Pointless vanity project of the former Tabascokid

It’s been said in the past that the collective term for photographers is “a whinge”. To be fair, that’s frighteningly accurate as there is nothing most press photographers enjoy more than a good whine about equipment, weather, dull jobs, uncooperative PR people etc. As you may have gathered from my previous posts, I always try to see the positive side but there are times when things don’t go quite to plan.

The other day I was sent down to a famous hotel in London to shoot Ben Affleck (Team America springs to mind..) who was in town to promote his latest film, “Gone baby Gone“. As is sometimes the way, it was going to be a bit of an experiment in cheekiness/blagging/luck as I was warned that the shoot was probably a private event with only pre-approved photographers allowed.

On arrival, I used my usual technique of looking confident/bored to get past the door security and, after asking a passing concierge, found out which room the shoot was in. Heading up to the second floor, I soon found the room with a couple of photographers stood outside. Now, here was the first test; would they immediately query my attendance with the PR people in the room? One of the guys wandered in and asked how many more photographers were coming and I heard the reply “only the set amount”. Hmm.. Keep my head down then..

Eventually, the PR girl comes out, gathers all five of us together and begins to ask where we want to shoot. Soon I find myself up in a room that consensus decides is too dark. Next we head up to the top floor and a beautifully-lit corridor with an open staircase, skylights and pillars. Perfect. Next up is a quick discussion to work out the best shots. Between us we decide on three shots and get into position, waiting for the arrival of the ‘flick..

The lift door opens and out he steps. We slot into position, but no, Mr Affleck has decided he wants to wear a jacket so off he goes, back down to level two to get his garment of choice. By now, I’ve been surfing the crest of this blag now for about 20 minutes but then it all changed.

“Excuse me, where are you from?” asks a PR clone. I tell them, mustering all my ‘of COURSE, I should be here’ body language. “Ah ok”, she says, turning to boss PR clone to let her know that I’m from a “French company”. Ah.. This is beginning to turn..

“Why are you here?” demands boss PR clone. It’s at this point that you can feel it beginning to slip away as all you can do is give it 30 seconds of bluffing “It was all cleared”, followed by “I wasn’t told it was invite only”, ending with the desperation stakes of, “but why can’t I stay? AFP is the third largest agency in the world! It’s vital publicity for your film!”

I was descending in the lift within seconds. As I arrive on the ground floor, concierge radios blip into life to alert them to the dodgy photographer on the premises and to make sure I leave their fine hotel.

I can’t say I was best pleased. The combination of being SO close to pulling off a blag like that combined with being only spotted due to “Mr. Affleck” deciding on a wardrobe change makes me an unhappy camper. What makes it worse is that I wasn’t really bothered about getting a shot of him. The challenge of getting it was more appealing than actually having it! I guess I won’t be quite making the Mission/Impossible team JUST yet..

As you may have gathered, due to my complete failure in completing my Mission du Jour, I have had to grab an image of Ben from other sources. I’m particularly fond of it though..

As another example of coincidental spookiness, following a conversation that I had with my parents at the weekend of who I’d like to shoot, this morning I found myself shaking hands with one of the people that I’d mentioned.

World traveller and ex-Monty Python star Michael Palin was attending the launch of “Oxford Thinking” in Central London, a campaign that aims to raise £1.5billion in order to maintain and strengthen the world-standing of the famous University. After a very dry press conference with the Chancellor-types, I had the chance to grab him for 30 seconds, tell him that I’m currently enjoying his diaries, the I’m also from Sheffield and drop a few frames.

There’s always been some strange thing with Michael in that he really reminds me both in looks and, I guess, in character of my Father. Having passed him on various busy streets and escalators in London over the last few years where I’ve been unable to stop him and give him a business card, it was a real pleasure to get to finally catch up with him and act like a dumb fan for a few minutes. Bravo, that man..

As I said in the previous post, one of the biggest pleasures in this job is getting to see behind the scenes. This can be wildly different in it’s interpretation ranging from literally behind the scenes as a tv programme is being made to being allowed through the “Staff only” door in some important building.

I can see in some of the guys that have been doing this for a long time that it must be hard not to become jaded by the whole experience but I think it’s priceless to retain that enjoyment of whatever unique experiences you get to sample in life. I must be the worst person in the world to buy gifts for as I get the biggest buzz from trying something new for the first time. By that, I don’t want to sound like some gimp who throws himself over dam walls and frozen waterfalls to try and chase the adrenaline dragon. It’s more a case of just seeing the world from somewhere new. This could be anything from the watching the Tour de France cyclists ride across Tower Bridge to watching a human pyramid get into position in a closed off underground train station while they film a muesli bar advert. Both new new to me and both a reasonably exclusive opportunity..

Having access to people and places as “the news” happens is a genuine thrill as you get to see for yourself what everyone else will be hearing about on the news later or in the paper the next morning. I remember a moment of “woahhh” when I first started in London when it dawned on me that when a photographer shoots a picture and it makes the newspaper the following day, thousands of people are seeing the world from behind their eyes. How you compose the frame, how you decided to interpret the events, how you positioned yourself to get that shot with a little something different; it all adds up to create your unique view of what you witnessed and thousands of people around the world rely on those decisions to make their own opinions on the story. It’s a good job I don’t freak out easily as combined with the Derren Brown post last week, I’d be a gibbering wreck by now..

Politics and current affairs is always a perfect example of getting to be in a position of real access. It was bizarre to read reports of Benazir Bhutto a few weeks after a press conference in London and was actually the first person that I’d ever taken photographs of that had died. It left me feeling quite odd to be editing someone one day and reading their obituary a short while later. It must have been quite shocking for John Moore who actually covered her assassination. Again, an example of being there to witness historical events first-hand.

I was discussing this with a member of the Downing Street press office a while ago during a job in the Houses of Parliament. It was a perfect example of the exclusive but bizarre access that this job can give you. As is often the case, the job itself wasn’t too exciting, being a grip and grin (AKA “shaky-shaky”, formal handshake) with Gordon Brown and some Scottish footballer but the situation resulted in me being stood in the Prime Minister’s office, waiting for him to arrive, looking at the banana skin and empty tea cup on his desk. In any other situation, that may well be the most uninteresting thing to write about but when you’re stood at Golden Brown’s desk, watching him speaking downstairs at PMQs (Prime Minister’s Questions) on the internal cctv, it’s one of those moments where you wonder how you got to be paid to do this for a job.

Anyway, as I was chatting to the press officer, it made me realise what a perfect balance you get when you’re a press photographer. If my job saw me turning up to the same place on a daily basis, however interesting or exclusive, I’d end up jaded by the experience and soon I’d be failing to appreciate how lucky I was. Getting brief snippets of so many people’s lives and environments is such a privilege

A good example of this was one of my first jobs when I came down to London for my placement at The Times. I was sent to cover the fact that the British Library had just digitised Leonardo da Vinci’s Codex Arundel. To illustrate the story, the library projected the scanned and interactive images onto a white board and had brought the original codecs out of the vaults. In an experience completely wasted on an uneducated Northern Monkey such as myself, I then had the chance to shoot the original documents, turning the pages and browsing the actual notebook that contained sketches of da Vinci’s plans, mechanics and studies of bird flight, all written in his unique mirror-writing. Knowing that Bill Gates had purchased other pages like these for $30.8Million certainly made my already-careful page handling that little bit more delicate..

As commentators talk about the impending death of the newspaper and news photography industry as we know it due to video and online input, I hope that however it all turns out, there’ll still be a security pass waiting for me to get in to see that banana skin.

(AKA in at the deep end..)

This weekend saw a return trip to my old home turf of Sheffield as I covered the 2nd FINA Diving World Series at Ponds Forge sports centre. It seems the chlorine gas exposure and relentless week-long shooting of the Manchester FINA shortcourse championships wasn’t quite enough to kill me off so my Picture Editor sent me up here. His decision could well have been based on the fact that I could sleep at my folks house and save AFP the money for a hotel too, of course. *cough*

As is the way with the media, one of my two missions for the weekend (the other being shoot anything Chinese, whether man, woman, child or neutral..) was to fill my cards with images of Tom Daley , England’s current obsession in a Henman-esque way. Whenever any sportsperson shows a brief glimmer of talent, the media leaps on them, declaring that the Messiah has returned, and this time He’s in Sports Mode..

Not taking anything away from Tom or indeed his equally talented team-mate Blake Aldridge as their sychro dives produced the only 10 of the session, leading to England’s only gold medal of the day.

It’s just clear how frustrating it must be for both the other hopefuls and the sporting media that actually know about this kind of thing. News editors want the lowdown on who to support and push and once they latch on a name, they’re gripped with both hands until they either win in a blaze of glory (Steve Redgrave) or retire after a successful career that never quite reached the top so therefore must be a failure (Tim Henman). On a positive note, I have to say that from my brief few minutes with Tom, he seems like a top chap and I really do hope that he can handle the pressure and go on to become everything that he’s capable of.

Anyway, after my previous experiences of aqua-based photophun shortcourse champs in Manchester where I had the absolute pleasure of trying out the Nikon D3 system for the duration of the event, it was back to my ageing mk2n bodies and some generous noise ninja application. Shooting in these places is a real battle against noise and motion with ISO settings of between 1250 and 1600 on f2.8 while trying to freeze someone who’s flying through the air at rapid speeds.. Apparently mk3 bodies are on the way but all I’m hearing daily is complaints from current users who would rather use their old mk2n bodies. Getting new toys should be a thing to look forward to, not feel concerned about..

Fingers crossed that all of the problems with the current Canon mk3 series will be fixed by the time I head to Austria for the EURO 2008 semi-finals.. *looks dubious*

In late April 2008, I got the chance to travel around West Africa with the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Ban Ki-moon. Visiting Ghana, Liberia, Burkina Faso and Cote d’Ivoire, the trip was a chance for “Spanky” and his wife to check out the work being done in some of the previously-unstable countries in the region.

First stop; Accra and the beginning of a week-long theme of brass bands and honour-guards. There was an old joke that the Queen must think that the world smells of paint as, 10 feet ahead of her, there’s always some guy putting a new lick of Dulux on the walls. The same applies to the SG (Secretary-General) with brass bands and blokes stood in straight lines.

After the soon-to-be obligatory inspection of the troops, we headed into the Capital. The main reason for the visit here was to attend the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) which was as just as exciting as it soundzzz so I managed to blag a lift to the Mary Louise Children’s Hospital with the First Lady to see how the country’s health care was improving. It’s incredible to think that what we saw was a step forward but it demonstrates how far the country must have come if it was a matter of pride to show off the wards, complete with broken light fittings, padlocked televisions and smashed windows. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing but respect for the people that have devoted all of their efforts to setting up the hospital but without a reference point for a before-and-after, I couldn’t imagine what life must have been like if this is an improvement.

Next on the tour was Liberia and potentially the most unstable country. The drive from the airport is one of those moments that I will talk about soon in another post where you really are in such a uniquely privileged position, it’s hard to believe that someone’s paying you to do it. As our convoy of Police outriders and UN jeeps makes the 35-mile journey from the airport to the UN HQ, every single car, bike, pedestrian and piece of tumbleweed is cleared from the roads. This was probably enforced as soon as we landed resulting in a half-hour drive along mile after mile of road, lined with local residents, bemused onlookers and people just trying to get home after a hard day. The reason for the strict controls is made clear later as the last time our UN press officer had been here, the locals were often sleeping with the corpses in graves in the cemetery in a bid to find somewhere that offered protection from the uncontrolled gangs that patrolled the streets at night. During our stay, it soon becomes clear how screwed up the country must have been when most of the official speeches include at least one reference to rape and sexual assault, reminding the assembled public and media that it’s not the done thing. Thankfully, the message seems to be hitting home and a trip to the Waterside markets showed a relaxed and friendly population, despite the horrors of previous years.

One of the highlights of the tour of Liberia had to be a field visit to a UN military station for the FPU-INDIA UNMIL Police, an armed UN police unit comprising mainly of women. The unit, made up of over 100 female officers with 20 male supporting staff, is the first largely female FPU to be deployed to a United Nations peacekeeping operation and, as such, gets a lot of media attention.

In a world of sexual equality, it’s quite strange to see this taken to it’s conclusion as these officers serve for months at a time, away from their husbands and children back in India.

As the time comes to leave, Liberia has one last surprise for me in the form of my first ever helicopter flight. Looking at the ex-Russian Cold War military helicopter for the first time, I realise that it could also be my last but thankfully all goes well and after a stunning trip over the wild terrain and forests, we land at the airport, ready for the next leg aboard UN001..

Next stop, Burkina Faso and the scene of some VICIOUS food poisoning. Anyway, as I’m guessing that anyone reading this is more interested in either photography or current affairs rather than my health, I’ll get back to the point..

The regular format of arrival is adhered to, complete with brass band, honour guard, bouquets, steamed-up lenses, running through the VIP area into a car-park full of chaos, jumping into a random van, dashing through the city, running into various Government buildings to get a 3 second grip-and-grin photo, running back to van before heading on to the next handshake, all while trying to set up and send pictures to Paris on a temperamental satellite phone..

By this point in the trip, as you may have gathered, I can’t face any more handshakes in beige rooms with unidentified ministers so do everything I can to actually get to see something worthwhile. Thankfully, the UN press office can see that I’m a day away from standing in a clock tower, naked, with a high-power rifle so a few trips are arranged.

The first visit is into proper “ForeignLand”. That’s the only way I can describe it. Imagine those clips from charity programmes and benefit videos that are filmed in dust-bowl villages in the middle of the African desert. After a 75km drive out of Ougadougou, I find myself in the village of Poa.

Seen as a shining example of what a poor village can do for itself if proper training is provided, the female residents had invested in a single diesel engine that could be used in a huge variety of ways. Food and grain could be crushed and processed, it can provide light and electricity but most of all, independence from government and charity handouts. Inspiring stuff.

Next up was a visit to Manegda Primary School in Ougadougou. With my old school in Sheffield “cramming” 25 into a classroom, it was amazing to see up to 70 kids filling these simple rooms, soaking up any scrap of information that was given to them by the teacher. If I was to walk into a classroom in the UK with a camera, all hell would break loose as attention spans shattered and play began. However, here in Burkina Faso, within 30 seconds of walking in, the kids were sat in silence again, scribbling with their tiny splinters of coloured chalk onto their slate boards.

Finally, we hit the Cote d’Ivoire and this place will forever possess a part of me. Well, possibly quite a few parts of me unfortunately due to most of my body-weight being forced out of me through various routes due to the chronic food poisoning taking a further grip on my body. Chicken in an olive and tomato stew from the Hotel Joly in Ougadougou. Just the thought of it is enough to give me flashbacks. Anyway, back to the trip..

All seems as normal but this arrival has the addition of the most aggressive press pack I’ve ever seen. The SG’s personal security detail start showing signs of concern as, during the flight, I’d already had a discussion about how it’s known that terrorist groups would love to carry out some kind of headline-grabbing action here and as we made our way across the tarmac, the unsupervised photographers were physically pressing against the boss. Much shouting, pushing and swearing finally got him through and we could continue out of the airport.

With my guts still a complete warzone, I managed to shoot for a few hours in the morning then headed back to the hotel where I proceeded to pass out for 16 hours, broken only by shivering, sweating and all-round nastiness. Remember these words, people; Chicken in an olive and tomato stew from the Hotel Joly in Ougadougou..

With the trip drawing to a close, I manage to break away from official delegation again and follow the First Lady to an orphanage that proved fantastic until the orphanage manager informs me that I wasn’t allowed to show any children of any age in the photos due to their privacy policy. I think he can guess how frustrated I am as he then proceeds to follow me around the rest of the tour, making sure I understand his reasons. In the end, I hang my cameras up and go and sit outside. At this point, he tells me that he’ll happily allow me to take pictures as souvenirs. My expression lets him know that his suggestion isn’t the best I’ve ever heard. Thankfully, if I can’t get a shot, at least a Brazilian journalist I was travelling with could get on of me at work with Mrs. Ban before I had to down tools..

The day finishes with a trip to a Jordanian UN camp where we see a variety of demonstrations that start off with riot control through to the rather dubious “how to assassinate a sleeping guard”. United Nations stealth dagger techniques aren’t quite what we were expecting before lunch but the look of bemusement/discomfort on the visiting delegation’s faces is a picture..

With the official tour now completed, the 18 hour journey home begins. Jobs like these are a reasonable rarity for me, having only done one similar thing before when Tony Blair did his last trip to Africa but they really do a fantastic job of refreshing the creative batteries. Where daily life in London is a varied and exciting thing, it is also all in London. Shooting new people, places and situations really does give you a massive kick and gives you momentum for the months ahead.

Roll on the next one..

So here’s a weird one..

Last night, I settled down in front of the tv with my girlfriend and decided to watch a recent Derren Brown “Trick or Treat” (Season 2, episode 3 for those who want to watch it..) Tonight’s guest was David Tennant, the current Dr. Who, and after randomly choosing to get a treat, Derren decided to let him see both the past and the future. Stick with me if you have no idea where this is going..

For his journey into the future, Tennant was placed into a hypnotic state and was made to experiment with “automatic writing”, a technique where supposedly the brain can be thinking of other things and holding a conversation while the hand writes words onto a piece of paper.

After scribbling for a while, Tennant was told to take the paper home with him in a sealed envelope and return four days later with the latest copy of the Guardian newspaper. When they met and before opening the paper, they opened the letter and started to look through the scribbled writing for any words that they could recognise.

By now a story had started to appear with words like “will sue”, “online”, “scrabble” and “tile” and my mind started to get a little twitch as I remembered that I’d covered this story around the time that the programme was filmed in January. When the word “wife” came up, I started to feel rather concerned..

When Tennant was then asked to open the paper, there on page 3, was my photograph of one of my facebook scrabulous games.

Not only that, but the “wife” in question was from the actual game itself and had been one of the moves (in a particularly low-scoring game) that I had made.

I’ve had a few moments in my life that have made my jaw drop but the fact that the only reason that I’d shot the picture was that I was on the picture desk at AFP for the day and was feeling a little restless so had browsed the internet for anything odd. On some technology page, I’d seen the first reports of the fact that Mattel were taking legal action against the guys that had created the online version of the game so had taken a picture of one of my current games on my laptop. The text desk decided it was quite a quirky story so wrote the words to go with the photo and put it out on the wire.

For the picture to then end up being used in a psychic experiment on tv with my random choice of word being one of the keywords has just made my brain collapse..

When I started out in London, I used to return to Sheffield at the weekend and when I caught up with friends, one of the first questions was always “who’ve you been shooting recently?” After a while, I realised that often the smaller stories proved to be the most rewarding but all people want to hear about is those goddam celebrity types.

While it’s easy to say that you shot Johnny Depp or Victoria Beckham the other day, the truth is that to get that one picture, it involved turning up three hours earlier with your stepladders to begin the long wait. About 45 minutes before the Sleb de Jour turns up, all of the press cards are thrown into a bag and are drawn out to decide who actually gets to enter the penned area first. At this point, the full-time entertainment photographers start to gnash their teeth as the only way for those guys to get money is to be front row, centre. That way, they can get their full-length, half-length and headshots of the j-listers for next day’s Daily Star while using their special laptop clamps on the metal barriers. For people like myself who don’t need the eyeline right down the barrel of the lens in order to get my rent paid, it always makes life easier to go towards the back and play around with other people’s flashfire, ambient light and wideshots.

Anyway, the point being, by the time famous person X turns up, you get maybe 20 seconds as the assembled entertainment guys scream for a second of eye contact, PR people do their best to get in the way and the subject of all the attention looks around, bored.

Basically, the “cool” jobs often suck. My personal faves are the jobs where you either get unique access to a private location or you get to spend time with somebody that you actually find interesting. Unfortunately, telling someone that you shot a family of Kosovan refugees who may be deported in their home in East London isn’t QUITE the same conversational trigger that a mention of Pete Doherty can be..

In a move that MAY spell the end of the new sport of giggling at the email attackers, it’s time for a burst of News of the World-stylee “Name & Shame”. Well not quite as I’ll do the honourable thing and hide the names but here’s a selection of emails I’ve had regarding the horse picture here

message: I myself are a horse lover and do not appreicate the picture of a dead horse that was stabbed and choked to death. In my vision you all should be arrested!
Now, what if some little 5 year old kid had a horse and it ran away or was killed would you want them to think that you stole their horse and killed it? “Come On” grow up! You may think it is funny and fun to do but I for one will not stand for this I may be a kid but, I still have feelings and rights.

Sincerely,
JH

*****

message: please explain why there is a photo of a horse dead in the street
with a stake and sign stabbed through is stomach?! i am absolutley disgusted
as a horse owner and lover (they are stunning creatures) i am affended and its
brought back nightmares about when i walked out the back door at my farm to
find my best friend (my horse) dead on the ground. i demand that you remove
this photo from your site.

stc

*****

You Sick Sick Person

a

*****

subject – UR STUPID

message: WHY WOULD YOU KILL A HORSE AND STICK A SIGN IN ITS SIDE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU STUPID IDIOT

e

*****

message: why do you do this crap people love horses like me and my sister.We had two horses but one died because he was old and could not get up.When you keep killing horses then someday they will come extinct

s

*****

message: why did you kill that horse???????????? you had no right to kill that horse just because they banned hunting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hunting isnt even right no dont do that again

t

*****

message: i think this is utterly disgusting and i cant understanyd why you would want to put a dead horse in the middle of a street

lf

*****

message: I have no idea who you are but i think you are a disgrace to human kind. I am 15 years old and in school researching for a speech on horses. I was horrified to see this picture, there is no reason why it should be on the internet. The ban on was hunting was ages ago so get over it!!!!!!!!!!!!

j

*****

Now, I appreciate that many of these will be from 12 year-old pony owning girls but this next communication came from a woman who works in some legal office in Australia. Thought I’d put my responses in too to show how they often go.

message: THE PHOTO OF THE MURDERED HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD IS DISGUSTING AND SHOULD NOT BE GLORIFED ON ANY WEB SITE, THE PEOPLE WHO DID THIS SHOULD BE IMPALED THEMSELVES!!! THIS BEAUTIFUL CREATURE DOES NOT DESERVE THIS TREATMENT NOT EVEN IN DEATH!!! TAKE IT OFF YOUR WEBSITE, THIS SHOULD NOT BE CONDONED

CW

No.

That was very big of you. NO. You are obviously condoning cruelty to
animals. For this you should not be supported I will ensure no one in my
group of friends will support you in any way. This is just as wrong as if
you had done it yourself!!!

CW

(At this point, I sent her the standard response that I included on the other page.)

Then maybe you should make it clear that you don’t condone this behaviour
and maybe you won’t get so many emails of disgust,… ever thought of that?
People don’t just get mad with cruelty to animals because of a pictures it
is the lack of script to go along with it. AWA does not get emails because
they have pictures of abused animals on their site because they have script
explaining what is going on.

CW

That’s a very lame justification for your misdirected criticism. As I said in my previous mail, there is just as much caption information on all of my pictures and yet no-one thinks that I designed the dresses at fashion shows or told Bono to stand a certain way during a concert. For some reason, a small percentage of the visitors to my site view the picture and seem to lose all ability to think logically. It may prove easier for you if I’d written in nice, big colourful capital letters; “IN CASE YOU HADN’T REALISED, THIS IS NOT A PICTURE OF A HOBBY OF MINE. IT, LIKE ALL OF THE OTHERS, IS JUST AN EVENT THAT I COVERED DURING MY DAY-TO-DAY JOB. PLEASE TRY TO USE SOME RATIONAL THOUGHT AND SEPARATE ANY CONCLUSIONS YOU MAY JUMP TO FROM THE EVIDENCE ALL OVER MY SITE THAT POINTS TO THE FACT THAT I DON”T KILL HORSES IN MY SPARE TIME”

I wonder whether the photographers who cover famines in Africa with dying children or conflict with badly injured civilians in hospital have to write a similar thing below all of their images JUST in case someone thinks that they might be running a site that promotes the idea..

(radio silence since that one..)

*****

Thankfully, I also get messages from other nutters too..

message: wow what a cute little boy.BUT i was wondiring who this is and u could just tell me some facts about u if u wanted too.and then i can tell u some facts about me…i’m very pretty,I am a teacher and what i teach is 5th grade!!!

m

*****

message: the UK is boring And it sucks there. been there twice. you are all out of control. and you will all get worse. have fun on that gigantic island of misery, rain, and suffering. Keep sending the troops!

Damn,
M

I hope that this shows you the dangers of being a photographer. Never mind the flying bullets and petrol bombs; THIS is the stuff that gives you post-traumatic stress disorders..

L

No, not of the sexual kind (although sometimes, I do wonder..) The passion I’m talking about is the love of horses.

In my line of work of press photographer, I face a wide variety of subjects, stories and people on a daily basis. This is one of the main reasons why I love the job so much but, as you would expect, sometimes you shoot happy stories and sometimes you cover the darker sides of life.

Now some time ago, I went to Brighton to cover the annual Labour Party Conference. Normally a mixture of dry speeches and photo-calls mixed with the occasional bit of interest, the 2004 conference proved no different with lots of Blair-based handshakes and the odd “down with this sort of thing” placard-waving protestor.

However, that changed when the pro-fox hunt groups galloped into town and decided to do this..

Now as it happened, I was shooting for The Times newspaper that day and was the only press photographer who got the shot which is a shame as The Times used it once, buried in a supplement and it’s never been printed since but that’s a separate story.

The pro-hunt group pulled up in a busy shopping street, opened the rear doors of their van, tied a rope to a lamp post then edged the van away, dragging the corpse onto the road. A man got out of the van and wedged the placard through the horses ribcage and drove off. The ensuing upset saw pro-hunt supporters (to rear of frame) smiling and clapping with local residents looking on shocked and disturbed with a group of girls near me, crying uncontrollably.

Fast forward a few years and I STILL get a very regular stream of angry people contacting me to tell me that I am, in fact, Satan’s more evil brother. This happens on such a regular basis that I have a standard response in a folder that I copy and paste into my replies;

I’m consistently astounded and disappointed by people thinking that they
have the right to order me to remove pictures from my site.

“Journalist”: a person who practices journalism, the gathering and
dissemination of information about current events, trends, issues and
people.

Why is it only the animal lovers that seem to fail to grasp this idea? I’ve
also photographed fashion shows but never get emails from clothes lovers
asking how I designed the dresses. I’ve shot football matches but don’t get
emails from fans asking me how I scored the goal. For some reason, I get a
reasonably regular flow of misdirected diatribe from horse lovers thinking
that for some reason I personally decided to kill a horse. If you got this
email address, surely you read the rest of my site and looked at the other
images to see that I am a news photographer so take pictures of the news,
whatever it may be?

The news is all about raising awareness of issues that can range from
light-hearted nonsense to the darker aspects of life and death. To think
that things that upset you should be removed from public view is very
narrow-minded and would result in actions and events that you disagree with
happening without your knowledge, therefore denying you a chance to voice
your opinion and fight for your rights. Would you be happier if your daily
newspaper only featured photographs of happiness and rainbows or do you
actually find current affairs and events stimulating to conversations and
opinion?

If someone takes a photo of a dead animal, is that automatically condoning it’s death or
is it allowing human beings to display the intelligence that they are born
with and make their own decision? Your blinkered vision of right and wrong
and how to go about highlighting your cause is decidedly naïve.

So, in response to your demand for me to remove the image, the answer is no.
This will undoubtedly lead to a continued flow of venomous
emails from people such as yourself but I believe that life and opinion should always
remain balanced.

I hope that next time you feel like sending an aggressive email such as the
ones that I received from you, you carefully check your details and facts
first to make sure you’re abusing the right person.

I’m still trying to decide if I should publish these rambling threats and abuse on this blog. A consistent theme of too many exclamation marks, a personal insult followed by a demand for the pictures destruction/removal provide quite a nice theme to them. Almost poetic. If anyone reads this and wants to see some of it, let me know and I’ll post a few here. If anyone reads this and wants to tell me how cruel I am and ask me why I killed a horse, you know where to find me.

L