On the 16th of July, word began to get through of the death of former Times colleague and friend Richard Mills. He died on the 14th of July 2008 while on assignment in Zimbabwe. Due to the delicate situation involved with getting Richard out of the country, news of his death was held until this had been achieved. The day before I found out, I’d been asked by a friend how many people I knew had died in my life and I was pleasantly surprised to find that I couldn’t really name any. Richard’s death has come as a real shock.

When I started working for The Times in 2003, Richard was one of the first photographers that I was placed with. It was through him that I learnt how to approach strangers and get them to pose for pictures without complaint but purely through confidence, politeness and, in his case, that gift of the gab. It was also Richard who rang me from Iraq on his Sat Phone to congratulate me when I had some good news despite being warned of the dangers of using it due to enemy detection, never mind the £50 a minute charges at the time. When covering a story about an intensive care unit for newborn babies, I was taught a big lesson through his sensitive coverage of the subject. While I tried to be clever and prove myself, his simple and personal shot of a baby’s grasping hand held the the page of the following day’s paper with more power than any of my efforts.

A former RAF man, Richard covered foreign dangerous assignments for The Times newspaper in Iraq, Afghanistan and Zimbabwe and was rarely on home turf. His recent work from Zimbabwe saw him travelling the country with journalist Martin Fletcher using a variety of covers. Strict media laws in the country carry a 2 year prison sentence for anyone reporting on the state of the country so both Mills and Fletcher had to travel as tourists, priests, chemical salesmen and aid workers at various times to avoid capture by the Government officials who were never far behind. Regularly witnessing the unavoidable horror of warfare, Richard talked to me once of his real desire to avoid the route of so many combat photographers as they forget about the human cost and emotions of war. While it’s easy to create shocking images of burning bodies that will appeal to the voyeur, it takes maturity to appreciate that the body in the Iraq mortuary is somebody’s son. A massive amount can be said without showing the bleeding wounds.

The above images are from Richard’s winning entry from the second annual spider black and white photography awards and from his honourable mentions from the Picture Editor’s Awards.

He leaves behind his wife and five year old son.

More information on Richard’s life and work can be found here and here

A gallery of his work with The Times can be found here