give
written feedback or share their views and experiences anonymously in a box beside my work. The responses I have received have been incredibly encouraging. It is now pushing me to develop my project further through collaborations with mothers from diverse backgrounds who are willing to share their experiences and make their stories, although difficult, heard.
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About Angela Crosti
Angela Crosti is a photographic artist and printmaker currently based in London. Her work explores human relationships and themes such as motherhood, ageing, and the intricate intersections of identity and belonging. She has a profound commitment to social and environmental issues and is interested in uncovering unspoken stories and social injustices. Angela works predominantly with medium-format film cameras and natural light. Her portraits capture intimate moments with a focus on human connection and complicity. Through her landscapes, she evokes interior states, offering reflections and metaphorical insights into everyday life.
Her photographic series You Are Everything to Me won the Idee PhotoContest 2024 and was a finalist at Photo|Frome 2025. It was also shortlisted for the Royal Photographic Society IPE 165, Fresh Eyes Talents 2023, the 21st Julia Margaret Cameron Award with two honourable mentions in the Women Seen by Women and Documentary and Reportage categories, and was exhibited at Università degli Studi Statale di Milano. Angela’s work has been exhibited at PhMuseum Lab, PhotoBrussels Festival, ImageNation Paris, Galerie Joseph Le Palais, Artphilein Gallery Foundation and Liquida Photofestival 2024 in Turin.
ADHD combined with the onset of menopause was highly destabilizing for this photographer, but here she describes how she finds peace while wandering in nature with her camera.
by Allyson Klein
A carpet of wild garlic covers the forest floor in early spring.
Sometimes my mind is just messy. Messy words, ideas, phrases and thoughts zip across my consciousness, flying in every direction. I hear them, distantly, but they seldom last. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to reach out a metaphorical hand and have one of these criss-crossing packets of language brush up against me, so close I can almost hear what they’re saying. If I don’t grab hold, that snippet is gone, though it might be back in a few minutes. Or a few days, weeks, months or maybe never. Other times, I snatch it and do or say whatever thought I’m holding onto so tightly. Call the doctor. Email Deirdre. Finish that application. Write a letter. Walk the dog. I forget the mundane. I misplace the essential. Negative thoughts, suffocating and hurtful — these are the ones that take up residence while bits of more important content are forever swirling around in my head. That is, until I pick up my camera.
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In 2017, several years before being diagnosed with ADHD, I found photography. I was a middleaged expat solo-parenting two babies (now teenagers). I had abandoned my graphic design career and had no idea what I was getting myself into. My body was changing in ways I couldn’t understand. At 42, I had my second child. At 45, I stopped nursing her and experienced what I came to learn was complete hormonal collapse. My racing heart, shocking insomnia, anxiety, panic attacks, and night sweats (camouflaged by medication side effects) turned into brain fog, terrible eyesight, zero libido, and other maladies that I struggled to make sense of. I watched as silver strands cascaded into yesterday’s leftovers; my skin was dry and itchy, depleted of its once youthful glow. It wasn’t pretty. I felt destabilized by these symptoms I didn’t know were related to perimenopause or divergent neural pathways. No one talked about it. Even 10 years ago, it was still lurking in the shadows, like me. Almost everything, as it turns out, was related to the absence of estrogen and the presence of ADHD, whose symptoms worsen when hormones fluctuate. The only way I managed to escape from the mounting mental and bodily upheaval was to lose myself in the focus of a camera. But the camera is also the place I began to find myself. Whether a phone, DSLR or film, photography felt almost like the only salve, the only thing that
brought me peace. It became a beacon of hope and possibility. I could wander around and be completely present in the moment. Picture-making released me from the constant chatter in my head. It released me from the panic attacks just like cold water swimming does — an audible “ahhhhh” when the salty water hits my neck or when I look through the viewfinder.
Roosting crows coming home for the evening.
A fortuitous meeting
I am a late bloomer. A slow processor. A thinker. A cloud watcher. Above all, I am a wanderer. Wandering means freedom — freedom to observe, freedom to connect, freedom to dream. Somehow, space and freedom are created in my chaotic mind when I wander, get lost in nature, and follow my curiosity. I focus my attention with and without the camera, composing images in my head while a sliver of light or color or shape catches my eye. My field of vision changes quickly, darting from tree to fence to sky to ground, not stopping until I get that tingle. Like a lepidopterist, net in hand, I find my butterfly. I pause to investigate.
My cats lie in the corner of my small backyard, matting down a cozy space in the shade. They sleep unfettered in the makeshift meadow facing the Irish Sea as the glowing tips of wheat-colored grass sway in the temperate coastal winds. Wildflowers
appear and disappear all spring and summer, and I decide not to mow the verdant patch in May or June, to allow growing dandelions in all their incarnations. I relish watching clover, buttercups, brambles, stork’s bill, fireweed, and daisies awaken from winter slumber and climb towards the sun. I let nature be. She is my teacher, and I let myself explore and be free, liberated from lawn-mowing conformity.
You never know who or what you will encounter while wandering. After a particularly lousy “I-madeanother-mistake” day, I decide to pick myself up and venture out, an old 35mm in hand, loaded with Portra 400. It is a warm evening, the sun still hours from setting. In Northern Ireland, the summer sky stays light til nearly morning. Set to manual mode, I bring my Nikon therapist with me for a dander — a slow, rambling walk — and happen upon a swimmer
On daily walks with Jasper, the black lab, my two cats sometimes join in.
leaving the sea, bathed in the most glorious light. The pull to photograph this woman is singular and a pull I cannot ignore.
Nervous and uncertain, I ask if I can take her photograph. Not only does she say yes, but she asks if I can take one of her in the water because this is a very special and somber swim: one of the last with both of her legs. The next week, she will be getting her left one amputated. Both of us are struck by this fortuitous meeting. I put aside my self-doubt and fear, as now these photos are not for me but for her, to record this beautiful, poetic moment, when a world champion ice swimmer exits the water one last time with her whole body and heart, ready to be healed by the removal of a limb. And the moment when I, a woman ready for her own healing, find connection and camaraderie with a stranger because of my camera, feeling ready to be healed from years of negative self-talk and a jumbled mind. The two of us enmeshed and mended by a click of the shutter.
“Somehow, space and freedom are created in my chaotic mind when I wander, get lost in nature, and follow my curiosity.”
Nicola Doran, world champion ice swimmer, one week before her surgery. Crawfordsburn Beach, Northern Ireland.
Breathing in freedom
As I go about my day, I try to find moments, even briefly, when I am fully present in my body and mind; when I am free from the ceaseless ticker-tape of thought. It’s as if this little box, my trusty camera, can heal me in a way nothing else could. When I’m “spun” and I cannot control the racing and rumination in my mind, I go out for a walk in nature. Of course, it’s lovely, but I’m more settled with a camera in hand; it feels like a passport into a new existence. I’m in awe and filled with wonder and open to the beautiful details around me, present in a way I find impossible without the lens.
I walk through the forest and breathe in the earthy loam. Fiddleheads unfurling in early morning light. Birds say hello to each other and then swoop
in for a feast of earthworms and leftover BBQ. My cats trot beside me, then they too unfurl, bathing in the first glimpse of summer grass.
Other days, I lose myself in birdsong while the dizzying aroma of rosa rugosa (beach rose) buzzes inside my brain, inside every cell of my body. For a brief moment, the inner dialog is gone, and everything feels alive. That smell — if I could only dive into it, if I could only become that wafting summertime scent — it could make me forget the heartache and grief of a later-in-life awareness of who I am and the effects of years of misdiagnosis. I can’t count the number of times I felt like screaming when another doctor prescribed yet another antidepressant, never looking beyond their charts to really see me, to see my struggle.
My backyard, grass unmowed, trees untrimmed, bramble bushes reaching for the light.
Evening light breaking through a small grove of alders along the north coast of Ireland.
RIGHT
A reflection of life on an organic vegetable farm.
Liberation reveals itself in a single cloud floating by on a bright, blue-sky day. Standing at the tidal shoreline, a wide and sandy beach with ridges and runnels and soft summer foliage, I watch as a solitary ball of vapor, a cumulus cottonball, spreads and drifts. I imagine myself in conversation with that lone flyer, asking for directions, maybe what plans they have
for the day. If I look away, even for a moment, and then turn back, they’re gone, and suddenly I’m awake and facing reality. Yet, I have in my possession the ability to freeze time and merge these two worlds: the concrete and the dream; the photograph and the memory. Looking through the viewfinder, I realize that I can heal myself, one frame at a time.
An after-school stroll through the country park near our house when my girls were still so young.
About Allyson Klein
Allyson Klein is a Northern Ireland-based photographer whose work captures the quiet beauty of everyday life, from the natural world to fleeting human interactions. Originally from Los Angeles, California, Klein transitioned from graphic design to photography at the age of 47 and has since developed a practice rooted in curiosity, storytelling, and an eye for moments others might overlook. Her images have been exhibited in Arles, Athens, Dublin and Belfast, to name a few, and her project A Peculiar Diaspora was shortlisted for the 2025 Belfast Photo Festival. Klein helped curate an exhibition at The Curve Gallery in Bangor, Northern Ireland, which blended her photography with the work of a local multimedia artist. Whether on film, digital, or smartphone, her photos reflect an artful and often quirky sensibility, guided by a belief in seeing beauty everywhere.
Purple rhododendron petals sprinkled on the ground below.
On truth and beauty
Photographer Debbie Todd is passionate about helping underrepresented people to tell their stories. Here, she discusses the importance of ethics and collaboration, where her ideas come from, and what’s next.
Interview by Frankie MacEachen
PREVIOUS PAGE Young man with horses, from the series All the Fun of the Fair: Young Travellers Project LEFT Abby & her pet rats
Tell us about yourself and how you got started in photography.
Growing up in the Northeast of England, I lived (and still do) in a former pit village and was raised in a working-class family on a council estate. I loved spending time at my Nanna’s house 13 doors down. She had loads of old family photos, and almost every Sunday I would ask to look at them. I loved the nostalgia, and she would recount all the people in the images and memories of their lives. If I had a school trip, she would let me use her camera. I still remember the pressure of having to find a dark area to load a new film, hoping it would work and wouldn’t get jammed, or the film wouldn’t catch. It was exciting waiting for the prints to arrive — often with heads cut off or blurry — but I was fascinated with capturing moments on film.
I couldn’t afford my own camera growing up, so I used disposables. I was that girl in the 90s, on a night out photographing my friends when no one
else was doing it. In 2009, after years of dreaming of being a photographer, I did a photography GCSE, bought my first camera, delved into photography headfirst and opened a studio for a couple of years, but it didn’t work out. I burned myself out and realised it wasn’t for me at that time.
Growing up in a working-class community, I was always told, “You cannot be an artist.” No one in my immediate family had been to university but, aged 37, I enrolled in the Northern School of Art and discovered I loved storytelling — in particular stories of those who were underrepresented. I started engaging with people and took it from there. I’m not a natural academic, but I achieved a Bachelor of Arts in Photographic Practice in 2022 and a Master’s with Distinction in Arts Practice in 2023. I was so passionate about my work and absolutely loved being a student. I wish I could study forever as I learned so much from the experience and from my tutors’ encouragement. It totally changed my way of thinking and opened my mind to think more critically.
Who were your earliest influences and how have they shaped your work?
I was captivated by female photographers such as Diane Arbus and Sally Mann. I love Sally’s beautiful portraits of her kids in the garden. So innocent and honest, but I can’t imagine photos being taken like that nowadays. I enjoy seeing the beauty in a photograph, not the politics. With Diane Arbus, maybe something within her inspired her to connect with people she related to. Perhaps she felt like an outcast. I also love Joel-Peter Witkin’s work with his sense of the macabre showing the beauty of death and mortality in his images.
Photography for me, however, is seeing something beautiful and the story behind it. I'm more drawn to individual pieces as opposed to artists and am always intrigued by the meaning behind the image and the story it has to tell.
continued overleaf
Alex, from the series When I’m Not at Hyem
You advocate for equality and are dedicated to promoting “diversity and inclusion through collaboration with people”. How does that show up in your work?
Everything I do in my work is a collaboration to give people a voice. When I have an idea, it is about working with someone and ensuring it's fair and accurate. It’s important they don’t feel I've taken something and not given back. The people I work with tend to have a message they want to get across, and I'm a piece of the puzzle trying to help them achieve that. I feel very passionate about telling the beautiful, important stories they have shared with me and representing them through my images. I like to connect with someone over a period of months, where possible, and do a few shoots where you focus on the collaboration. I'm very big on ethics and making sure I'm representing and informing people to understand and not judge others quickly. I want to allow marginalised people to see themselves and be seen positively in the way they live their lives, to show the joy on their faces when being photographed.
I achieve the best work through working together with someone while creating a comfortable work environment. Throughout the process, I always ask myself questions: Why am I doing this project? Is it for me? Am I taking this photo because I think this is a great photo, but it's not representing someone in their true life? There are big debates about photographing vulnerable people in their environment and being mindful of that image being publicly available. I have a policy where if anyone changes their mind or feels misrepresented, they can talk to me about it, and the work will disappear from the public domain. It’s important to consider ethics, consent and being appropriate. By working collaboratively with people, you're representing them fairly and telling their stories accurately with their consent.
You have worked on several campaigns and commissions focusing on topics supporting marginalised people, such as Glabrous: A Hair Loss Campaign, Extra Ordinary: A Child Down Syndrome Project and All the Fun of the Fair: Young Travellers Project. Can you talk us through how you choose a project and your process?
I'm interested in advocating for others and helping people heal, those who are suffering or needing to get a message out. When I hear about someone’s story, my brain is thinking, “How would that look in a photograph? How could I tell that story?” And that's what's tricky. You're telling someone's life story in one image, which is how I work.
With my project The Call: A Child Organ Donation Campaign, I saw a post on social media about a gender reveal for a baby. A heart had been drawn in the sky with a comment saying, “Imagine if this heart was for all the children who were waiting for a heart transplant.” It set me thinking, and the idea developed into photographing a little girl attached to a machine that was pumping instead of a heart. The question I asked myself was: how can I make this impactful?
I was in a children’s hospital for a day and gave a little red telephone just like the emergency phone to child patients to symbolise the call a patient receives for a transplant, which resulted in the campaign. For me, a project usually comes from ideas that pop into my head and the people I meet who inspire me. Sometimes the subject will choose you.
Zachary, from the series The Call
Grace, from the series The Call
You recently attended the Appleby Horse Fair, the annual gathering of gypsies and travellers in Cumbria. Can you tell us about the work you do there?
I've attended Appleby for the past three years, trying to build trust within the community. The first time, I took a backdrop to make it resemble a studio photo — I wanted to take the people out of Appleby to give them their own space. I'm interested in the younger travellers and their identity, how it feels to be a traveller and deal with people's opinions and preconceptions.
That was difficult to facilitate as it’s a busy event so I went back the next year and camped. I walked around the campsite photographing people, and some of those travellers invited me to their caravans to photograph their children.
This year it rained the whole time. I visited people I had previously met in their caravans and
forged more of a connection. The ad hoc images I got turned out to be the best ones. When people are open and trusting like that, it’s magical. You just walk in, the image appears, and you capture it. It’s the opposite of my regular practice, which is very focused on a subject and then a visual idea.
About 10,000 travellers go to Appleby each year, along with 40,000 non-travellers, which shows how welcome the travelling community make people feel. A lot of people don't see that. It’s important not to be afraid of things we don't understand, take yourself out of your comfort zone and be open-minded.
Young man at Appleby Fair, from the series All the Fun of the Fair: Young Travellers Project
Baby Sapphire May, from the series All the Fun of the Fair: Young Travellers Project
The girl in the camper van window, from the series All the Fun of the Fair: Young Travellers Project
As a professional photographer running your own business, what are the challenges you face?
I feel that due to the rise in social media and camera phones, photography is less valued. I would love to bring back the importance of commissioning a beautiful portrait to place on your wall. To show the importance of a crisp, clear image that will be valued and loved years down the line is more important than a disposable image easily thrown away or lost on the internet.
Photography is worth fighting for. It’s worth bringing the medium back to when people wanted a quality print, something tangible that’s worth more than a picture on social media for clicks and likes.
What advice would you give to new photographers looking to make photography their career?
Be true to yourself. Don't do what you think will make money or what you think people want you to do. If someone asks you to do a job and you're unsure, don't feel pressurised or feel you have to conform to certain standards. Your best work is created when it comes from you.
I believe the whole point of photography is to enjoy it — there's no point otherwise. I found my path as I was passionate telling people’s stories. If you're not inspired or passionate and you're not buzzing about your images, if you're not saying, “Oh my God, everybody look at this!,” you're not in the right job.
RIGHT Robyn, from the series Glabrous
Brody, from the series Extra Ordinary: A Child Down Syndrome Project
Hannah, from the series Glabrous
Tilly - keep your hands to yourself, from the series The Meaning of Being Different
What projects are you working on?
I'm continuing my Glabrous project. I photographed several women without hair and one girl wearing different objects on her head like pasta and an octopus to represent her lost hair, the important thing being to make it look realistic from a distance and then surprise people.
An upcoming project is The Meaning of Being Different , which will be part of my first solo exhibition in March 2026 in Bishop Auckland. I have a full gallery space, which I'm converting to a room
within a room. It will have fine art, painterly style images with written commentary like “Keep your hair on,” for someone who doesn't have hair, and “Only a mother could love” for a boy born without cheekbones. This title may sound harsh, but his birth mother walked out of hospital when he was born, and when he was five, his mum adopted him because she loved his face.
I have some commissions, but mainly I’m continuing working with and representing marginalised people, and creating stories of people with lived experience. That’s the joy in everything I do.
About Debbie Todd
I'm a photographer with an interest in capturing everyday moments with the aim of making the sitter into a fine art portrait. I have a studio at Ushaw Historic House near Durham, which is the perfect backdrop. Through my lens, I explore the unseen beauty in difference, vulnerability, and human complexity. My work is deeply rooted in storytelling, and I’m drawn to people and moments that exist outside conventional ideas of perfection, capturing them with honesty and care. Whether photographing individuals with visible differences, or crafting conceptual portraits that provoke questions, debate and conversations, I aim to create images that challenge stereotypes and invite empathy and understanding, to shape a more inclusive society.
A music photographer puts fangirls centre stage to celebrate the communities of women and girls who bond in queues and create bespoke outfits for their pop idols’ concerts.
LEFT
Fans Ebony and Aminat ahead of Melanie Martinez concert in London
I first began documenting music fans in 2022. I’ve worked as a photographer in the music industry for over a decade and spent years photographing concerts and festivals across the UK. During this time, I’ve met thousands of fans: the people who show up early, queue for hours, and bring an unmatched energy to the entire experience. I wanted to do something that captured the essence of fandom from the fan’s point of view.
Fan Culture is an ongoing, self-funded passion project born from over 20 years of attending concerts and a lifetime of being a music fan. Inspired by the many individuals I’ve encountered throughout my career as a photographer, this series celebrates and documents the experiences of women attending pop concerts in the UK.
So far, I’ve had the privilege of photographing major cultural moments such as Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour, and sold-out shows by Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Melanie Martinez and Madison Beer. Each concert has its own unique atmosphere and excitement, but the real magic happens outside the venue in the friendships formed in the queues, the outfits people wear, and the anticipation that builds ahead of the concert.
RIGHT
Fans Caoimhe and
looking for Taylor Swift tickets at Wembley Stadium
When I started, I photographed dedicated fanbases across various music genres, including Noah Kahan, RAYE and The 1975. These fans line up for hours, sometimes even days, to secure frontrow spots before the doors open. They buy every piece of merchandise and connect with fellow fans to form communities. Over time, I noticed a
particular type of fan kept standing out: the ones who go above and beyond with their outfits. Outfit planning has become a ritual for some fans; it can take weeks or sometimes months to create the perfect look for a concert. It’s often DIY, thrifted, or hand-made, and, almost always, it is deeply personal and inspired by the artist’s aesthetic or lyrics. It’s an
Fan Jessica ahead of a Melanie Martinez concert in London
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Detail: Bag charms for Melanie Martinez concert
Detail: Cowboy boots for Taylor Swift concert worn by Kaitlyn and Jaime-Leigh
extension of what fandom means today and often it’s women and girls who show up in this way. Though not exclusively women centred, this is the demographic Fan Culture has naturally leaned into.
In many cases, these fans are working-class young women who make significant sacrifices to attend a show, budgeting for rising ticket prices,
accommodation and travel, and taking time off work. With the cost-of-living crisis, attending concerts has become more of a privilege than ever. So, if fans can’t afford to attend every show, they make the ones they do go to count. Energy and love are expressed through creating well-curated outfits and togetherness.
“Energy and love are expressed through creating well-curated outfits and togetherness.”
But Fan Culture is about more than just clothes and queues. It documents the safe spaces that pop music fans create, the communities they build and the joy they find in sharing these experiences. It delves into what it means to be a “fangirl”, a term which is too often dismissed or ridiculed, and reclaims it as something powerful, expressive and culturally significant.
By focusing on the lived experiences of fans, especially women, Fan Culture brings attention to the cultural importance of live music and the socio-economic barriers that threaten to make it inaccessible. Through these images, I aim to tell a
visual story about the social realities and creativity that define fandom today, a perspective that’s still largely underrepresented in music photography. I started Fan Culture to challenge myself. I walk up to strangers and somehow within minutes we’ve connected, usually through a shared love of an artist or a conversation about how expensive tickets have become. I’ve had people call me brave for doing this, but in all honesty, my confidence has grown, and my portrait photography has improved. About 90% of people agree to being photographed, and if I leave each show with a couple of strong images, I’m happy: every photo adds to the story.
Detail: Cowboy hats for Sabrina Carpenter concert
Fans Mia and Ruby ahead of Melanie Martinez concert in London
As a freelancer, I think it’s very important to work on personal projects. Fan Culture is a longterm body of work that I’ll continue to develop, but I have to fit it around commissioned work. Even though I’ve been working on this for a couple of years now, Fan Culture is still in its early days. New artists are emerging all the time, and I’ve got my eye on other fandoms. There’s a wealth of stories waiting to be told and history to be made.
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It really is the era of the “pop girly” and I’m excited to continue documenting it. I’m convinced it has the potential to become something much bigger and, in the future, I’d love to turn it into an exhibition or a zine. For now, I’ll keep chasing the music, meeting the fans, and telling their stories one concert at a time.
Fan Bella ahead of Olivia Rodrigo concert in Manchester
Detail: Handmade outfit for Sabrina Carpenter concert worn by Amy
About Abbie Jennings
Abbie Jennings (she/her) is an arts and culture photographer based in Hull. Her personal and commissioned practice explores themes focused on people, places and personal nostalgia, especially subcultures and identity.
She has a first class BA in Photography (2017) and an MA in Art Gallery and Museum Studies (2020). In 2023, Abbie was awarded a DYCP grant from Arts Council England to develop her practice as a photography curator. As a creative producer, she has worked on several notable Heritage Lottery and Arts Councilfunded projects.
Reframing conflict and violence: The women shaping peace with their cameras
Photography is often used to document the horrors of war, but a new project explores how people in former conflict zones are putting it to work to promote peace and justice.
by Tiffany Fairey and Ingrid Guyon
Images and captions courtesy and copyright of individual contributors.
“Land tenure, use, and distribution are among the main reasons for the beginning and perpetuation of the armed conflict in Colombia. The land problem in Colombia is a complex issue that requires comprehensive and sustainable solutions. It is necessary to work towards building a more equitable and just society, where the rights of local communities are respected and land redistribution is promoted. It is also important at a global level that we all become aware and take action to reduce pollution, conserve natural resources and combat climate change to ensure a sustainable future for ourselves and future generations.
“This picture was taken by a collective of ex-combatant photographers who are documenting Colombia after the 2016 Peace Accord. It was published on the day of commemoration of the National Day of Memory and Solidarity with Victims in Colombia.”
Mery and her sister Yulieth are respected leaders in their community of San Miguel, located in the conflict-affected area of Cauca in southwestern Colombia. When they were asked to photograph signs of everyday peace in their village, they both chose to make pictures related to the illegal cultivation of coca, the plant that provides the raw ingredient of cocaine. Despite the historic 2016 peace agreement that brought an end to more than 50 years of violent internal conflict in the country, armed drug traffickers continue to operate, drawing youth and others into their criminal activities.
For Mery and Yulieth, peace means resisting the lure of illegal money and making an active choice to pursue another option despite their poverty. As farmers, it means choosing to grow and harvest alternative crops: cassava, mangos, bananas or lemons. And when they put themselves in their own photographs and call the shots from in front of the
camera, these women make themselves visible as agents of peace. They use their photography to demonstrate to others the peaceful alternatives that exist in communities where violence (and nonviolent resistance) has been pervasive for decades. Writing their photo captions in the rhyming couplets of their traditional music, the sisters assert an unwavering call for peace.
The two sisters’ images stand out: Whilst there is an abundance of photographs of war and conflict, there is a collective visual failure when it comes to peace. Search online for images of peace and the algorithms throw up graphics of doves, CND symbols, and fingers aloft in a “V” shape. Sometimes, there is a photo of a sunset, often with a person sitting cross-legged beneath a tree, presumably meditating. We have countless specific, compelling and iconic photographs of war, but beyond these abstract symbols, where are all the photographs of peace?
“The people of San Miguel are calm and serene; we flee from conflicts and war. All year round, we grow our produce so that we can provide for our children. San Miguel of my soul, dear San Miguel, despite poverty, we continue to grow our crops. Cassava, banana and lemon are some crops of our region that we harvest with love. Let us no longer talk about war, and let us enjoy again, to see our children grow and to cultivate our land. My God, my God, we no longer want war in San Miguel, we just want your presence and your power to remain.”
Images play a defining role in shaping politics. They can work to entrench division and invoke violence and hate, or they can be used to transform conflict and foster cultures of peace and peaceful co-existence. We are at a point in history where wars, authoritarianism and polarisation are on the rise. According to the 2025 Global Peace Index, global peacefulness has deteriorated every year since 2014, while the conditions that precede conflict and the number of active state-based conflicts are at their worst since the Second World War. Politicians evoke the concept of peace to advance agendas that often work to undermine the very conditions required for durable peace. Peace is both political and contested. Given this climate, we wanted to explore how photography can be used not only to document the horrors of conflict and
violence as an anti-war tool, but also to promote positive peace, justice, and dialogue.
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After years of writing about photojournalism and war photography, the educator, curator, and author Fred Ritchin posed a compelling question: “What might a photography of peace consist of?” Imaging Peace, a four-year Leverhulme-funded research project, led by Dr Tiffany Fairey in the Department of War Studies at King’s College London, has sought to find some answers. Looking beyond professional image producers, the research has focused on localised and community photography initiatives in countries where people have direct experience of conflict, war and mass violence to see how they are
Peace Photography: A Guide, by Tiffany Fairey and Ingrid Guyon. Front cover image by Fotohane Darkroom and Katy Vetch.
using photography to heal and rebuild relations after war and to resist ongoing violence. Investigating more than 30 examples of peace photography from 21 countries where people are using photography in this way, the project has recently produced a free downloadable resource, Peace Photography: A Guide, co-authored by Fairey and Ingrid Guyon, a photographer and participatory practitioner who has worked extensively with peace photography. The guide explores the concept, methods and ethics of peace photography, and its accompanying website features a diverse range of case studies.
It is clear that this emerging genre of photography goes beyond merely depicting peace — it uses the very process — the creation and sharing of images — to be generative peace itself. Peace photography projects in places where war and violence have left
communities broken, divided and traumatised bring people together and build community by carving spaces for dialogue and reflection.
The photographers who have contributed to the Imaging Peace research range from peace activists, survivors of conflict-related sexual violence, community leaders, young people, people living as refugees, former combatants, and citizens. The projects involve all genders and ages, but in many initiatives, women are at the centre of these visual peacebuilding efforts. This is unsurprising given the transformative role that women play in peacebuilding more broadly. UN studies show that peace agreements are 35% more likely to last when women are involved, and their involvement improves the durability, inclusiveness, and effectiveness of peace efforts from the grassroots up.
Among the female contributors to Imaging Peace is a group of Indigenous women who came together in the 1990s to help survivors rebuild their lives in the aftermath of the Guatemalan civil war Government forces committed genocide against the Mayan Ixil people as well as wide-ranging atrocities, including massacres, sexual violence and disappearances, which left many women as the sole providers for their families. Over a number of years, 20 women engaged in photographing and storytelling to develop a community narrative and to analyse and find solutions to the problems they faced. More recently, a group of women in the Central African Republic who survived brutal
attacks and conflict-related sexual violence at the hands of armed groups in 2003, engaged in a project in which they documented how they had rebuilt their lives. In both Guatemala and the CAR, these women used photography not only to process and recover from their violent histories but to look forward to drive and imagine a different kind of future.
This intentional approach is one of the characteristics of peace photography, where contributors use the medium not only to acknowledge their painful pasts but also to move beyond them and transform the conflict and violence that have shaped their own lives or
“These medicines are part of my daily life. Sometimes people are afraid to go to the hospital. I want to raise awareness that they should go. It was my mother who brought me to the hospital for testing. The result was positive (HIV). The medications give me strength.”
“It is a twofold image. At first glance, it is children having a fun and careless day at an amusement park. Or simply two rides moving in two different directions. For me, it symbolizes the before and after of war. Before: I was a child, naively enjoying life. After: I am a jaded adult who lives, unable to focus, in a world that often moves in directions that daze me.”
those of their communities. In the USA, veterans in the Odyssey project have used a therapeutic photography process to support their return to civilian life and process their wartime experience. Many of the participating women used their photography to reconnect with their families and the world around them. One of the women, Marlene L. Roll, said: “Peace photography to me means capturing the best of life and our world to remind ourselves of what is at stake when war tramples through our lives.”
For the Imaging Peace contributors, their primary audiences are often themselves and their own families and communities. In Colombia, the photography workshops that Mery and Yulieth were part of culminated in outdoor exhibitions where images were hung on buildings and walls all over the village. Evaluative research established that the project supported healing and intergenerational
dialogue around sensitive and difficult histories, fostered community identity and pride and fed directly into community peace actions. Photo projects on specific issues resulted in the revival of community schemes and spaces. In one village, an older woman resident commented that the exhibition of peace images “made such an impact on me, seeing all the people looking at the photos, they remember what has happened to them… but they do it with a tranquillity and confidence that the future is going to be better. This [project] confirms the magic of this village; we needed that.” Peace photography also reaches wider and diverse national and international audiences. These Colombian images have been used to inform peacebuilding projects and policy and have been featured in international media articles, carrying the often overlooked perspectives of those directly affected by conflict to the wider world.
Cameras, not guns
Supporting community-based female peace photographers is not without challenges. Rwandan photographer Jacques Nkinzingabo mentors young people to produce visual projects and hold exhibitions in their homes in a project called The Home Stay Exhibitions. The initiative seeks to break down the invisible walls that have grown up around people’s homes since the 1994 genocide against the
Tutsi and uses photography to bring people together to discuss community issues. Aline, one of the young women he supported, produced a photo story on her father, a potato farmer. Nkinzingabo found it was much harder for the young women to sustain their photography and participate, compared to their male counterparts. They could not move as freely and had more household duties than the boys.
“In Sharon Briyith Moreno’s imagination, there is a universe of colours, stories, characters, and lives that she shares with her more than 20 alter-egos and her best friend and sister, Jennifer.”
Female photographers figure prominently in Colectivo Miradas, a collective of former combatants who have, in their own words, “exchanged their weapons for cameras”. Putting down their guns as part of the peace agreement between the Colombian Government and FARC guerrillas, they have taken up cameras and use photography as a tool for reincorporation, reparation and reconciliation. Photographers such as Yira Vélez seek to show the problems facing their communities and celebrate their achievements, publishing them on their Instagram accounts and holding exhibitions around the country and overseas.
An image by two of the collective’s photogra-
phers, a portrait of a young woman called Sharon, evokes the power of imagination. Peace scholars assert that for peace to be created, it must first be imagined. Like peace itself, peace photography is a multi-dimensional and complex concept, and it looks different depending on the photographer’s own experience of conflict, violence and war. But the idea of peace photography and the search for images of peace requires us all to take an imaginative leap: to push how we use photography to bridge division and resist ongoing violence. Imaging Peace is a provocation to imagine peace; the hope is that by building our visual peace imaginaries, we create better conditions for peace itself.
Imaging Peace, a large-scale street exhibition, is on display on The Strand, central London. www.kcl.ac.uk/news/imaging-peace-unveiled-on-londons-strand
Find out more about the academic research underpinning Imaging Peace, and the forthcoming book: www.imagingpeace.org/index.php/book/
About the Authors
Tiffany Fairey is a Senior Research Fellow based in the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. She is a specialist in participatory visual methods and photovoice with over 20 years’ experience working on projects worldwide. As founder and former director of the award-winning UK charity PhotoVoice, she pioneered ethical practice in participatory image-making. Her academic research focuses on arts-based peacebuilding and the role of images and image-making in building peace and dialogue. She completed her PhD in Visual Sociology at Goldsmiths College London, and has been published widely. Her work has been recognised with various awards, including the Royal Photographic Society’s Hood Medal for outstanding advance in photography for public service and a Leverhulme Fellowship. Her book, Imaging Peace, will be published in late 2025.
www.imagingpeace.org ▪ www.tiffanyfairey.co.uk
Ingrid Guyon is a photographer, filmmaker and participatory visual media practitioner. She has more than 15 years of experience in designing and implementing community-engaged, participatory and collaborative audiovisual projects, training and production within the education, museum, NGO, international development and peacebuilding sectors. Born where Nicéphore Niépce took the world’s first photograph and raised in Arles with Les Rencontres de la Photographie, she graduated from the London College of Communication in professional photography practice & video production and later studied social anthropology at Birkbeck, University of London. After working with PhotoVoice, she founded Fotosynthesis, a social enterprise specialising in participatory audiovisual processes, audiovisual education, ethics and production. She is also an associate of Insightshare, a leading company in participatory video.
A highly personal and poignant series of environmental portraits and archival fragments explores the sense of loss and dislocation experienced by Ukrainian and Russian migrants who left their native countries in 2022 and how they rebuild a sense of home in exile.
by Evgeniya Strygina
I moved to the UK with two suitcases and a head full of hopes, expectations, and fears. I could never have imagined that it was possible to pack up your entire life and move to a country you’d never been to before — not as a tourist, but to live. In a single day, I traded a cosy past for complete uncertainty: a new language, a new cultural environment, no helpful connections, no job, no settled home, and a planning horizon of, at best, a month. It’s not just stepping out of your comfort zone. It’s more like a leap into open space without a spacesuit. Recklessness or bravery? I’d say both. This abrupt turning point — when life turned upside down — forced me to rethink many things. Among them was my approach to art and what I chose to photograph. Previously, I have developed several series exploring landscapes and cityscapes, as well as nature and architecture, but always with a focus on the environment rather than the people who inhabit it. In fact, I often tried to avoid including humans in the frame. My strategy was to deconstruct familiar scenes and reduce them to their visual essence, offering viewers a new way to look at the everyday. What fascinated me most was the relationship photography has to reality. It’s a reflection of life, but never an exact copy. There’s always an element of interpretation and of subjectivity. This fragile thread between fact and fiction offered the possibility of creating an alternative universe.
continued overleaf
From the personal archive of Anastasiia Tory, Odesa, Ukraine
The approach I took for Home from Home was very different from my earlier work. This is a story about home and its significance for those who have become immigrants — whether by force or by choice. The project involves Ukrainians and Russians who left their native countries after February 2022 and moved abroad, either temporarily or permanently. From the beginning, I believed it was important to include both Ukrainians and Russians in the project. I wasn’t interested in comparing experiences or making parallels. What united all the people I photographed was a shared sense of loss and confusion in a new environment. That feeling goes beyond nationality or politics — it’s fundamentally human.
Through photography, I aim to tell the stories of these people by capturing them in places or with objects that give them a sense of belonging and to understand how the concept of “home” is constructed — memories, smells, recurring rituals, and habits. Has their understanding of home in a
new reality fundamentally changed? Perhaps the traditional idea of “home” no longer exists.
This body of work tells human stories about rebuilding a feeling of home in a foreign land. It’s about what happens after displacement — how people reinvent their lives and begin again from scratch. It’s a reflection on the emotional landscapes of migration and the quiet, ongoing process of becoming someone new. While the human subject became central, the environment continued to play a significant role. I often photographed people within days — sometimes even hours — of them moving into a new home. I asked them to pause, to take in their surroundings, and to reflect on these questions: Where am I? How does this place make me feel? Do I want to stay, or run?
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From the personal archive of Ginny, Kharkiv, Ukraine RIGHT
I realised straight away that I didn’t want to shoot a documentary project, nor did I want to stage the photographs. But what I wanted only became clear during the process, as I navigated the balance between these two extremes — “capturing” and “directing”. I decided — alright, if I’m going to capture something, it will be selective, not everything in sight. If I’m going to direct, it will be about guiding, not controlling. The resulting series of environmental portraits captures the participant and the setting. In many ways, Home from Home became the most personal project I’ve ever done. I left my home country, and like many others, I was suddenly faced with the necessity of starting over. This
project gave me a way to connect, to find solidarity, and perhaps to understand my own story better. For the first time, I used my photography as an excuse to talk to people — this mattered more to me than capturing a powerful shot. I wanted to ask, not out of politeness, but sincerity: How are you now, after everything that has happened? Often, conversations lasted longer than taking photos. Maybe this was because the day of the shoot was usually the first time I met the person. But mostly because every single story of relocation was so deeply emotional. It turned everything inside out and evoked powerful feelings — chills, tears, and raw honesty.
From the personal archive of Nastya, Zhovti Vody, Ukraine
A recurring theme in these conversations was the painful challenge of adjusting to a new reality. It’s as if you’ve spent your whole life being a square, and now you’re expected to become a circle. To do this, you have to cut down your edges. You lose parts of yourself. It hurts. And sometimes, you stop recognising yourself. Almost everyone I photographed seemed suspended in a state of timelessness — caught between two countries, between the familiar and the foreign, between a well-known “before” and an unknown “after”. For some of the participants, the UK is a destination. For others, it’s a starting point — or just a stop along the
way. One place among many. Today it’s Winchester, tomorrow Berlin, and six months later, Vilnius. As some of them jokingly said, they are professional home losers. Or home seekers — I like that better. What touched me deeply was how people opened the doors of their new homes to a complete stranger. They trusted me. They weren’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of the camera. I stayed in touch with many of them afterwards, and that was both fascinating and emotionally complex for me — to separate the real people, who had become part of my life and were changing as they went through the emotional and practical challenges of
immigration and were gaining new experiences and perspectives, from the images of them frozen in time, captured at one particular moment of their journey. I needed to draw a line between the person I’d come to know and the photograph I was working with — editing, sequencing, and placing it within a narrative. My emotional connection to the person didn’t always align with how I responded to their image as part of the project. On the one hand, it continued to shift and grow; on the other hand, it became part of a story — a visual fragment I had to see differently, sometimes with a certain distance.
From Anna, Andrei, Vanya & Venya’s personal archive
I assumed the hardest part of the project would be approaching people and organising the photoshoots. It wasn’t. The real challenge came afterwards. I was left alone with hundreds of images and the task of turning them into something coherent. Sorting through them and searching for threads and meaning was a lonely, emotional process. Later, while preparing the photobook, I asked participants to share personal images from their past — snapshots of their former homes, old family photos, and small moments from before everything changed. These archival fragments added emotional weight and depth to the narrative. I also included direct quotes, capturing their
reflections on what “home” means and how it feels to lose it.
I never thought I would work on the same topic for two years. Not in my usual way — shoot and then move on — but slowly and tediously. Sometimes in euphoria, sometimes through feeling, “I can’t do this anymore”. In the end, Home from Home is probably the most important thing I’ve done to process everything that happened — both personally and collectively. It’s a human project. It asks what it means to start over: what we carry with us, what we leave behind, and what it takes to feel at home again in a place that isn’t yet home — but might be, one day.
Evgeniya Strygina (b. 1989) is a lens-based visual artist exploring urbanisation, contemporary landscape, and immigration. She honed her skills at the Fine Art Photography School, Moscow Museum of Modern Art, and PhMuseum. Since relocating to the UK in 2022, her work has been exhibited at Photo|Frome Festival, London Lighthouse Gallery, Cicek Gallery, and LoosenArt Gallery, with publications in Fisheye Magazine, Truth in Photography, Al-Tiba9 Art Magazine , and Artdoc Photography Magazine
Notable awards include the Top 150 MIRA Mobile Prize, MonoVisions Awards, and Photometria Awards judged by Martin Parr. In 2023, she held a solo exhibition after an art residency in the Czech Republic. Her first photobook, Home from Home, is scheduled for release in 2025 with the publisher Ephemere. www.soul-editor.com ▪ www.instagram.com/souleditor
From Evgeniya Strygina’s photobook Home from Home (Ephemere, 2025). This spread is the author’s personal story.
Love and loss in the spaces left behind
Traces of a much-loved woman tell a stark story of grief in a quiet yet powerful series of minimal monochromatic images.
by Kathryn Audet
Photography, for me, has always been a way of holding on — to memory, to presence, to the intangible moments that slip through language. It is more than a visual art form; it is an intimate dialogue between what was and what still lingers, a convergence of past and future within a single frame.
In my most recent series, Woven, I turn the lens toward personal loss, using quiet, monochromatic images to explore the emotional architecture of absence. The visual language is intentionally spare. Emptiness is not a backdrop — it is the subject. The compositions are quiet by design, structured to create space where the viewer must sit with what is no longer there.
This body of work emerged after the death of a woman we called Ama — Jennifer. She was not family by blood but became family in every way that mattered. During a time when my daughter
faced complex medical needs and my husband was deployed overseas, Jennifer stepped in. What began as a friendship grew into something foundational: she became a mother-in-law to me, a bonus grandmother to my child, and a quiet, steady source of calm in our home.
Her love was never loud. It lived in daily gestures — accompanying us to appointments, folding herself into our routines, offering comfort without performance. She created safety not through drama, but through repetition. Through presence. Then life shifted. A car accident left Jennifer with a traumatic brain injury. What followed was a long, slow unravelling — a goodbye stretched across years. When she passed in November 2024, it wasn’t sudden. But the finality landed like a stone in still water. In that silence, I turned to the camera — not to narrate her life, but to render what remained.
I chose black and white from the outset. Not to distance the viewer, but to collapse time. Colour, in its fullness, can sometimes distract or soften. But grief is not soft. It is clean-edged and cavernous. Black and white, with its inherent austerity, reflects how memory behaves after loss — stripped of vibrancy, reduced to form, shadow, and suggestion.
At the centre of the work are two photographs. In one, a wedding dress hangs on a closet door — simple, elegant — flanked by black hangers that resemble silhouettes. In the other, a slightly crooked portrait rests on a bare white wall. The starkness is not incidental — it is intrinsic. The clean lines, negative space, and high contrast work together to echo the contours of grief. Every compositional decision — the absence of clutter, the deliberate use of shadow, the minimal depth — was made to reflect the hollowness left in the wake of loss.
There are no conventional symbols of mourning — no wilted flowers or visible tears. Instead, I use metaphor embedded in objects: the unworn dress, the crooked portrait, the space between hangers. These choices act as emotional placeholders. They hold grief without naming it directly. They are less narrative and more architectural — structures built around what is missing.
Minimalism here is not an aesthetic flourish, but a necessity. The edge of the image becomes an environment, and every omission is intentional. I let light fall flat against walls. I emphasize blankness. I play with visual balance — then disrupt it. Shadows are allowed to stretch. Lines fall just slightly out of symmetry. The tension created in those formal choices mimics the dissonance of living with loss: how everything can appear intact, while feeling off-kilter within.
Emotional landscapes
These images are not biography; they are elegy. They do not recount Jennifer’s life in scenes. Instead, they offer atmosphere, gesture, presence through absence. The physical spaces — her closet, our hallway, the wall above the stairs — become emotional landscapes. These are the places where her absence is most deeply felt, and where her presence once felt most essential.
Rendered in greyscale, the images resist sentimentality. They do not offer comfort. But they do offer clarity. Each frame becomes a vessel — not for narrative closure, but for emotional residue. What remains is not emptiness, but evidence. A trace. A weight. A whisper.
Jennifer’s legacy does not live in a single photograph. It is woven into the rhythm of our days — in the cadence of bedtime routines she helped establish, the soft steadiness she brought to moments of chaos, the calm she infused into the texture of our lives. Her love was not declarative. It was embodied.
This work is a meditation on chosen family, and a tribute to the kind of love that lingers long after the body is gone. It is about how people embed themselves not through grand gestures, but through presence over time. Through care. Through quiet. In their starkness, these photographs speak of life and death not as opposites, but as intimates.
Every space once filled becomes a memory. Every absence, an echo. And sometimes, the most stripped-down images are the ones most saturated with meaning.
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In sharing this work, I invite viewers to pause — to enter the stillness, to feel the weight of what remains, and to recognize the quiet forms love can take. Because photography, at its most powerful, is not only about what we see. It’s about what we feel. And in grief — as in art — it is often the spaces left behind that speak the loudest.
About Kathryn Audet
Kathryn’s photography explores themes of identity, memory, and the complex relationship between people and place. Through her lens, she captures fleeting moments that invite reflection and evoke a quiet nostalgia — images that ask viewers to pause and look more closely.
Her work is rooted in the poetry of the everyday. Whether it’s the weathered surface of an old building or the intricate patterns found in nature, Kathryn is drawn to the subtle details often overlooked. She seeks to illuminate the quiet beauty of the mundane, uncovering stories in the spaces between presence and absence.
At the heart of her practice is a celebration of resilience, transformation, and the ongoing journey of selfdiscovery. By highlighting the small moments that shape our days, Kathryn invites others to see the world with renewed curiosity and wonder.
Her work has been recognized by the Julia Margaret Cameron Awards and the International Photography Awards, and she has also been featured in the Exposure Photography Festival’s Emerging Photographers Showcase. Kathryn is based in Calgary, Alberta, and her photographs have been exhibited in Canada, the US, and UK, and are held in numerous private collections. www.kathrynaudet.com ▪ www.instagram.com/kathrynaudetphotography
Harriet, Experienced Stonemason
I felt privileged to be witness to Harriet taking moulds from the ancient stone high up on the building, learning about how she works and finding out what’s important to her.
The women at the heart of an ancient cathedral
From a bishop to stonemasons, musicians to police, a portrait series celebrates the many vocations of those working in York Minster today.
by Olivia Hemingway
I love to capture images of people in their everyday surroundings: at work, at home, in social spaces such as cafes, or in places or situations where they feel comfortable and at ease. I’m interested in individual lives and personal stories, so when the opportunity arose to work as Artist in Residence at York Minster and to photograph a series of women working in the Minster, I was excited to be involved.
The project sits within the context of the 100th anniversary of the rededication of the Minster’s Five Sisters Window, which became a memorial to women who died in the First World War. It felt like such an important project as it highlights how, before this time, there was no national memorial to these women. To then be able to bring this up to date and look behind the scenes of women’s lives today was fascinating.
From studios and workshops to grand interiors and scaling the exterior of the building, I was given amazing access. Included in the series were eight vocations and 10 women (not to mention three dogs and one grotesque!) I had considerable creative freedom to represent the individual, their vocation, relationships and sometimes something a little different or unexpected.
I photographed a curator, a bishop, an experienced stonemason, a canon missioner (senior member of the clergy), a chaplain, a member of the choir, glaziers and York Minster Police. I invited sitters to bring along an object that meant something to them or to think about what story they would like to tell in their portraits. They were also interviewed separately, and this text sits alongside the images in the photography exhibition in York Minster’s Chapter House, which runs until November 2025.
Harriet, Experienced Stonemason
Harriet has been a mason for 15 years. Before this, she worked in the Minster’s shop for eight and a half years. Bracken, a Border Terrier and “K9 Mason”, has worked at the Minster for five years with his owner, Dave. Harriet is part of a team of masons who care for, conserve, and restore York Minster. She started as an apprentice. The Minster has a long tradition of training generations of craftspeople. I wanted to include Bracken the dog in the series, as he accompanies Harriet while she carves in the workshop and is a big part of her working day. I found the atmosphere in the workshop so calm and easy, and I think this energy comes from Harriet. Her tool roll includes her father’s chisels; she lost her dad when she was young. He was a teacher and had a huge impact on her life. In this moment, Harriet and Bracken are looking in different directions, and I composed the image so that if you look closely, you can see details on the top right, including some wind-up teeth, and a picture of her dad.
Gwynne, Chaplain
Gwynne has volunteered as a chaplain at York Minster for 11 years. She was ordained in Chicago 25 years ago after a successful career at IBM.
Chaplains are in the Minster for people who need someone to talk to. Gwynne always leaves a seat free next to her in case someone would like to sit and talk. She is inspired by Julian of Norwich, a medieval mystic and pioneering female author. Julian had a vision – a revelation – about a simple hazelnut.
When making portraits, I regularly ask people to bring objects in that are meaningful to them. In this case, I was photographing Gwynne in the cathedral and at that moment I was blown away as she brought out a ziplock bag that contained a little dish with hazelnuts carefully stored inside.
As we stood in such an opulent setting, surrounded by stained glass and gilding, it was moving to be given such a simple, humble object. I immediately asked her to hold it so I could focus on the details of the hazelnuts and her hands.
Bev and Debbie, York Minster Police
York Minster Police can trace their history back 800 years. This makes them perhaps the oldest police force in the world. They keep people safe within the seven hectares of the Minster’s land. Each officer receives training from the Cathedral Constables Association, and they work closely with Home Office police forces.
Towards the end of my shoot with the York Minster Police, it was suggested that they should have an ice cream as a “thank you”. I immediately misinterpreted this to mean that they could be photographed with the ice creams and excitedly ran with it as a theme.
Everyone was very accommodating and happy to be involved, and I was pleased to capture an image with Paddington Bear, too, capturing the light-hearted in contrast to the serious.
RIGHT - This image has a photo-documentary feel. I love the direct-to-camera gaze and the power in these two women as they stride; the legs work effectively with the shadows from the trees.
Abbie and Lydia, Glaziers, York Glaziers Trust
Abbie joined York Glaziers Trust after seeing their work to restore the stained glass at Rochdale Town Hall. Lydia has worked at the Trust for six years, joining whilst partway through a Master’s in stained glass conservation.
York Glaziers Trust is the oldest and largest stained glass conservation studio in the UK, and one of the largest in Europe. A charitable trust, they are dedicated to the care and conservation of historic stained glass in York Minster and throughout the UK.
The glaziers’ studio was a dream to photograph within: the backlit, vivid colours, the concentration, calm composition and dedication of the women working there. I love the perspective and how Abbie is leaning forward in this image as she cleans the glass.
“Bringing stained glass back to life makes you part of its history, particularly where you are painting in missing pieces,” she says. “Sometimes you can still see the fingerprints left by glaziers 600 years ago.”
Emily, Vicar Choral
Emily is one of York Minster’s professional singers, known as the “Vicars Choral”. The Minster’s Vicars Choral can trace their roots back to AD1252; Emily is their first female member.
She has sung professionally for 11 years, including at several of the UK’s cathedrals. Her journey began, however, at the National Youth Choir of Scotland.
“Music has always been a constant in my life, and from a young age I knew it would be my path,” Emily says. “I love knowing that the music we create has the potential to touch those who come through the Minster’s doors.”
This image frames Emily in the doorway of the Chapter House, the location of the photography exhibition. continued overleaf
Maggie, Canon Missioner
As York Minster’s Canon Missioner, Maggie is a senior priest and one of the first women to be ordained in the Church of England.
Much of Maggie’s work focuses on pilgrimage, and she works to ensure all visitors can enjoy a spiritual moment at York Minster.
For any commission, I tend to have at least one strong image or ideal scenario in the back of my mind. At the same time, I like to be flexible to work with changes and ready to capture spontaneous moments when they arise. On this day, towards the end of the shoot, without any discussion Maggie got down on the floor of the Chapter House to see the centre point of the architecture, and so I immediately lay down too, capturing the moment she smiles to camera and conveying the fun and spark in her personality.
Kirsty, Curator
Kirsty works as a curator at York Minster’s Old Palace Library. This is where they keep many of the 300,000 artefacts in their care.
Among them is this exquisite reliquary, which may have belonged to St William of York nearly 900 years ago.
Kirsty recently celebrated 10 years working at the Minster. She is determined to create opportunities for everyone to participate in and be empowered by arts and culture.
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Eleanor, Bishop of Hull
Eleanor was born in Yorkshire, grew up in Derbyshire and moved to New Zealand to study. After completing a PhD in Geography, she went on to study Theology and was ordained in 2005.
Eleanor held senior posts in the Diocese of Wellington, New Zealand. Her principal interest is in public theology – how theology can help us to build a better, fairer society.
In this image, she carries a crozier — the mark of office of a bishop — that resembles a shepherd’s crook.
Visiting the Exhibition
The programme Visions, Voices, Vocations: Celebrating & Commemorating Women in York Minster runs until 16th November, 2025.
Entrance to the exhibition is included with a general admission ticket. The portrait exhibition is open in the Chapter House during standard visiting hours.
www.yorkminster.org/visions-voices-vocations
About Olivia Hemingway
Olivia Hemingway is a UK-based photographer and artist known for her narrativedriven work, capturing people’s lives in everyday surroundings.
She has collaborated with major cultural institutions including Tate, the National Portrait Gallery, the BBC, Nasher Sculpture Center in Texas, and Imperial War Museums, as well as working with notable people such as Sir Quentin Blake, Massive Attack, Jodie Whittaker, and Sir Patrick Stewart. Her photography has been exhibited in venues such as The Barbican, Leeds City Museum, Buckingham Palace, and Beningbrough Hall Gallery and Gardens.
Hemingway’s portfolio spans both artistic and commercial projects, including an artist residency at York Minster, which commemorates the 100th anniversary of the creation of the first and only national memorial to the women who lost their lives in World War One. Her exhibition celebrates the diverse vocations of women working in the Minster in 2025.
How one photographer moved from curiosity to deep connection on her seasonal visits to witness the people, atmosphere and evolving traditions at the prehistoric site.
by Livvi Grant
My first visit to Stonehenge was for the Spring Equinox of 2024. I went with my mum. Neither of us knew quite what to expect. We set off from Taunton in the early hours, and as we approached the stones under a soft, misty sky, any trace of tiredness vanished. There was something in the air — a hush, an anticipation, a sense of stepping into something ancient. That morning sparked the beginning of a photographic project that has since unfolded season by season across the ritual year.
I was drawn to photograph Stonehenge initially out of curiosity, but it quickly became something deeper. I’ve always been interested in folklore, ritual and the ways people find meaning in rhythm. Experiencing the Equinox first-hand, the warmth of the crowd, the variety of people, the shared reverence left a lasting impression. It felt like a place where everyone belonged.
From that first experience grew Between Sun and Stone, a documentary and portrait photography project capturing the people, atmosphere and traditions of seasonal gatherings at Stonehenge. It spans Spring Equinox, Summer Solstice, Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice. Through my lens, I’ve aimed not only to show what these gatherings look like, but how they feel.
Something that struck me immediately — and continues to move me with each visit — is the sheer diversity of those who gather. People travel from across the world and from just down the road. Children wrapped in sleeping bags. Teenagers making quiet pilgrimages. Pregnant mothers, older couples, druids, tourists, festival goers, regulars and first-timers. Each brings their own reason for being there, and yet together they form a collective. A temporary community built on openness, shared intention and a deep respect for the turning of the year.
RIGHT Summer Solstice
Fluid tradition
Growing up, I often felt like I didn’t quite fit in. But at Stonehenge, I felt welcomed. That spirit of acceptance is something I’ve tried to honour through my images. I’m drawn to the quieter moments as much as the theatrical ones, the silent offerings, eyes closed in reflection, a hand resting on ancient stone. These unspoken gestures, shared among strangers, feel sacred. It would be easy to dismiss these events as
eccentric or performative, but I’ve found the opposite. The connection many people feel here runs deep. For some, it’s spiritual, for others, cultural or ancestral. And for many, it’s simply a moment to be present, grounded in the earth and sky.
Photographing this project has shifted how I think about tradition. Too often, we associate tradition with formality or rigidity. But what I’ve witnessed is something far more fluid and alive.
These are rituals that adapt and evolve each year, shaped by those who turn up. They are responsive, personal and deeply human.
The title Between Sun and Stone came to me early. It reflects both the physical — sunlight streaming through the stones at solstice — and the metaphorical — that liminal space where ancient landscape meets contemporary ritual and strangers come together to mark the passing of time.
continued overleaf
LEFT AND RIGHT Summer Solstice
New audiences
The zine for the project developed quite organically. As I built up a body of work across the ritual year, I wanted to do something tangible with it, something that could exist off-screen. I’ve always loved print, and the idea of a zine felt right: intimate, tactile and accessible. The images are printed on uncoated paper with a warm, matte feel. I didn’t want it to be overly polished, but to reflect the gatherings themselves — unfiltered, atmospheric and real.
Putting the zine together was a joy. I worked slowly, curating the images to reflect the arc of the year and the energy of each celebration. I also decided to donate 30% of each sale to The Royal Marsden Cancer Charity, a cause close to my heart due to a family member receiving treatment there. It felt important to use the project as a way of giving back.
The response has been overwhelming. People who’ve never visited Stonehenge have told me how the zine helped them see the site and its gatherings in a new light. Others who regularly attend have said they feel seen in the work, and that matters to me deeply. I want people to recognise themselves, to feel reflected and respected.
Shortly after the zine launch, I was invited to exhibit the work as part of the NeoAncients Festival in Stroud. It was my first exhibition, hosted at Rough Hands Coffee Shop throughout May 2025. The space was small and welcoming, just like the gatherings I’d photographed. It was wonderful to see the prints displayed together and to witness people pausing with them, reflecting, asking questions. Some visitors had never been to Stonehenge or even heard of the solstice gatherings, and I loved being able to introduce them to this world.
LEFT AND ABOVE Spring Equinox
LEFT TO RIGHT Autumn Equinox
PREVIOUS PAGE AND ABOVE Winter Solstice
Waiting and watching
This past Summer Solstice in 2025, I didn’t return to Stonehenge. Instead, I was in Mallorca and experienced the island’s solstice celebrations, attending “Nit de Foc”, or the Night of Fire. It was electric, chaotic and charged with ritual in its own way, and a fascinating contrast to the gatherings I’ve documented at Stonehenge.
When making images at the gatherings, I always begin by walking the site. I scan the crowd, look for where the light is falling and get a sense of the mood. I shoot with a fixed lens and rely on natural light. That choice forces me to move deliberately, to slow down, to really see. It also keeps me grounded in observation rather than orchestration. Wherever
possible, I don’t direct my subjects. I wait, watch, and try to honour what’s already unfolding.
Looking ahead, this is a project I’ll continue to build on. The wheel of the year turns, and each turn brings new people, new light and new moments. The essence stays the same: a coming together, a shared breath, a marking of time.
This work has allowed me to meet people I never otherwise would have crossed paths with. There’s an intimacy in portraiture, especially in fleeting, charged environments, that requires trust. I’m constantly humbled by the openness of the people I photograph.
To me, that’s what’s worth documenting. Not just the spectacle, but the sincerity.
About Livvi Grant
Livvi Grant is a Somerset-based documentary and portrait photographer whose work explores themes of community, ritual, and belonging. With a background in PR and storytelling, Livvi brings a sensitive, narrative-driven approach to her images — often working with natural light and an observational style. Her first self-published zine, Between Sun and Stone, documents the ritual year at Stonehenge and was exhibited as a solo show during the 2025 NeoAncients Festival in Stroud.
Livvi is a member of the RPS Women in Photography group and is contributing to the 40% Project , photographing female MPs. She has been studying on The Emmas Spring Intensive to further develop her creative practice. Alongside photography, she runs Daffodil PR, a communications agency co-founded with her mother. Livvi is particularly interested in the intimacy of portraiture and the role photography plays in helping people feel seen, understood, and connected—both to each other and to place. www.livvigrant.co.uk ▪ www.instagram.com/livvicegrant
A digitally altered image of a 1920s mother and child, to represent Kate with her adopted daughter, Betty.
The mysterious tale of Madame X
Capturing details of an unsolved crime in South Wales and the woman behind the headlines, nearly a century after her murder.
by Dr Nell Darby
On a winter's night in 1929, Kate Jackson, the wife of a fish seller, returned home to her bungalow in Limeslade, South Wales, after an evening at the cinema in nearby Mumbles. She had been to see a film with her next-door neighbour and the two friends walked home together, saying goodbye from their respective doorsteps. Seconds later, Kate was attacked by an unseen assailant, dying several days later in hospital. RIGHT
My day job is that of a crime historian, and I specialise in 19th and early 20th century British crime. While my work is mostly text-based, I also present a television series on murder cases. Throughout my career, I’ve found words to be only part of the story – in order to fully bring it to life you need images powerful enough to conjure up the main characters' journey.
I've always wanted to utilise photography more fully in my work and, a couple of years ago, I took part in an RPS short course on visual storytelling
where I was tasked with thinking of a story I would like to tell. At the time, I had been researching a cold case set in Limeslade, South Wales, and wondered whether photography could help tell that particular narrative. From this process emerged a book, The Murder of Madame X , a detailed account of the brutal and unresolved murder of Kate Jackson — also known as “Madame X” due to her involvement as a witness in a trial involving a former lover — and an investigation into who her killer might have been.
Condiments in a London café representing where Kate met her husband Tom.
ABOVE CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT
A lightbox image of a peaked cap, as often worn by Tom Jackson.
A lightbox image of a vintage camera, representative of the role the press played in shaping the public perception of Kate Jackson. The murder weapon: a 1920s tyre lever.
To develop the book, I used a combination of archive photos, still life photos, and scene recreations. I also conducted painstaking research, ploughed through old newspapers and archives, and even scoured second-hand shops and websites to locate vintage items from the time of the murder — including a 1920s tyre lever, the murder weapon used to kill Kate. I chose to present the images in
black and white, to both replicate contemporary newspaper images and to recreate a sense of foreboding. Furthermore, the book itself was designed to echo the old Penguin crime novels that I used to read at my grandmother's house as a child. The intent wasn’t to sell copies, but rather to see the project through and receive a single copy that I could hold and appreciate.
A composite recreation of a police report in the archives, detailing the clothes worn by Kate when she was attacked.
The planning process was also very interesting and presented various questions: How could I locate the various places mentioned in newspaper and police reports? How would I show these places and objects in different ways? And how could I make them a vital part of the story? I tried to create images that didn’t appear jarring within the context of the 1920s setting, in addition to sourcing historical items that fit within both the textual and visual narrative. My aim was to learn how to use images to aid the telling of a crime story.
Kate came from a working-class family in Lancashire and was one of 10 children. Her father was a labourer and, as a young woman, Kate had worked as a spinner in one of the local cotton mills. After marrying, and while living in Surrey, she had adopted a baby girl — originally named Joyce by her unmarried mother but renamed Betty by Kate. She was said to adore the child.
One of the reasons I chose to focus on the murder of Kate Jackson was because I wanted to give her redress from how she had been depicted
in the press. Historically, female murder victims are often portrayed negatively in the press due to perceptions of their personal lives. For instance, Jack the Ripper’s victims were, for a long time, viewed as prostitutes and thus almost seen to be deserving of a horrible fate. Even 40 years after the Ripper murders, Kate was also subjected to this view. She had had affairs with several men, including with a married trade union leader that resulted in him stealing money to fund her lifestyle, and had lied about her background. But also, and
fundamentally, she was seen as an outsider in South Wales. This affected how she was viewed by local society and in the press, for her husband, Tom Jackson, who was acquitted of her murder, was a local man and thus viewed sympathetically. continued overleaf
The Old Bailey, where Kate once appeared as a witness, known in the press as “Madame X”.
Kate was attacked on her return from a trip to the cinema.
In murder cases like this, it’s easy to sometimes forget that its victims were real people. Even in contemporary cases, photos and details of their private lives are splashed over newspaper pages, even when these have no bearing on their murder. On the television shows I've been involved in, I've always made clear that there must be empathy towards the victims and their families, creating a
three-dimensional picture of who they were, not just focused on who killed them. In the case of Kate Jackson, I made sure I researched her life, her childhood, her family, and built a picture of her as a woman. I’ve learned that images are a vital part of bringing a historical crime story to life, and I hope to have utilised them effectively to tell the story of Madame X.
Wardour Street, London: one of the places where Kate met suitors.
continued overleaf
RIGHT
Extract
from The Murder of Madame X
It was a Monday night, 4 March 1929. Kate had planned a trip to the local cinema with Dimmy – Olive Dimick – and so her neighbour duly called for her. Kate cared about her appearance, and so had done her hair and make-up before Olive's arrival. They left Kenilworth, the Jacksons’ bungalow, at 6pm and walked down to Mumbles, a walk of just over a mile if they followed the inland roads, rather than the coastal path. What film they watched – whether it was a new release, such as The Broadway Melody, or a classic, like The Ten Commandments – is not known. However, the film finished at 9.30pm, and the two women then made the return walk to Limeslade. They were home by ten.
At their gates, they said goodbye. Kate went round the side of the house to get in through the rear scullery door, while Olive went into her house through the front door, took her hat off, and went to put it on a hook. There was only a matter of seconds, Olive later said, that elapsed between her saying goodbye to Kate, and then hearing Kate screaming. Olive ran outside and round to her neighbours’ back door, where she found Kate Jackson lying in a heap outside, close to the door. Tom Jackson was there, clad only in his underclothes, trying to get Kate up. When he saw Olive, he said: “Help me to pick her up, Dimmy. I don't know what has happened to her.”
Whatever it was had happened in an incredibly short space of time. Olive had barely made her way into her bungalow, before hearing Kate’s screams and, barely pausing, rushing back out. Tom said that he had been in bed when Kate was attacked. He had fallen asleep reading a book, only to have been woken by a scream, followed by a thud. He ran to the back door, and found Kate lying on the floor.
Shortly afterwards, according to his account, Olive Dimick ran along and asked what had happened. There were a few discrepancies in the accounts of these key witnesses, and at one point, Tom claimed that Olive had reached Kate first. Whose account was the truth? And who could have attacked Kate within earshot of Olive, and still been able to escape, unseen either by her or by Tom?
Llansamlet graveyard – image taken from the same position as a 1929 press photo to show where Kate’s grave was located.
About Dr Nell Darby
Nell qualified as a journalist before gaining a PhD in the history of crime and becoming a crime historian. As a freelance history writer, she has written features for a variety of publications, including BBC History and The Guardian. On television, she presents the long-running CBS Reality series Murder By The Sea, which looks at crime cases from the Victorian era to the present day. She has also published several history books, with her most recent being a retelling of an Edwardian crime case, Britain's Greatest Private Detective: The Rise and Fall of Henry Slater (Pen & Sword, 2025). She is currently researching the history of private detectives.
Her photography also reflects an interest in history, with a focus on historic architecture. In 2021, she was chosen to be part of the female photographers Fourteen project in Oxfordshire, culminating in an exhibition during the Photo Oxford festival. www.secretsleuths.substack.com ▪ www.instagram.com/drnelldarby
by Marina Tsaregorodtseva
THE BIG PICTURE
Featuring abstract, geometric compositions, this body of work is a personal exploration of identity, developed through a process of selfreflection. Handmade paper forms trace the emotional and psychological shifts that followed a major life transition: moving to a new country and leaving behind a structured career in accounting to pursue an open-ended path in a creative field.
At its core, the work asks: What does it take to adapt — to move between languages, cultures, and ways of being? These questions resist fixed answers, as transformation is rarely singular. Transitions unfold gradually, shaped by moments of clarity and doubt. They involve a continuous negotiation between resilience and uncertainty, adaptation and loss — an ongoing process of self-construction and erasure. We break apart in order to reassemble. We let go of one version of ourselves to become another. In a world where change is constant, deconstruction becomes not only a method but a condition of contemporary existence.
By intuitively shaping and bending paper, I translate internal shifts into tangible, visual forms. Creating handmade works is central to my process. It allows me to externalise and articulate emotions that are difficult to express verbally. Light and shadow explore the delicate balance between visibility and concealment, shared identity and private self. The fragility and strength of paper — its ability to hold shape yet remain flexible — mirror the qualities I’m examining in myself.
See the full project: mtsaregorodtseva.com/what-it-takes Instagram: www.instagram.com/oh_marfuta
Image from What it Takes (2025)
Path to Distinction
Anastasia Potekhina
FRPS
Interview
by Rachel Nixon
How the Cyprus-based photographer secured the RPS’ highest distinction with a sophisticated series of self-portraits made entirely by phone.
Self-portrait. On a Rainy Day
Please tell us about your artistic journey and what first drew you to photography.
I was born in the Soviet Union. My father was a creative person who worked as a diplomat, but he was also a poet, and he loved photography. When we travelled together as a family in South Africa, the Seychelles, and Ethiopia, he always made photos and videos, and I did, too. While some people put what they love on canvas, I did it with a camera. Later on, my then-husband was an artist, and we worked together in interior design, where I met a lot of creative people who were very inspiring. I think interior design is about composition, about balance, about harmony, and this helped me to develop my vision.
RIGHT
Self-portrait in the Mirror
Self-portrait in the City
Congratulations on receiving your FRPS distinction! Can you share the concept and inspiration behind your successful submission?
I love reflections. When I walk through the city streets, I often notice interesting reflections around me. The best way to capture them spontaneously is with my phone. My idea was to collect and show a series of photos taken only with my phone — moments when I found these reflections while being alone, deep in thought and personal observations.
When I first applied in 2024 for the FRPS, the assessors offered me a resubmission because they said that my photo panel was not always stylistically
consistent, and they thought some of the images were more like selfies. That, for me, was surprising because I always considered my images as selfportraits. But when the assessors wrote this to me, I realized that some of my images were more minimal — focused on a face and its reflection. Others were more complex and abstract — where I became part of the lines and reflections. For the resubmission [in Spring 2025], I chose to focus on much more complex, layered compositions.
Typically, a selfie is focused only on the face of the person. For me, it's not about the face, but everything together. In my opinion, a self-portrait is when you're integrated into the surroundings. This creates the full composition.
Like your successful distinction panel, much of your work is self-portraiture. What appeals to you about this approach?
All art that people make is a kind of selfportrait because when you're writing something or painting, it's always about yourself, or how you see something.
For me, it's a kind of self-acceptance — looking for my vulnerability and trying to be in touch with that side of myself. It’s helped me to be freer and not criticize myself, not to judge myself. I think it's a very psychological path.
It’s helped me a lot with difficult times in my life because when you have any kind of crisis, you
always have a self-portrait. When I look at the self-portraits I’ve made, it's like a diary because I remember when it was and my situation at the time.
What role does narrative and storytelling play in your work?
I don't put any narrative in, because I prefer that viewers be free to see what speaks to their personality. When people give me their opinions at exhibitions, it's very interesting, because it gives me more possibilities to see a wider vision of my work.
What I think is important for me is the form, the composition, the lines, combinations — all these
Self-portrait with Son
things. The form — that is, reflections and all these connections — they give another meaning, they create something new, and that's fascinating for me, too.
Sometimes, for example, when I take a photo, I like it, but I don't know exactly why I like it, or I don't even know what's there. With time and other people talking to me about it, I understand more about my photo.
So I think the reflections are deeper than even I see when I take a photo. Maybe sometimes I don't see everything.
For example, I have a photo with my son where he is holding a piece of glass [not a part of the RPS panel]. I made a self-portrait with a reflection in it,
with my profile reflected in this glass. Afterwards, I noticed that, amazingly, our eyes were positioned one on top of the other so that it seemed like we shared one eye between us.
continued overleaf
Self-portrait. Reflection in a Window
Self-portrait. Reflection in a Glass Door
RIGHT
Self-portrait with Books
How does the environment around you affect your work?
When I changed country, for example: first of all, I was in a country where there were four seasons, there were always different lights, different seasons, morning and evening. Then when I moved [to Cyprus], it's very sunny all the time. So at first, I was a little bit lost because I had to make slightly more minimalistic pictures here.
It was a different creative language for me. But it is interesting because I had to adapt and find something in this environment. I'm looking for a new language here.
But at the same time, it doesn't matter where I am. If something catches the eye, it doesn't
matter what's around; you just see all these pictures and compositions.
What other artists do you appreciate or feel inspired by?
Famous names, of course, like Vivian Maier or Francesca Woodman, although they are both different.
Vivian Maier used reflections and didn't show any emotions — she was just part of the composition, and she built it using herself.
Francesca Woodman was more dramatic — she was emotional, and very inventive in her composition. She took this empty space and was very interesting and inventive in how she grew inside of it.
Let’s return to the FRPS. Could you talk me through your application?
I applied first for the ARPS in 2022, so I already had a bit of experience in this. My ARPS submission was also self-portraiture, but mostly made by [regular] camera.
When I make a self-portrait with a camera, it's more static and calmer because usually I use a tripod, make a composition and then find my place in it. But using a phone is very dynamic because usually you turn it however you want and get different angles.
So for the FRPS, I decided to gather only photos made by phone. When I was choosing images for my panel, I tried to keep a visual rhythm —
something that connected them: the movement of the head, hands, and body.
What did you say in your statement of intent?
I said that we should be a bit like children when they play. They invent things and build all these worlds. So I said that when you create, you become like a child and make a world through your vision.
So this was my important thought. And I talked about how we need to forget the stereotypes placed on us. As adults, we are looking for ways to be different and to find our individuality. I think that this is important in creativity, to try to find
your own voice and be unique in what you do. I also talked about the idea of chaos in the statement. There is chaos all around us, and when I create a composition in a photo, it’s like I’m organizing the space around me using my eye. That way, I find the chaos to be actually structured in my photos. This process of finding order from chaos helps me in life, especially during difficult times.
What was the assessment panel's reaction to the fact that you’d made all of your work by phone?
I think a little bit surprised. But in a good way. I have to say that the cameras of the new phones
now provide a very high standard, because you can make all the backgrounds and all those layered compositions in one shot.
ABOVE LEFT TO RIGHT Self-portrait with Wet Hair Self-portrait. A Shadow in the Water Self-portrait. Reflection in a Window
What was the experience of doing the FRPS like for you? Did you receive support?
I did it by myself, but the support was when the assessors didn't accept my work [for the first submission], and they gave me feedback. It was very useful advice and helpful for me just to look at my work with a different eye.
I really welcome criticism from other people and, although I may not agree with their comments all the time, what they see always provides me with a
different perspective. Getting the Fellowship of the Royal Photographic Society is not just recognition — it’s also a confirmation of my path.
It’s not only about the photos themselves, but also about how I see, feel, and explore the world through self-portraits. It gives me a feeling of being part of a big creative community. And at the same time, it gives me more inner freedom to grow as an artist. It also brings a sense of responsibility — to share, to inspire, and to stay true to my own voice.
Self-portrait. Reflection with a Plant in a Window.
What advice would you give to other female photographers who are thinking of applying for a distinction?
To anyone who is searching for their creative voice:
■ Listen to yourself more.
■ Think about what really moves you.
■ Use your art to look for answers.
■ Don’t aim for perfection. This can be an obstacle to creativity. You can find beauty in imperfection.
■ Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. This is, I think, very important. And use a woman's intuition. I think that women are particularly gifted in this.
What’s your long-term vision for your work?
I want to stay with self-portraiture. I know I'm changing, and my creativity is changing, and I just want to go with the flow. This way, my archive will become my autobiography and will chart the changes in my life.
Learn more about distinctions on the RPS website
About Anastasia Potekhina FRPS
Anastasia Potekhina is a photographer and visual artist based in Cyprus. She creates self-portraits captured in a single frame using reflections, shadows, and natural light, blurring the line between reality and perception. With a degree in textile coloration and a professional background in interior design since 2003, she brings a refined sense of composition and sensitivity to form to her visual work.
Anastasia has been engaged in creative photography since 2009. Her photographs have been exhibited internationally and featured on fine art photography platforms. In 2025, she was awarded a Fellowship of the Royal Photographic Society for her innovative mobile-phone self-portrait series.
Her work explores the delicate connection between self and space, driven by a deep belief in the power of observation and the poetry of the unseen.
www.nassavva.com ▪ www.instagram.com/nassavva
FOCUS
Alex Morefield-Broome
How this MA student’s work in therapeutic photography has provided support for those experiencing addiction and mental health issues.
By Christina Osborne
Alex’s introduction to photography was through her father, who had been an RAF photographer during the war. She remembers taking her first photograph at age six on a Kodak Box Brownie. Later, her father showed her how to develop the film. She smiles as she tells me about making photograms together in the kitchen. Her mother complained that photochemistry had no place in the kitchen.
Her parents’ reaction to her eleven-plus results was that she had “failed miserably”, Alex explains. She was sent to an all-girls technical school where she came first in five subjects, and was top of the class. Her father berated, “If you are going to go for it, then go for it all.” His drive to succeed clearly influenced Alex; her working life includes a photography store, being an assistant medical photographer to the head of department, and teaching photography.
At the age of 21, Alex was diagnosed with dyslexia. Despite this learning disorder, Alex has
graduated from four higher education programmes. She has a BSc in Sociology and Psychology, a BA in Humanities, and a BA in Documentary Photography and Photojournalism, as well as a PGCE teaching qualification.
Driven by a quest to “further her craft”, Alex is enrolled in the MA Photography course at the University of Gloucestershire.
She took a break from the course when her mother died. During this time, she enrolled on a therapeutic photography course and the Belfast Photovoice workshop — both of which fuelled her desire to explore the practice further.
She teamed up with Rachel, a fellow fine arts student. Together, they have won grants to run therapeutic photography courses for the drug and alcohol abuse charity Via, and for the Prison Service. Now back on the MA program, her work in therapeutic photography is the subject of her final major project.
About Therapeutic Phototography
This approach uses photography to help with self-exploration. This could involve family photos or newly-made images.
Often run as a group session with a facilitator, this technique does not require a qualification in psychology and is related to photo therapy and art therapy, which do. This makes it an affordable way of delivering mental health support.
For further reading, see Neil Gibson’s book Therapeutic Photography: Enhancing Self-Esteem, SelfEfficacy and Resilience.
The ‘kick’ of photography
Alex kindly invited me to meet the group that she and Rachel have been working with at Via. They have had five participants who all volunteered to join their “Re-frame” programme. It seems sensible to explain the impact of Alex and Rachel’s work through the stories of some of those people.
I attended the group’s final session by Zoom. The outcome is so powerful that retelling the experience of the three participants who were able to make the closing pop-up exhibition (the other two had work commitments) feels like the best way to describe the impact of therapeutic photography.
Laura
Laura has been diagnosed as neurodivergent. This is a recurring theme amongst those with drug and alcohol addiction. She has a son, Ren, and, with the
help of Via, has been clean for a year. She describes the Re-frame course as “enabling her to replace the kick of drugs with the kick of photography”.
Ren – Laura regrets having reached the age of 40 without attaining a degree. It is obvious that she is putting all into raising her son, and she worries that studying would take away from the time and energy he needs. Laura showed me images that she had printed for the pop-up exhibition, apologising that these were made on her iPhone. But her work offers living proof that one can make stunning, moving work with a phone.
Recognising I am Different – She showed me a selection of the images that she had made. The first was a self-portrait of her feet, showing a birthmark. This had been her contribution to an exercise of taking a portrait without showing a face. She proudly describes this as demonstrating how she is different.
Unresolved Story – One of the group exercises was to make an image with a narrative. Laura photographed an abandoned pair of knickers, tights and a backpack. She points to the unresolved story behind this and questions the vulnerability of the former owner.
Abandoned Belongings – The final image shows her son’s blue toy boat in the back garden. Laura describes this as representing abandoned belongings.
Laura gave permission for the following extract from her journal to be included in this article.
“The course ‘Re-frame’ has reminded me that I am creative and I am capable. The encouragement has been something I didn’t know I needed — with this and the course briefs, I have thrived. I am being encouraged into higher education and praised for my work.
“As a mother who tells herself she has always ‘failed’, it has given me a new hobby and self-belief.
“I was not prepared for what joy this course has brought me, or the opportunities I now, one day, believe I might have. Every day I take a photo; I have not failed”.
continued overleaf
James
James has served in the armed forces, and the trauma of serving has left him with both a drinking problem and mental health difficulties. He lives in a “wet house”, and as a recovering alcoholic, this is difficult. His images explore his family history, and he has found that this process is helping him
understand himself. He describes the workshop as being “both scary and exhilarating at the same time”.
The group has allowed him to make social connections that he would not have otherwise made. He is a natural storyteller, and the group has given him the confidence to talk about himself.
Alan the Fisherman – James explains that he is keen to use his newfound skills to document his life when he was sleeping rough. He shows an image of Alan, a fisherman. Alan was also sleeping rough, but was older than most of the people on the streets. Alan took James under his wing and helped him survive. He is smiling as he describes how Alan taught him how to fish, and that night they ate like kings.
James’s Last Belongings – He proudly shows me several still life images of the few belongings that he still has from his father and grandfather. He talks about the difficulty of keeping belongings while sleeping rough.
Cobwebs and the Rain, Tears on the Face – James had recently taken the image of the droplets on the spider’s web. This image is the result of being encouraged to view the world differently, he explains.
John describes growing up in a family with both parents in the armed forces. He was constantly pushed throughout his childhood. He trained as an engineer and worked in the Middle East. The pressure of his work ethic caught up with him, and he fell into alcohol and drug abuse.
He shows a mixture of beautiful photographs from the past, together with images he has made
during the workshop. His clear eye for composition is evident.
John describes this workshop as having helped him to describe his feelings and emotions through abstract images. He has used photographs from previous travels to explore his mental state. The following text and images are from John’s journal.
Roadworks Safety Barrier – “Anger expressed through intensity, contrast, vivid, dynamic angular elements, darkness, warning, suddenness and abruptness.”
Dark Vent Shaft – “Narrative — Fears of: unease / the unknown / what is hidden / falling / confinement / trapped / darkness / turmoil / tension.”
Backlit Giant Rhubarb Plant Leaf – “The joy of nature, life, growth, colour, light, vivid, intensity.”
John has recently joined the RPS and has been digesting former magazines and joining courses. This has enabled him to realise the quality of his work, and he is now working on photography projects with a band and a kickboxing instructor.
John is planning on joining the MA Photography programme at Falmouth.
The Via workshop has now ended, but the attendees have stayed in contact and are working on a book of their work. All attendees say they benefitted from the workshop, have experienced improved social interaction, and the group has evolved into providing mutual support. The group still centres around photography, and the images
they share often lead to further conversation.
Several attendees have expressed an interest in learning how to teach therapeutic photography so that they can run the course for others.
As for Alex, she is now working on the final major project of her Master’s degree, and will use this experience to further explore therapeutic photography.
About Alex Morefield-Broome
My passion for photography began at the age of six, when my father, a former RAF photographer, encouraged me to use a Box Brownie camera to take photographs of family and friends.
I worked as a medical photographer for 16 years. This allowed me to understand the value of the NHS. Photographing people who had been shot, raped, or suffered child abuse highlighted the pain that the human race can inflict on each other.
Later, I enjoyed working as a national equality and diversity organiser for a major trade union. We worked with the Department of Education, reinforcing the need for an equal voice for over eight years. I admit to being terrified when I was asked to speak at a TUC conference.
During this period, I photographed marches and demonstrations of people fighting for their communities. Ironically, when migrant workers demonstrated against working conditions in the city, they were issued pink slips by the police; they were overjoyed to be recognised as UK residents with working rights.
My interest in community activism is stronger than ever. I believe in giving “invisible” people a voice. I am working with charities using therapeutic photography to assist people suffering from trauma and alcohol and drug addiction. www.ambphotographer.com ▪ www.instagram.com/amb.photographs
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
PROFILE
Agi Modlinska
How this street photographer captures meaningful moments and emotions in cities far and wide.
By Christina Osborne
As I speak with Agi Modlinska, she’s wearing a t-shirt that proudly proclaims “Women can do anything” in bold font. Originally from Poland, Agi has lived in London for 17 years.
Agi’s first exposure to photography was with her academic father. She recalls happy hours spent in the darkroom together while she was at school. Agi’s reintroduction to photography came after her father died in 2021. Wandering along the riverside during the golden hour, she realised the world is full of meaningful moments and emotions and decided to try to capture them.
She bumped into Victor Shohet, a street photographer, who provided her with guidance and helped reinforce her belief that she could also capture moments and emotions on the street. Victor helps run the online community @street_badass. This group provided further encouragement for Agi to tell stories through her photos.
Agi began reading about the technical aspects of photography and also booked herself on several courses. The more she read, the scarier the prospect of taking technically good photographs seemed to become.
While she modestly describes herself as a beginner, when pushed, Agi does concede that she has achieved a level of photography that she can be proud of. Her work has won competitions, been exhibited across Europe and featured in several publications. She won third prize for an image submitted to a European Pride open call and has just had an image selected for exhibition by the London Chapter of the RPS.
I Got My Eyes on You
“This photograph was taken outside the National Portrait Gallery in London. My attention was drawn to the way that people were just passing it under this poignant, vigilant, silent stare. All of a sudden, there was someone who dared to challenge/interact with the image.”
“This is one of my favourite photos. It was taken just three months into my photographic journey. I was sitting in a coffee shop in Mayfair with a photographer friend when I saw the scene but worried that by the time I had taken my camera out and started playing with settings, I would miss the moment. I started to shoot, took a few frames, but was sure they would not be any good. Despite my concern, this image has a motion blur imperfection that provides the magic to this photo.”
Agi began posting on Instagram to showcase her work and receive feedback. While Instagram can be a great source of encouragement, she notes that likes are not a very reliable measurement of quality. She has also used social media as a source of inspiration. She points out that one needs to be careful in reinterpreting someone else's style, as it is possible to find that you are limiting yourself.
“The streets are lonely places for a photographer,” says Agi. To balance this, Agi regularly meets up with other photographers, exchanging ideas and receiving feedback.
Many photographers find it difficult to approach
people on the street. “That’s not a problem that I have,” explains Agi. “My problem is with the camera settings. I always have a moment of panic. I feel that it takes me ages to set the camera up before I take an image.” I look up from making notes, and Agi laughs. “Yes, I worry too much”, she admits.
While Agi has made some strong colour images, high-contrast black-and-white photography is her aesthetic preference.
Unusually, Agi edits her images on her iPad using Snapseed rather than on a laptop or desktop PC. She talks about the struggle to make good photographs. “You have no idea how much I cry when I come home,
Smile To Your Memories
“I was on an urgent mission to find a coffee shop when I spotted this gentleman in Amsterdam’s Nieuwe Spiegelstraat. He was playing chess. The street was busy. The locals and tourists were absorbed in their own world. I bolted out and went to grab a coffee. They say that ‘good things come to those who wait and drink coffee.’ I returned to the spot, hoping that they would still be there. The man whom I had first seen was there, and he was now alone. I captured the moment, and had the feeling that the world had stopped. The scene was even more captivating and unique. He was sitting there in front of the finished game, smiling peacefully. He had a calm aura, and you could see he was both pleased with himself and content with life.”
load the photographs I have taken and then realise that my vision was screwed by technical errors.”
2025 has been a busy year. Agi has attended two workshops, which have helped her understand more about good lighting. She has participated in two podcasts and had work exhibited in London, Paris, Rome, and Venice. She has also been asked to curate by the RRStreet International Hub. Her work is scheduled for exhibition at the Rome Photolab and at the Venice Photolab this autumn.
Agi will attend a street photography workshop with Romanian photographer Ovidiu Selaru when she is in Italy.
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Safe in your Hands
“This image was taken on the Tube in London with an iPhone, proof that the best camera is the one you have in your hand. I am sure I could not capture the moment while waving my Nikon in front of the boy and his parents. It is such an intimate moment expressing love, safety, protection and calm — everything that parenthood means.”
Lost in Thoughts
“I was on a bus in Paris, on my way to see Robert Doisneau’s exhibition. The girl’s face, with a mix of sadness, reflection and hopelessness, captured my soul. I still feel emotional when I look at this image, the way that the girl was looking at me, as if demanding attention, asking to be seen.”
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Gentleman in the Vatican
“I took this photo at the Vatican, during a trip to Rome. I met up with local photographers for a walk around the city and the Vatican. It was a cold but sunny day, and as usual, Rome was swamped with tourists. You know the feeling when you are in a crowded place, and you spot someone who stands out from the crowd. It is the moment when you stop seeing everyone else. I was captivated by the way he was dressed, the way he was walking, and his sense of confidence, purpose and dignity. I started to chase him as he walked so that I could capture him from the side. I hoped he would stop or slow down so my photo would be sharp. He stopped and checked his watch in the most perfect place. The space around him was miraculously empty, which emphasises his uniqueness.”
And she would like to return to film. Agi explains, “I am very hard on myself, and being able to make technically competent analogue images would provide a confidence boost.”
Agi says her work is “very emotional and quick. I rarely stage photographs. My images are spontaneous and are as seen in my head.” I ask Agi about how she views her progress. Claiming to be a beginner when her work is being exhibited around Europe seems increasingly incongruous. Agi laughs, “Perhaps next year I will become advanced. I would rather be a beginner photographer with good photographs than an advanced one who takes awful photographs.”
She shows me a portrait of Donovan, owner of fashion store Iconoclast London, taken at Brick Lane market. “When this image was recently published in Docu Magazine, I went back to find Donovan,” Agi explains. “I did not know what his reaction would be. When I showed him the article, he was delighted, and he asked to buy a print of one of the other images in the series.” Agi laughs. “I guess that this shows the importance of engagement with people.”
The highlight of the last year was meeting Joel Meyerowitz through an RPS event. They have now met several times, and Agi has given Joel a print.
Loneliness in Venice
“Venice has been photographed in every way and from every angle. This image felt different. It captures a combination of the untold stories of Venice, has a sense of loneliness and conveys a desire to grasp and hold onto hope.”
