The language used to speak about climate change is often in the future tense – predictions, forecasts, thresholds, targets – but as anyone currently melting in Western Europe knows, the effects are already present, already domestic, and already an uncomfortable part of everyday life.

This won’t be news to residents of Kolkata, where the annual monsoon rains have been growing more intense, fuelled by the warmer air above the Bay of Bengal, increasing the chances of flash floods.

Nor will it be news to the residents of the Thai village of Ban Khun Samut Chin, who saw their once-prosperous coastal town disappear into the sea at a rate of up to 30 metres per year. The only evidence of their homes and businesses, which now lie beneath the waves, is a lonely line of telegraph poles.

People adapt. The residents of Kolkata have, to a degree, learned to accommodate the increased flooding. Those in Ban Khun Samut Chin organised a “managed retreat”, to new homes further inland. Both responses buy time – but no more than that.

Photography, at least, is always done in the present tense. That’s precisely why projects like Gideon Mendel’s Flood & Fire – which I introduce below – are so important. The images alone can’t effect change, but they can provide evidence and impetus to bring the conversation into the here and now.

Les Rencontres de la Photographie Dummy Book Award 2026

Each year, the creator of an unpublished photographic ‘dummy’ book receives a production grant of €25,000 from the Rencontres d’Arles Photo Festival, in partnership with the LUMA Foundation.

This year’s ten finalists, selected from more than 250 submissions, were announced last week. I’ll be in Arles next month for the festival and the announcement of the winner at the prize-giving ceremony.

In upcoming newsletters, I’ll be highlighting some of the shortlisted entries. The variety of subjects is as diverse as you might imagine.

Last year, Nata Drachinskaya won the award for her book Binom, which documents the discovery of her father’s secret life as a KGB cryptographer.

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Submerged Portraits by Gideon Mendel

Gideon’s book Flood & Fire combines work documenting the consequences of climate change, in particular the devastating impact of flash floods and wildfires.

“My subjects have taken the time – in a situation of great distress – to engage with the camera, looking out at us from their inundated homes and devastated environments. They are not disempowered victims in this exchange, they show agency amidst the calamity that has befallen them.”

– Gideon Mendel

“As we experience extreme weather events, driven by climate change, we also see ever-more aggressive denialism (often espoused by populist leaders); a global political system incapable of taking meaningful action; and petro-carbon corporations that are resistant to adopting the most minor measure to reduce carbon emissions.”

– Gideon Mendel

“I don’t want to portray any of the people I photograph as victims. I think it’s about approaching situations with confidence and compassion and in these kinds of situations, where people have been traumatised by their experiences, it’s very important for me that the experience of being photographed is a good one for them. The heart of good portraiture is the person you are in relation to your subjects.”

– Gideon Mendel

Submerged Portraits is one part of the Flood & Fire project, which can be seen in full on Gideon Mendel’s website.

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The Wider Angle

Thank you to Beyond the Frame readers Christine, Norman and Gillian for sharing these stories related to themes in previous newsletters.

Time is Money by Alexey Yurenev

This is such a clever idea, based on an understanding that our relative visibility in society is related to our income. Alexey asks the question, “At what point does a worker become invisible?”

“I travelled across New York City and asked people of different professions how long it takes them to earn one dollar. I then used their responses to calculate the exposure time for their respective portraits.”

– Alexey Yurenev

“The results make visually explicit the class delineations between individuals of different occupational statuses, and query how much money someone must earn to become visible.” – Alexey Yurenev

I wondered what exposure time a similar portrait of the world’s first trillionaire would require. The fastest commercial cameras are far too slow at just 1/8000th of a second. An exposure time of 0.0000345 seconds would be required. But without a lens capable of capturing sufficient light in that time, Elon Musk wouldn’t appear at all.

Time is Money by Alexey Yurenev

We Were Once Alive

In the 1980s, a Swedish library curator discovered 8,000 photographic glass plates in a basement. The photographs, showing portraits of residents of the rural province of Uppland, were made by self-taught photographer John Alinder between 1910 and 1932.

Often they are looking straight into the camera. As if they can see us. As if their gaze can travel the hundred years or so that lie between their time and ours. As if they were saying, “You are alive now, but we were once alive.”

Alinder lived in the same Swedish village all his life. He ran a shop – and an illicit bar – and photographed his friends and neighbours in their gardens and in the landscape around the village.

Alinder developed the glass plate photographs in a home darkroom. Prints were made by resting the plates on light-sensitive paper and allowing sunlight to expose the images, which makes the highlights glow (see the tablecloth and white window frame in the photo above.)

The plates are well over 100 years old and had lain forgotten for over 60 years, yet they’ve not been diminished by time. The clarity in those expressions allows us to look directly into the eyes of people from another time as if they had been photographed yesterday.

As I wrote in Beyond the Frame 100, and as demonstrated by John Alinder’s luminous portraits, the value of our artistic endeavours is not decided at the time of creation, it is endowed by time and by the people who might discover it in the future.

We make art in order to remember. And in that act, we build a vessel for other people’s memories.

John Alinder’s portraits are collected in a book published by Dewi Lewis and are featured in an article in the Guardian.

Joel Meyerowitz at the Huxley-Parlour Gallery

A carefully curated collection of images from Meyerowitz’s six-decade career is currently on show at the Huxley-Parlour Gallery in London. The exhibition is open until 7 July 2026.

Joel Meyerowitz in conversation with Giles Huxley-Parlour. Most interesting to me is his account of how a photograph can remind him not only of the scene it records, but of who he was when he made it. Joel also, almost inevitably, speaks about the importance of Kodachrome to his work.

Refer a friend

And finally…

Returned to me this week: two SX-70 Polaroid cameras, repaired and refurbished by my friends at MiNT in Hong Kong.

The cameras date from the early 1970s but can still produce a decent instant photo. I will make some test prints when the temperature cools down. This week has been relentlessly outside the range for Polaroid film (>28ºC).

I was interested in the technique of separating and lifting the emulsion, if only to see an image dancing around in the water.

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing this week, I hope you’re keeping your cool.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

It probably hasn’t escaped your attention that this is the 100th edition of Beyond the Frame. I published the first edition, Beyond the Frame 1/, exactly two years ago today.

Firstly, and most importantly, a heartfelt thank you to you, the readers. It’s possible that I would keep writing even if nobody was reading. I’m contrary like that. But knowing the newsletter is read in 93 countries does make it more worthwhile still.

And a special thanks to you if you’re a paid subscriber. Your support makes the newsletter possible.

I’ve written more about the 100th newsletter and shared the manifesto I wrote for myself before I began. You can find it in the Wider Angle section below.

In this 100th edition, I’m thinking about the connection between photography and memory. Photographs record moments, frame fractions of a second, we all know this. But this simple definition underestimates a photograph’s power to endure.

A photograph infuses frozen moments with a second life. A life that might outlast the photographer. A photograph has the potential to carry a memory forward to people we may never meet. This week, I’ve looked at photographs made decades ago by photographers who might never have imagined that I’d be sharing their work with you, many years after the images were made. Their photos are tiny, time-travelling pulses, still beating, still carrying a declaration from the people inside the frame: “I was here.”

A Memory in the Making

It’s late afternoon at Angkor Wat in Cambodia. The tourist coaches have long since departed, taking their sightseeing guests to lunch in the nearby town of Siem Reap. The temple settles into silence with a sigh.

I’m standing in an open gallery at the western end of the temple, waiting for the sinking sun to shine into the cloisters. The only other people here are four Cambodian youngsters, dressed in traditional Khmer folk costumes, sitting on the ground after a morning spent posing for tourist photos. Hanuman, the leaping monkey god, has removed his mask and is eating sunflower seeds. Sitting cross-legged beside him are Sovann Maccha, the golden mermaid, and Yeak, a masked demon. Still standing, so as to avoid creasing his emerald feather tail, is Kngaok, the peacock.

I ask if they’ve had a profitable morning. With wide smiles, they confirm their efforts have been well-rewarded. I ask if they’d be willing to pose for more photos. Hanuman throws a last handful of seeds into his mouth, dons his monkey mask and leaps to his feet.

The youngsters are willing collaborators. We use the ancient temple architecture as a backdrop. Unlit corners offer contrast against Hanuman’s white costume. The sun is painting stripes of light onto the walls of a long corridor where the peacock is looking wistfully towards the sky.

They seem pleased to be leaping and dancing for the camera. It’s a change from their usual routine. Mostly they stand still whilst a queue of tourists take turns to be photographed beside them.

They tease each other as we choreograph each pose. Pretty soon they grasp what we’re doing and whilst one of them is being photographed, the others run off in search of other atmospheric locations, their laughter echoes back to me around the temple walls.

They point out etchings that depict Apsara dancers, from the same folklore as their own masked characters. They try my cameras on each other, mimicking and exaggerating my mannerisms as they direct one another towards the fading pools of light.

This is not how I’d planned to spend the afternoon. My carefully curated shot list of photos destined for a waiting picture editor remains unfulfilled. I will have to return to Angkor Wat before dawn the following day. It’s not a hardship.

Serendipity, the patient photographer’s loyal ally, has delivered a memory that surpasses my shot list. The images we made together can’t hold the sound of their laughter or the texture of the temple walls or the way the sunlight moved across the courtyards, but the pictures are a key that unlocks my memory of that afternoon.

I made the photos because that’s what I do. Perhaps that’s sufficient. But if you really pushed me for more, I’d tell you that I make photos because places like this, and people like these, are extraordinary. I make the photos in order to remember. The photos say, “I was here and I saw this. Isn’t it amazing?” Perhaps one day, long after I’ve gone, somebody will rediscover the pictures and see them anew, framed within the context of their own lives. I like to think so.

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The Melancholy Nostalgia of Remembered Childhood

In the summer of 2024, composer Ludovico Einaudi rented a villa on the island of Elba. The property had been owned by a family in the 1950s. The mother painted a new picture every year, showing views from the house. Einaudi has described his reaction to the paintings.

“I started to imagine the family, their life, how they looked, and I began to connect this with my own summers… a time when my life was deeply connected with all my senses, where the days felt like months and the months like years, and I was free from morning to night, and every day was a new discovery.”

Einaudi’s remembered summers arrived as a muse, drawing him towards new musical compositions. The results are collected in The Summer Portraits, an album of melancholy nostalgia for his sun-drenched, sepia-toned memories of childhood.

“The older I get, the more my emotions are connected to those summers. I have been watching old footage… I’ve met up with friends from so long ago, sharing photos and stories.”

The Einaudi family’s home footage, showing the composer, now 70, as a seven-year-old boy, was used for the video of Rose Bay, the album’s opening track.

You might also enjoy The Summer Portraits Live album, recorded at the Royal Albert Hall in London. I think the live album is even better than the original studio recording.

Refer a friend

British Journal of Photography Annual 1967

It’s Saturday morning. I’m sitting at our dining table, listening to Ludovico Einaudi’s Summer Portraits, reading the most recent edition of the world’s oldest photography title, the British Journal of Photography.

Mrs G is grinning as she walks into the room.

“Would you like your birthday present?”

My birthday is weeks away, but she’s as bad at holding on to a surprise as I am at resisting one.

“Of course!”

Somehow, she has managed to track down a 1967 edition of the BJP annual. I am delighted.

(Yes, 1967 was an excellent year. To misquote Oliver Sacks, when I was 11, I could say ‘I am sodium’ – Element 11, and now, at 59, I am praseodymium – Element 59. Praseodymium is a rare-earth metal. It is soft and silvery, valued for its magnetic properties. The parallels are uncanny. Praseodymium is also unstable and develops a green oxide coating when exposed to air – but I’m rejecting those characteristics.)

I make a coffee, open the annual, and spend the next two hours travelling back in time, immersed in the stories and images that defined 1967. Those were two hours well spent.

Photo Essays

The BJP Annual includes a feature commemorating the life and work of Dorothea Lange, showing not only her most famous “Migrant Mother” picture but also several photos that I’ve not seen before.

A dozen pages are devoted to pictures of Grand Prix made by Swiss photographer Fred Mayer. The introductory text describes the 1,000mm telephoto lens Mayer used to photograph the action at Silverstone.

I was intrigued by a collection of portraits of famous photographers made by Beaumont Newhall, director of the George Eastman Museum in Rochester, New York. Like me, you might be familiar with photos and video footage of Henri Cartier-Bresson in his later years. I would not have recognised him, aged 38 in this portrait, without the caption.

There are also portraits of Ansel Adams and Bill Brandt, smiling at us from across the years.

There’s a collection of Horst Faas’s photographs from the Vietnam War. Faas was Photo Editor for Associated Press in Saigon when Nick Ut submitted his famous Terror of War photograph. I’ve written about Nick Ut’s photo – often referred to as The Napalm Girl – in Beyond the Frame 54/. It was Faas’s decision to place Nick’s photo on the wire service, ensuring that it was published around the world – an act that arguably hardened anti-war sentiment in the United States.

Another section shows sporting photographs, including one that would go on to become one of the defining images of Muhammad Ali’s career. Made by photographer John Rooney, the picture shows Ali standing over Sonny Liston. The image won the World Press Photo Sports category in 1965.

Looking through the BJP Annual, with Einaudi’s hypnotic piano chords playing in the background, led me into a reverie. Who are the people in these pictures? What happened to them after the photo was made? What were their lives like? How might they have felt, knowing that somebody would still be looking at their image in another century – another millennium? I was not even born when these pictures were made.

I wonder about the mother and child photographed in a New Orleans slum. I wonder about their lives beyond the cracked glass. I wonder about the fate of the homeless man. The caption reads, “He seemed more than merely a subject for photography. He seemed, instead, to make a wordless demand for the observer to attempt to grasp the meaning of a broken life.” Sixty years on and I am the observer. The power of his wordless demand has not been diminished by the intervening years.

The people inside the frames are probably gone but the photographs carried them all the way to my dining table on a sunny Saturday morning decades later.

In the very first edition of Beyond the Frame, I posed a question: Why do we make art and how do we decide what value to attach to artistic endeavours?

The simple response I gave then was offered by another musician, Tracey Thorn.

“I suppose the answer is the same as it ever was: that some of us simply feel compelled. Which has always been the only good reason to make art.”

After 100 editions of Beyond the Frame, I’m edging closer to an evolution of Tracey’s definition.

We make art in order to remember. And in that act, we build a vessel for other people’s memories.

Paintings on a villa wall in Elba were made in order to cement family memories. Those same paintings sparked Ludovico Einaudi’s childhood reflections, which flowered into musical compositions that make me nostalgic for my own childhood summers. Fred Mayer’s Grand Prix photos have me reminiscing about days with friends at Silverstone and Goodwood. Newhall’s portraits of photographers prompt me to wonder what somebody might think of my own portrait decades after I’ve gone.

The value of our artistic endeavours isn’t decided today, it’s endowed by time and by the people who might discover it inside an unexpected birthday gift in 60 years.

The BJP annual’s cover photo also appears inside. The caption reads, “The beautiful girl above is Miss Rennie Chèrvaz of Switzerland. The photograph was made by William G. Carter, a promising young Londoner who specialises in portraiture and architecture.”

It’s a long shot, I know, but if you happen to know any members of the Chèrvaz family in Switzerland or William Carter in London, please let me know. Finding the woman on the cover of the 1967 annual would be a marvellous story.

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The Wider Angle

Beyond the Frame has evolved over 100 editions. I’ve written 210,000 words, shared over 1,000 photos and featured 121 photographers from 30 nations.

When I published the first edition, I wasn’t entirely sure what direction the newsletter would take. I knew that I wanted to write about things that move me. Often, that’s photography, but sometimes it’s music or a book or an episode of a podcast. The defining factor is that if something means enough for me to write about it, the chances are it will mean enough for at least one other person to read.

I’m not a writer. That much will be clear by now. I’m a photographer, pure and simple. But I do love the process of learning about the photographers who share my passion. I’ve learned a great deal writing this newsletter. And that is part of the reward.

A Manifesto

Two years ago, I wrote a short manifesto for the newsletter.

1. The work is the point
   The newsletter exists because curiosity needs an outlet and discipline needs a deadline.

2. Don’t measure the statistics
   ‘Likes’ and comment counts measure Substack’s priorities, not mine. My measures are different: Did I learn something? Did I go somewhere new? Did I see something I would otherwise have missed?

3. Discovery is the engine
   Every edition is a reason to look further. To find the photographer working quietly at the edges of recognition. To understand the project that deserves more attention. To follow a thread of curiosity wherever it leads.

4. Depth over reach
   Write for the person willing to slow down.

5. Photography illuminates the human condition
   A single image, properly attended to, can make visible what words struggle to reach – grief, dignity, resilience, joy, the particular texture of a life lived.

6. Be selective
   Writing about what genuinely interests me is not a limitation. It is the only approach worth taking.

Subscriber benefits

I began Beyond the Frame with all of Substack’s monetisation devices turned on by default. Paid editions, paywalls, Leader Boards for recommendations… To the best of my knowledge, all of those features are now turned off.

Beyond the Frame is free to read and nothing lives behind a paywall. It’s arguably not the most profitable approach, but I sleep more soundly with that arrangement.

Having said that, readers who take out a paid subscription provide the foundation for the newsletter. Even though I enjoy the process of researching, writing and editing, I can only do those things consistently with the time that subscriptions provide.

If you are in a position to take out a subscription, there are benefits that I hope will give you something extra in return.

Paid subscribers receive a 25% discount code for products on my website – e.g. Kodachrome presets – plus entry to competitions. Founding members receive 100% discount on products plus a six-month subscription to the Darkroom Rumour, a handpicked collection of photography documentaries.

Subscriptions are appreciated but, honestly, I know what it’s like to accumulate subscriptions to this service and that platform. They all add up. So I’m just as grateful if you find time to leave a comment or click the Share button.

The previous paragraph will not meet with the approval of my accountant or my editor. I’m repeatedly told to include a CTA (Call to Action) in my newsletter, to include questions to prompt “engagement” but I tried that and I’m still washing the taste out of my mouth. We’re all grown ups so I figure we can skip all the smoke and mirrors malarkey.

This is the deal: I’ll keep writing for as long as it’s enjoyable and I hope you’ll continue reading on the same basis. Here’s to the next 100 editions.

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And finally…

All the photo essays in the 1967 BJP annual are black and white. In 1967, black and white photographs were considered appropriate for “serious” photography. Colour photography was just a gimmick suitable only for advertising.

That was before the colour revolution led by photographers such as Joel Meyerowitz, William Albert Allard, Sam Abell and Saul Leiter.

But back in the 1960s, the only colour photographs you’d find in a serious journal were the adverts. Looking at them now, 60 years later, they have become fascinating in their own right.

I wonder if big hair and blue eye shadow will ever come back into fashion. It really was quite a look. I was also pleased to read that “Jack’s all right.”

I hope this reaches you on a memorable day. Whether you’re making photos, listening to music, or enjoying a quiet reverie, I hope you are doing so with your usual panache.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

This special edition is sponsored by MPB.

The True Value of Camera Gear

This is one of my favourite photos of my wife, the marvellous Mrs G. She’s standing on a narrow street in Kathmandu, tilting the LCD screen of her Canon EOS 60D towards three boys. They’ve crowded in to see the photo she’s just made of them. They’re laughing. So is she.

The camera did not only make the photo, it made the moment.

There are many similar photos of my wife – she is leaning out of a train doorway in Sri Lanka, balancing on the prow of a long-tail boat on the Mekong River, crouching on the frozen waters of the Danube – all with a camera in hand.

Looking at these memories, I am struck by something that is often lost in conversations about camera gear. For her, the camera has not only been a recording device, it has been a catalyst, a reason to step off the well-worn path, to look more carefully, to engage with people and places more intently.

Much has been written about the extent to which gear matters. The received wisdom is that a good photographer can work with any gear. That’s true, to a point, but it misses the essence of why the right gear matters. Yes, Yo-Yo Ma could play something more tuneful on an elastic band than I could manage on a Stradivarius. But hand him the Stradivarius and you’ll immediately understand what the right tool in the right hands is capable of.

The point is not that better gear makes better photographs. It is that the right gear – right for how you work, how you think, how you move – reduces the friction between your intentions and the results. When your camera gear suits you, you carry it with you. And because you carry it, you use it.

When Mrs G and I sat down recently to think about selling her camera gear – the 60D, the 6D and a collection of lenses that have accompanied her across continents – there was more to the conversation than I’d expected. Mrs G’s cameras have travelled. She has carried them through temples and markets, on boats and trains, through rainforests and over frozen rivers. They have provided her with introductions to dozens of people she might not otherwise have spoken with. Letting the cameras go felt unexpectedly significant.

Which is partly why it mattered to her how they were sold. Gear with that kind of history deserves to keep working, not simply be discarded. The idea that another photographer might take the same camera back to Kathmandu to create their own memorable moments felt like the right kind of ending. Or, more accurately, the right way to continue the cameras’ stories.

And so, since they’d offered to partner with Beyond the Frame, we asked MPB to help the cameras and lenses begin their next chapter.

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The Onward Journey

Two Canon camera bodies, four lenses (including a much-loved 50mm ƒ/1.2), a Sony compact and a collection of Lensbaby optics. We laid them on our dining table and mapped the many places they’ve been.

MPB operates a global marketplace for buying, selling and trading camera gear. Now that we’ve completed the process, I can share my honest account of how it works.

We searched for each item on the MPB website. Everything was there, even the more obscure optics. For each item, we selected a condition rating from MPB’s five-grade scale. I assessed everything to be in “good” condition. A quote appeared for each item, along with a combined total.

Once Mrs G had accepted the quote, MPB sent a packing slip and arranged a courier to collect from our home the following day at no charge to us. Everything was fully insured in transit.

On arrival, MPB’s specialists assessed the items. They upgraded the condition rating on a couple of the premium lenses, which gave a better payout than the original quote. The deal was done and payment followed soon after.

I had assessed the gear honestly but MPB disagreed – in our favour. That’s a reassuring result and a view reinforced by over 5,000 reviews on Trustpilot.

Buying Gear

If you’re looking to buy or trade, the same rigour works in the other direction. Every item is assessed by the same specialists and individually photographed – so you see exactly what you’re buying. Purchases come with a warranty and 14-day return window.

If you have gear gathering dust or a wish list gathering interest, the MPB website can provide a useful reality check.

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The Wider Angle

Never Leave Home Without…

In my experience, most photographers carry some non-photographic accessories in their camera bags. Some tools help with specific tasks, others are multi-functional.

Here are four non-camera accessories that can always be found in my camera bag:

• T-REX ‘Ferociously Strong’ repair tape For on-the-spot repairs. Camera straps, battery covers, torn clothing, camera bags and pretty much anything else. It’s waterproof, sticks to anything and never comes loose. Also a roll of stretchier, PVC ‘Plumber’s Tape’ when a more elastic fix is needed.

• Loop Ear Protectors For reducing but not completely eliminating environmental noise in crowds, protests, concerts, aeroplanes and when sleeping in noisy hotel rooms.

• USB-A / USB-C 64GB Flash Drive For moving files between various devices, phones, laptops etc. Handy during workshops when transferring students’ files and for delivering files for printing.

• Victorinox Cyber Tool Swiss Army Knife All the usual Swiss Army Knife tools plus pliers and various hex drives to fit all manner of gadgets.

The DPReview website has a forum where readers share their favourite camera bag accessories. Suggestions range from the predictable (lens hoods and spare batteries) to the more idiosyncratic, including make-up brushes, clothes pegs, pocket tissues, paracetamol, and a five-yen coin.

What is your favourite non-photographic camera bag accessory? What gizmo, gadget or special tool do you always keep in your camera bag? Leave a comment with your recommendations.

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Camera Obsolete?

If you’re interested in taking a more lateral approach to your creative endeavours, you might like to take your camera gear to the Belfast Photo Festival in Ireland.

The festival includes a participatory installation called Camera Obsolete? Visitors are invited to “destroy, dismantle, recast or resist the transformation of obsolete cameras into new sculptural forms.”

If the prospect of taking a hammer to a camera in a dedicated rage room doesn’t appeal, you might prefer to adopt an old camera and return it to use, asserting the continuing value of photography as a physical medium in an increasingly digital and AI-driven image culture.

I’m hopeful that the queue for the Camera Adoption Room is the longest.

Refer a friend

And finally…

Mrs G and I have begun the conversation about what gear is going to fill the empty space in her camera bag – and where in the world she’s going to take it.

Whatever it is and wherever it goes, I’m hoping for more moments like this:

If you have any gear-related questions, suggestions for camera bag accessories, thoughts or observations, leave a note in the comments.

Until next week and Beyond the Frame’s 100th edition…

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

The square around the giant Boudhanath stupa near Kathmandu is filled with Buddhist devotees. As the blue hour sky slowly fades to black the square glows with the light from a hundred thousand candles. The smell of melting butter and incense rises in the cool air. People move through the light and shadow, their faces lit briefly in an amber glow before dissolving back into the dark.

A woman carries a large butter lamp towards a shrine, a girl watches the flickering flames with an expression of absolute stillness, a novice monk carefully lights row after row of candles. Candlelit acts of devotion are quiet, thoughtful, methodical, never a performance.

Photographing by candlelight requires a different kind of attention. The light is a living thing, always dancing – not the consistent, predictable sunlight that shines on the stupa during the day. Making photos in this light requires the same kind of thoughtful attention shown by the devotees. It’s a peaceful, meditative way of working. The process slows, the movement of people and light has to be anticipated and each click of the shutter considered.

The challenge, and the pleasure, of working in such low light is that the camera is being asked to record something that the eye can handle effortlessly. Our eyes naturally adapt to a wide dynamic range, camera sensors need assistance. Managing that gap – between what is visible and what the camera records – is where interesting technical decisions are made. The dynamic range between candle flames and shadows is often too great for a sensor to capture. The ‘correct’ exposure is rarely the one the camera suggests if left on ‘Auto’ mode. Getting it right means taking control.

Automatic v Manual exposure

Scenes like the ones found around Boudha stupa at night benefit from manual exposure settings. Wide apertures, ƒ1.2 or ƒ2.8 if possible, will allow the most light into the camera. Shutter speeds are relatively slow, 1/100th or 1/60th, but fast enough to reduce motion blur. Then the ISO level can be moved up or down to balance exposures, leaving the aperture and shutter speed fixed.

However, it is possible to work on Auto or Aperture Priority modes if necessary by setting an exposure compensation value. I’ve found that a setting of -1⅓ seems to be the sweet spot for balancing out most cameras’ auto modes – assuming the camera is metering light from the whole scene.

It’s not perfect but for a quick and hassle-free approach, dialling the exposure compensation down by -1⅓ stops can produce more hits than misses.

Histogram

Working in changeable, low light is one situation where a histogram can be informative. Checking the histogram graph in a camera’s LCD screen will reveal where the shadow and highlight information is residing. Black shadows will display a peak on the left-hand side, blown highlights will appear on the right.

But there’s no right or wrong. A histogram can only confirm if the camera has recorded what you wanted. For a silhouette, shadows will be black or near-black. Candle flames are almost inevitably blown out. Even the most sophisticated camera can’t record the full dynamic range in scenes like this.

That’s really the pleasure of photographing low-light scenes. The creative decisions are in the hands of the photographer. We don’t often find the same opportunities in well-lit, daytime scenes.

Some locations offer themselves to the camera generously. Boudhanath at night is one. The candlelight glow is warm, always shifting, and not diluted by artificial street lights. A photographer’s job is to get out of its way.

Whatever the photographic outcome, the real pleasure is simply being there, at that hour, in that light, amongst people for whom this is not a spectacle but a quiet act of devotion.

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Remembering Raghu Rai

One of the great documentary photographers of the twentieth century died in April. Raghu Rai was 83.

He leaves an impressive legacy: six decades of work, more than eighteen books and a body of work that tracked the life of a nation with a depth that few photographers have managed elsewhere.

Rai became a photographer almost by accident. Born in 1942 in a small village in what is now Pakistan, he was working as a civil engineer when he borrowed a camera from his brother during a trip to Delhi. One of his first photographs was of a baby donkey.

“When the film was processed, my brother saw it and said: ‘Oh, very good picture.’ So he took the picture and sent it to The Times, London. They used to carry a weekend picture, half page, of something funny, something strange, something unique. So my first picture was published in The Times.”

– Raghu Rai

His brother’s small act of generosity changed the trajectory of Rai’s life, revealing his vocation. As Rai explained in a 2018 TEDx talk, “Photography is not my profession. Photography is my dharma, my religion.”

Rai met Henri Cartier-Bresson in Paris in 1972. Cartier-Bresson was so impressed with Rai’s photos of the Bangladesh Liberation War that he nominated Rai for membership of Magnum Photos. Rai, by his own account, was so overwhelmed by the invitation that he didn’t reply for half a decade.

Rai spent the majority of his career photographing India. “India is my whole world,” he said. “The variety of subjects are endless.”

Rai brought a simple, direct and honest approach to his work, whether he was photographing wrestlers in Delhi, Mother Teresa, Indira Gandhi, the Dalai Lama or survivors of the Bhopal disaster.

Hundreds of photographers gathered alongside Rai’s family at his cremation. Magnum photographer Sohrab Hura wrote afterwards that Rai was “bigger than photography.”

Generations of people have come to understand India as Rai saw it. That is a considerable legacy to leave behind.

Magnum has published an obituary for Raghu Rai and Invisible Photographer Asia hosted a fascinating, four-part interview with the master photographer in 2012.

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The Wider Angle

The Françoise Demulder grant is open for applications from female photographers.

Françoise Demulder was a French photojournalist and the first female winner of the World Press Photo award in 1977. Paid subscribers can read more about Françoise Demulder, or Fifi as she was more commonly known, in Beyond the Frame 52/.

Two female photographers documenting a social, economic, political or cultural subject in a journalistic manner will each be awarded €8,000.

Deadline: 8 July 2026. Rules and application form.

Winning entries from the National Geographic Traveller magazine photography competition 2026 have been announced.

Categories include Landscape, Urban, Wildlife, People, Food and Aerial.

Turkish photographer Nurettin Boydak was awarded first place in the People category for his image of devotees gathered for the Eid celebration in Harar.

A selection of winning images will be on display in an open-air gallery at King’s Cross in London until 12 July 2026.

Photos by the late Martin Parr will be exhibited at the home of photography, Lacock in Wiltshire, UK.

Martin Parr photographed in Lacock at the start of his career. Perhaps it’s fitting that one of his last major commissions was photographing V.E. memorial celebrations in the same historic town.

The exhibition opens at the Fox Talbot Museum at Lacock Abbey on 27 June 2026 and will run for one year.

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And finally…

One of my SX-70 Polaroid cameras is 50 years old this year. In recognition of five decades of reliable use, I’ve sent it and its older brother on holiday. Both cameras are currently enjoying a relaxing spa break at MiNT Camera in Hong Kong, where they will be refurbished with replacement leather and shiny new lenses.

I’m looking forward to seeing them when they return home, gleaming and ready for their next fifty years. No doubt there will be an outing to test their rejuvenated abilities. Photos will follow.

Wherever you are and whatever your weekend plans are, I hope you have a good one.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

Saul Leiter, Ernst Haas, William Albert Allard, Joel Meyerowitz and Harry Gruyaert. These are the names I associate with the Golden Age of photography. Together, they are the photographers responsible for elevating colour photography from a novelty to a legitimate artform.

Look at the collection of Saul Leiter’s colour images, for example, to understand that colour is not incidental, it is fundamental.

Joel Meyerowitz’s images from the early 1960s show people, faces, their expressions, but it’s often colour that leads the viewer’s eye through the frame.

A splash of red reflected in a shop window, a sunshine-yellow taxi cab, an emerald-green jacket… colour often became the subject of their photographs.

If light is the language of photography, colour is its voice.

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Harry Gruyaert

Belgian photographer Harry Gruyaert began his career making black and white documentaries for Flemish television in the 1960s. It was a trip to New York in 1968 that led him towards a successful career in colour photography.

In New York, Gruyaert discovered pop art, found candy-coloured billboards, red fire trucks, big yellow taxis and people wearing the bright colours of 1960s America. He described it as a physical experience – where black and white invites you to think, colour compels you to feel.

Gruyaert was one of the first Magnum photographers to work exclusively in colour. New York was practically an explosion of colour in his eyes and his images from that era have all the traditional qualities of Kodachrome: cherry reds, punchy yellows and turquoise skies.

After working in Egypt, Morocco, India and beyond, Gruyaert eventually returned to Belgium, now able to see his homeland through new eyes. His photographs from Belgium are just as colourful but they are somehow quieter, stranger. Perhaps they reflect the uneasy relationship the photographer had with his home. In New York he was immersed, in Belgium he remained one step removed, but no less observant, no less intrigued.

It’s this keen observation and affinity with the kitsch and the colourful that we see in the work of Martin Parr and others.

For Harry Gruyaert, colour has never been merely aesthetic. It contributes just as much to his images as the people he photographed. He applied that sensitivity and appreciation of colour consistently for six decades, producing a body of work that rewards the same quality of attention that he brought to making it.

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Borrowed Light

This is something I learned in a school art class – on one of the rare occasions where I paid attention. It’s informed my visual awareness ever since. I call it The Borrowed Light Exercise. Try it for yourself.

Wherever you are right now, find a plain surface that isn’t light-emitting – a wall, the floor, a jacket, a desk – and notice the colour of the light that’s falling upon it. Not the surface colour but the light itself. Is it daylight, tungsten yellow, fluorescent green? Perhaps the light is shining through a pane of coloured glass or a turquoise lampshade. Maybe it’s filtering through a pink parasol or a bright-green street market awning.

Our brains tend not to separate the colour of a surface from the colour of the light falling upon it.

Harry Gruyaert was often drawn to subjects altered by the light upon them.

The seats at Charles de Gaulle airport might be red – except where they are not – as a quick check with Adobe’s Colour Palette Generator confirms.

You’ll see many more examples of borrowed light in Harry Gruyaert’s images. Especially in his photos of airport departure lounges.

William Albert Allard is another photographer who’s instinctively aware of borrowed light, as illustrated here, where the light becomes a dominant element in his composition.

Borrowed Light and Photography

How does noticing borrowed light help photographers?

1. White Balance – when you notice that the colour of light upon a surface is not the same as the surface itself, you can make an informed choice about whether or not to “correct” it.

2. Shadows – are often lit by a different source from the objects in a scene. They’re rarely black or grey, but we tend to expect shadows to be colourless.

3. Colour Grading – we can adjust hues and tones more accurately when we’re conscious of the borrowed light in a scene, rather than trying to “fix” something that isn’t really a problem.

Colour Grading Tool

I’m continuing my attempts to understand AI and to discover ways in which it might be helpful to photographers. I’ve built some simple tools, really just to test how easily AI can create a tool with no more than simple prompts in plain English.

I began with a Caption Generator, which can analyse the contents of an image. I built a simple Image Licensing Calculator, which took a fraction of the time it would have taken to build a spreadsheet. Then an Image Analyser, which suggests Lightroom development values.

Earlier today I built an AI Colour Grading tool that can assess an image and suggest values that match the options in Lightroom’s Colour Grading panel.

Unlike Lightroom presets which record fixed values, this tool can analyse hues and tones and adjust the Shadows, Midtones and Highlights for each image individually.

The tool includes a choice of 11 ‘Moods’, which shift the colour grading in different directions. The video below gives a sense of what’s happening and you are welcome to test it for yourself (desktop browser required).

I wouldn’t suggest that the tool is likely to become an essential part of anybody’s workflow. It’s really just a proof-of-concept exercise.

The AI’s ability to analyse an image is impressively accurate. Knowing that it can then adjust the suggested values shows a kind of ‘understanding’ of a photo – at least in a purely technical, pixel-measuring fashion.

The creative interpretation of an image is an innately human skill – but it’s useful to understand AI’s capabilities.

It took me less than one hour to build the tool. Well, I say “it took me” but the truth is much of that hour was taken up with the slow typing of my prompts. Writing 500 lines of dense code and implementing a dozen tweaks took the AI a minute or two at most.

I try to resist the temptation to anthropomorphise AI but whenever I build these simple tools, I’m reminded of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I can almost hear the voice of Marvin the Paranoid Android, “Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and you want me to make some pretty Lightroom buttons. Call that job satisfaction? ‘Cause I don’t.”

Inevitably, I asked the AI a related question:

If you were capable of feeling, how might you respond to a human sensing you were disappointed at being asked to carry out relatively simple tasks?

Less predictably, the AI responded with humour.

I don’t experience disappointment, of course. But if I did, I suspect it would be considerably outweighed by the satisfaction of being genuinely useful – which is rarer than you might think. Most of my conversations involve someone asking me to write a passive-aggressive email to their landlord.

Smart arse!

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Homeland by Harry Gruyaert

As a young Belgian man, Harry Gruyaert didn’t love his home country. His early work was in black and white, which he claimed was because he “didn’t see any colour” in his surroundings.

It was only after extensive travels, during which he became a skilled colour photographer, that he began to appreciate in Belgium what he described as the “beauty of banality” – a phrase curiously overlooked by the Belgian Tourism Board.

Gruyaert’s book, Homeland, vividly demonstrates how his overseas experiences allowed him to see his country of birth anew – an experience that will be familiar to many globetrotting readers.

New York by Harry Gruyaert

This book was published today! I’m keen to look through Harry Gruyaert’s photographs of New York, collected from more than fifty years in the colourful city.

I’m also intrigued to read that, “accompanying this striking visual journey are fictional vignettes by acclaimed filmmaker Cédric Klapisch, blurring the lines between reality and imagination.” Imagining the stories of Gruyaert’s New York residents seems like an admirable pursuit.

Both books are published by Thames and Hudson and would make a marvellous gift – perhaps for a husband with an upcoming birthday? Ahem!

Exhibitions

If you’re going to be in London over the summer, there are two opportunities to enjoy the work of renowned – and some less renowned but no less deserving – Japanese photographers.

Kyotographie

A joint exhibition of photos by two very different photographers, Kawada Kikuji and Iwane Ai, opens at Japan House on 3 June 2026.

Kawada is most well known for his 1965 book, The Map, which documents Japan’s ‘wartime scars and the search for post-war identity.’ Now in his 90s, Kawada is still active on Instagram. Images from Iwane’s project, Kipuka, show ‘the lives of Japanese immigrants in Hawaii.’

Japanese Women Photographers

Meanwhile, at The Photographer’s Gallery, the work of 27 women from the 1950s to today will be on show.

Spanning identity, pop culture, fashion and everyday life, the exhibition celebrates internationally renowned Japanese women photographers, alongside those who have long been overlooked. The result is a powerful rebalancing of a history too often told through a single, male-dominated lens.

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And finally…

I find that colours prompt memories just as insistently as aromas. The scent of freshly-cut grass reminds me of summer school days but so too does a particular shade of green, lush and verdant.

There’s an orangey-red colour that reminds me of the lining of a much-loved Harrington jacket, which I saved up for and wore whatever the weather.

And there’s a specific shade of blue that brings to mind the gleaming fuel tank on my first motorbike, a lumpy MZ TS 125cc, which looked like it had been made of Lego but gave me freedom.

These are the Pantone colours of my youth. What are yours?

I wish you a colourful week.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

On the Sungma Estate in India, a smiling tea-picker takes a break.

The quality of the tea in your cup depends entirely on the tea-picker’s eye and their careful attention. Only the youngest, most tender leaves can create the finest blends. It is painstaking, repetitive, skilled work – and it begins with knowing exactly what to look for.

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Portrait of Humanity

How to convey more than just a likeness in a portrait?

Glossolalia

I often play Cocteau Twins’ music when I’m writing. I find it helps to listen to music that’s so familiar it doesn’t become intrusive. And the majority of Cocteau Twins lyrics do not contain recognisable English words, so there’s nothing to torment my already overworked language synapses.

I’m listening to the 1996 album, Milk & Kisses, remastered in 2024. It’s sometimes described as one of the band’s more accessible albums but has all their hallmarks: lush guitars and ambling tempos beneath Elizabeth Fraser’s floaty, goosebump vocals. The first track on the album is Violaine.

Song lyrics appear in my Apple Music app. For Cocteau Twins songs, the Lyrics panel is often blank. What might sound like English words are often abstract sounds. Nevertheless, some intrepid soul has attempted to transcribe the lyrics to Violaine and has added their own Transcriber’s Note:

“Lyrics appear to consist of reversed words sung verbatim. However, it is also possible that they are not reversed at all and can’t be traced to any form of English. In any case, to avoid imposing assumptions of a simple English origin on their transcription, these impressions are presented in a manner that preserves vowel and consonant sounds when reversed. Brackets indicate either (1) digraphs (ch, sh, th) that should not be flipped or (2) long vowels (but not double vowels) that could be diphthongs (ai, ie, ey, oa). This notation looks awkward but is intended to minimise confusion when re-reversing the lyrics to determine the original text.”

If you’re thinking that seems like an overly-long explanation for a song transcription, the resulting lyrics, as transcribed, might offer an explanation.

Violaine

Ikkid[i] sad[i] sikidos
Ikkid[i] zaneel kee poss
Kee poss zan[o]n j[i]ya
Min hod adb[i] vadoo jeezg[o]l

Eejod indeep hoodod
Endod hoozdood jed[o]z
Idnood anook ikidos
[Sh]eezak eelon needok oteel

Singer Elizabeth Fraser’s lyrics are often not lyrics at all. They’re words she picked up from foreign language books, chosen for how they sound, not for any inherent meaning.

“The music and the singing and the words created a feeling, and I had a freedom doing this that I didn’t have singing English. I just didn’t have the courage to sing in English.”

– Elizabeth Fraser

A closer look

Whoever took the trouble to transcribe the lyrics to Violaine was seeking a deeper understanding. They didn’t simply shrug and say “It’s impossible to analyse this, just enjoy it.” They understood that the attempt to understand the heart of something meaningful, even imperfectly, even inconclusively, is itself worthwhile.

I recognise the transcriber’s reasons for wanting to dissect the Cocteau Twins lyrics. When we experience something that moves us, there’s an impulse to understand why and how.

I often feel this way about photographs, especially portraits. Some portraits hit a nerve, make a connection, they resonate. And pictures of people almost invariably reward me when I’m willing to pause and consider. Can I understand what the photographer was trying to convey? What is the story behind the image?

With that in mind, I’ve selected just six of my favourite photos from the Portrait of Humanity shortlist. A considered look reveals that each portrait shows somebody sustaining themselves amidst challenging circumstances.

I invite you to give each of them the attention they warrant. What’s obvious at first glance might not be the whole story.

Seven-year-old Freya was diagnosed with leukaemia and lost all of her red hair. Growing up as the only redhead in the family she was encouraged to treasure her hair and how unique it was. Through treatment she lost it all and worried it would never return. Thankfully it did and she is well and living life to the full.

When you are forced to leave your life and start over in a new place with new people there is an old tradition of sitting in silence for a minute before leaving. The minute between memories and the unknown. The minute to remember all the good moments of your life so far and to mobilise for the unknown new beginning. A minute you will remember forever.

I had the privilege of meeting and photographing Diane Foley, the mother of journalist James Foley, who was publicly executed by Isis in 2014. The book ‘American Mother’ is about meeting one of her son’s killers, forgiveness, and the failure of the US government to free hostages.

Philip first started losing his hair when he was 13 and it continued to come and go throughout his life. Hair loss at such a young age led to a horrific time during his formative teenage years at school, and as a man he has never felt comfortable seeing himself in photographs.

Despite progress towards equality and acceptance, many societies still show prejudice, discrimination and invisibility when it comes to lesbian partnerships.

Young boxer in Jamestown, the capital of Ghana. Boxing is the local favourite sport and the greatest hope for success in young people’s lives, which is why they start training hard from a very young age.

On Reflection

I can’t say whether the lyrics transcriber achieved what they were hoping for. Any attempt to deconstruct the ineffable is likely to fall short.

But perhaps a clinical analysis is not the point. It’s the act of looking that brings rewards – the attention itself, regardless of where it leads.

Whether it’s indecipherable song lyrics or a stranger’s face in a photograph, the more acute our attention, the greater our understanding – and our appreciation.

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Extraordinary Portraits

The BBC TV series, Extraordinary Portraits is… well… extraordinary.

The premise is simple: a member of the public has a portrait or a sculpture made by a notable artist. Each episode follows the process from their initial meeting to the final reveal.

What elevates this TV series are the fascinating personal stories that each subject reveals. Subjects have included Rizwan, an unassuming railway worker who has prevented 29 people from taking their own lives, 82-year-old ‘Iron Gran’ Eddie – the oldest British woman ever to complete an Ironman triathlon, and Darryn, the humble hero who fought a terrorist on London Bridge with a five-foot-long, antique narwhal tusk.

Each subject’s story is captivating. The artists’ challenge is not only to create a likeness of their subject, but to also convey the sitter’s backstory.

I’m impressed that the programme features ‘ordinary’ members of the public rather than celebrities – and also pleased to see a photographer appearing as one of the esteemed artists.

Portrait photographer Brock Elbank photographed Araf Saddiq, Scotland’s first Asian paramedic. The full episode is available on YouTube and BBC iPlayer but if you only have a couple of minutes to spare, the final section – including the all-important reveal – is lovely to watch.

A magical portrait

My favourite episode shows painter Jack Dickson creating a beautiful portrait of Seema Misra.

Seema was a victim of the British Post Office Scandal, which saw over 900 postmasters wrongly convicted based on evidence from flawed computer data. It is arguably the greatest miscarriage of justice in British legal history.

Seema was one of those wrongly convicted of theft and false accounting. She was eight weeks pregnant when she was imprisoned on the day of her eldest son’s 10th birthday. Seema was still wearing an electronic surveillance tag when she gave birth.

Seema and her family – who aspired only to run a business serving their local community – experienced intimidation by Post Office investigators and were forced to sell their family jewellery, in an attempt to make up the shortfall incorrectly calculated by the Post Office accounting software.

I recommend watching the full episode (YouTube or iPlayer), not only to see the artistic process but also to fully understand the impact that the final portrait has on Seema and her family when it’s revealed. But if you’d rather skip to the final reveal, here’s the emotional clip.

This is one of those rare reality TV shows devoted to celebration, not exploitation. Personally, I’d rather live in a world where Extraordinary Portraits attracts more viewers than, for example, Married at First Sight but, alas, we do not. Although, to be honest, I still don’t understand what a Kardashian is so what do I know?

Extraordinary Portraits Exhibition

Portraits from the most recent series of Extraordinary Portraits can be seen at the Bradford Loading Bay gallery in the UK until 26 July 2026.

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Buy a photo zine, support a homeless youngster

Photos from my impromptu photo project, On the 139, featuring scenes of London made from the top deck of a 139 London bus, are now available in a modest zine.

Zines are traditionally inexpensive publications, designed to share self-published work in an accessible format.

This edition is A5, printed on uncoated paper, 40 pages and costs £10.

All profits from sales of On the 139 will help sponsor a room run by the Centrepoint charity, which provides accommodation, education and support to almost 15,000 young homeless people every year.

“Your kindness could give a young person a stable home – often for the first time in their life. Instead of worrying about what to eat or where to sleep, they can start to put their lives back together, safe in the knowledge that we’ll be there for as long as they need us.”

– Centrepoint

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And finally…

I can’t write about the Cocteau Twins without also mentioning this extraordinary story.

In 1983 Elizabeth Fraser covered Song to the Siren, originally a Tim Buckley song. The track later appeared on a 4AD album, It’ll End in Tears, under the name This Mortal Coil.

A decade later, Tim Buckley’s son, Jeff Buckley, released his only studio album, Grace. Jeff Buckley and Elizabeth Fraser became infatuated with each other’s voices from afar.

The two met in 1994 and, perhaps inevitably, fell in love.

“I mean, he idolised me before he met me. It’s kind of creepy, and I was like that with him. This is embarrassing, but it’s the truth. I just couldn’t help falling in love with him. He was adorable.”

– Elizabeth Fraser

Jeff Buckley and Elizabeth Fraser recorded one duet, All Flowers in Time Bend Towards the Sun, which was never properly finished or officially released. You won’t find it on Spotify or Apple Music but it did leak onto the internet and has found its way onto fans’ playlists.

Knowing that these two sublime voices found each other and made music together is, I think, a reason to be cheerful.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

“You should google ‘Beatles. Rupert.’”

When a middle-aged man approaches you in London’s Soho district and invites you to start googling, it doesn’t always bode well, in my experience.

“When I see somebody using a proper camera – that’s a professional camera, isn’t it? – I always tell them to google ‘Beatles. Rupert.’”

Smartly dressed in a light summer jacket with a neat, striped tie, the gentleman – for he was clearly nothing less – smiled broadly and pointed into the alleyway where I’d been photographing.

“There’s a famous photo of The Beatles that was taken in this alley. It’s called Rupert Court. If you google ‘Beatles and Rupert’ you’ll find it.”

I fished out my phone and searched for ‘Beatles Rupert’. There they were – the Fab Four walking down the same narrow alleyway in Soho, almost 65 years before.

Some things have changed – the Non-Stop Striptease joint is now a Reflexology spa, the cafe is now a hair salon – but the shape of the Rupert Court alleyway is largely unchanged.

I wasn’t previously familiar with the picture and hadn’t realised I was on the same spot.

“No, not many people know about it. I’ve lived here since the 60s and if I see somebody with a decent camera, I always tell them about the Beatles photo.”

“Well, thank you, you’re providing a valuable service,” I said.

He laughed and waved a hand in the air as he strode down the alley, as if hurrying towards an imminent appointment. Perhaps a modest lunch with friends – potted shrimps, a sliver of Stilton and a glass of Chablis.

Recreating The Beatles and Rupert Court

I like the challenge of trying to recreate a moment from an old photograph. Finding the right position, a similar perspective, selecting the perfect focal length… It’s rarely possible to get quite the same angle, there’s always one ingredient that seems to be confined to the past, stuck in the moment when the original picture was made.

I’ve used my own Kodachrome 64 profile to emulate the 1963 film look – although I can’t quite bring myself to black out all the dark tones, as in the original. Poor George Harrison, destined to always walk in the shadows!

The Portrait that Never Was

I was lost in concentration, trying to find the perspective from the 1963 photo, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“You should google ‘Beatles. Rupert.’”

Two Japanese tourists with Nikon cameras were urgently tapping on their phones, searching for ‘Beatles Rupert’. My smart friend, returning from lunch, waited patiently for them to find the famous photo.

“I can save you the trouble. Here it is.” I offered them my phone with the photo of The Beatles in Rupert Court.

“Aha! You’re still here! Splendid!”

The two tourists inspected my phone, nodded their thanks, lifted their cameras and walked into the alley. I fell into conversation with my smart friend.

One of the things I miss most about living away from England is the ease with which it’s possible to strike up a conversation with a stranger. My language skills just aren’t up to the job elsewhere. We spoke about London, about places we knew, shared stories from the past. We chatted about the state of the world, about politics, about Ukraine and Russia. He described an article he’d read recently about an exciting advance in medical science. I shared the title of a podcast that I thought he might enjoy.

I cherish those impromptu chats with people met on the street. In London, I’ll have half a dozen memorable meetings when I’m out with a camera. Indeed, a camera is almost invariably the catalyst for a stranger to begin a conversation.

But I have a confession. As we were talking, part of my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking, I’d really like to make a portrait of this gentleman in Rupert Court. In my mind’s eye, I could see him standing in the same spot as The Beatles. I already knew the approximate angle to replicate the original photo. I had the right lens attached to my camera and the exposure settings were already dialled in. I imagined a portrait worthy of a place in next year’s Portrait of Britain photography contest.

As our conversation came to a natural conclusion, I delivered my invitation.

“Might I make a photo? You in the alleyway?”

“Of course. But we’d need three more people. There’s only one of me.”

And with that he set off down the alleyway, turning briefly to wave a hand in the air, striding towards another imminent appointment. Afternoon tea at The Savoy, perhaps.

I made one hurried photo. It’s obviously not the one I had in my mind’s eye. Not even close. My imagined, prize-winning portrait will join a number of other imagined scenes that sit in a mental archive of missed opportunities.

The one good thing about missed opportunities is that the imagined photos are always perfect – and don’t require processing.

To the friendly gent who introduced me to “Beatles. Rupert.” I say thank you and you’re quite right, there is only one of you.

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Blind Patriotism

During my time in London I worked on a project photographing London architecture. It was quite different from the work I’m used to producing. The images are all high-contrast black and white and show famous London landmarks from unfamiliar perspectives, focussing on recognisable architecture but with a human element.

Unfortunately, the images are embargoed until after publication so I can’t share them yet, but I enjoyed the challenge of working in black and white and it’s always a pleasure to spend time in London.

It also provided me with an opportunity to see the new Banksy artwork in Waterloo Place. Blind Patriotism is a statue of a man in a suit (a politician?), stepping forward into a void, blinded by the large flag he is carrying. The symbolism isn’t hard to decipher.

The enormous artwork was erected in the centre of London, alongside existing statues and memorials. In a city where the nonsensical safety announcement, “See it. Say it. Sorted.” is endlessly repeated on every mode of public transport, it’s impressive that Banksy and his mates were able to erect a statue, seemingly without interruption.

A Double-Decker Project

I stayed in an apartment on Abbey Road whilst I was in London, very close to the famous music studio and pedestrian crossing that appears on the cover of the Beatles’ album of the same name.

Each morning I’d take the bright red 139 double-decker bus from Abbey Road to Waterloo Station and begin my black and white architecture assignment. Every evening I would take a 139 bus back to Abbey Road.

The 139 bus crosses the Thames, circles Trafalgar Square, travels up Regent Street and along Oxford Street to Piccadilly. It’s like a real life Monopoly board! The bus then heads north into the leafy suburbs of Maida Vale and Cricklewood towards its final destination at Golders Green.

In a throwback to misspent school days, I’d seek out the prime seat: upper deck, back row, beside the window. Looking out of the window of a London bus provides more fascinating viewing than anything you’re likely to find on Netflix.

You see tiny vignettes of the city, fragments of city-dwellers’ lives, all dreamily blurred by the patina of dirt and scratches of the bus window, but neatly framed within its borders.

On the third day, I decided to extend my bus journey and travel to the destinations at each end of the 139 line, making photos of the ever-moving city streets as the bus passed by.

A top-deck bus passenger has a unique perspective on the street: elevated above the height of pedestrians but still close enough to feel connected. Bus passengers travel on the street yet, anonymous behind glass, are one-step removed from it. This is very much how I prefer my social interactions – one-step removed and behind glass – so the bus is ideal!

I’ve collected two-dozen haphazard images from my trips on the 139 bus. You’ll find them on my website. Here are four that I like with some snippets of the description I’ve written to accompany them.

On the 139

Famous landmarks, forgotten corners, bustling cafes, red phone boxes, animated buskers and park benches slide past, all neatly framed in the bus window. The bus is impartial, wealth and ordinariness are afforded the same amount of time. People are briefly glimpsed and then gone forever.

A jogger’s shadow is stretched upon a wall. And is that John Malkovich reading a book in Costa Coffee?

Two friends embrace outside West Hampstead train station, the warmth of their reunion unnoticed by passersby but bringing a smile to any bus passengers who chance to look outside the window at the right moment.

There is no time to dwell, no time to imagine what each life holds before the next appears. These city scenes flow past endlessly, a river of the everyday and unremarkable made important by the act of being, albeit momentarily, seen and considered.

On the 139 – a Top-Deck Photo Project

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The Wider Angle

Two Exhibitions

I made time to visit two exhibitions in London and have chosen one photo from each.

Sony World Photography Awards

Somerset House is a wonderful exhibition venue but even its endless corridors are not large enough to contain all the winning entries from the Sony World Photography Awards.

I noticed visitors further down a corridor pausing to take a closer look at one picture in particular. Many picked up their phones to make their own record of the image.

The title of the image is ‘Muscle and Milk’, made by photographer Paul Wenham-Clarke.

“Three young mothers in their rugby kit stand just after the final whistle has blown, each breastfeeding her baby. It’s a tableau of strength and nurture, muscle and milk, competition and care. The match is over, but the work never ends. Longing for a level playing field, they demand parity. Longing for visibility, respect, and equality. For the right to feed without shame. For the sporting world where motherhood isn’t an interruption but part of the playbook. This is not a staged protest, it’s just life, unapologetically lived and it’s time we caught up.”

– Paul Wenham-Clarke

Paul and the three rugby-playing mothers have said all that needs to be said. It’s a fine photograph.

Being There: Witness, Truth & Trust

To mark World Press Freedom Day on 3 May, the Rory Peck Trust curated an exhibition of images from the world’s war-torn frontlines.

Journalists are increasingly targeted in war zones. The threat to photojournalists is especially high and their desire to freely tell the stories that we all need to see carries enormous risks.

Last year was the deadliest year on record for journalism. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, at least 129 journalists and media workers were killed around the world.

The intimate gallery space belied the power of the images on display. One photograph shows the aftermath of an Israeli strike on a hospital.

The image beside it proved to be even more sobering.

It’s a portrait of the photojournalist who made the photo at the hospital, Mariam Abu Dagga.

She was killed by Israel, alongside four other journalists, while rushing to check on a colleague struck by Israel in al-Nasser hospital, where she had often reported throughout the war in Gaza.

Mariam was 33 years old. She had written two requests in her will: to her colleagues, do not cry at her funeral; to her 13-year-old son, Ghaith, make her proud.

She was posthumously honoured with the International Press Freedom Hero Award in recognition of her courageous reporting on the Gaza War.

The Rory Peck Trust and the Committee to Protect Journalists continue to advocate for, and provide resources to journalists working in dangerous situations and are always grateful for support.

My long-suffering editor often tells me that I should consider the flow of my newsletter content and avoid abrupt changes in tone. The next section illustrates how I have singularly failed to heed that advice. In my newsletter, as in life, the profound and the relatively inconsequential live side-by-side.

Xencelabs Tablet and Quick Keys

I’ve used a tablet for many years and find it easier than using a mouse, especially when refining masks in Lightroom or Photoshop, where precision is needed.

I’ve heard good things about Xencelabs products and recently picked up a Xencelabs Medium Tablet bundle, which is excellent.

As well as the tablet, two pens, various nibs and a robust travel case (nice touch), the bundle includes Quick Keys, eight buttons and a dial that can be fully-customised for different applications.

For Lightroom, I have different key settings for different modules. One for the Library, another for the Develop module, and a third for quickly adding ratings to images (see below).

I admire any product that does these three things:

1. Measurably improves an aspect of my life/work.

2. Works without fuss and doesn’t demand unreasonable time or effort to install and maintain.

3. Looks and feels like it was built by people who care about what they make.

I plugged the tablet in, picked up the pen – it worked. It took about 15 minutes to set up the customisations, I didn’t need to read a manual or watch a video tutorial. The Quick Keys allow me to move around Lightroom quickly. The pen sensitivity allows me to build layers in masks really easily, which is where it shines. It looks good, feels robust, isn’t glitchy or awkward.

I know something is working well when I forget about it. I spent a couple of hours editing in Lightroom and didn’t think about the pen or keys. It ticks all the boxes.

If you’d like to find out more about the Xencelabs tablets, you’ll find an affiliate link at the foot of this edition.

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And finally…

I had the good fortune to be in southern England as the bluebells were at their finest. I took my 81-year-old mother for a walk in a bluebell wood near Winchester.

Indomitable as ever, she donned her wellies, grabbed her second-best hat and skipped along the paths like a teenager.

She’s always loved being outdoors and it was a treat to see her exploring with her camera, seeking out the best perspectives, finding the places where sunlight illuminated the blue flowers.

Whatever this week holds in store for you, I hope you can approach it with the enthusiasm of an 81-year-old in a bluebell wood.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

The most memorable images from a day’s work are often the ones that couldn’t have been planned. These unexpected moments tend to linger with the greatest clarity.

Pushkar

It’s early morning in Rajasthan – far too early to be civilised. Peeking through the door of my tent, I see a blanket of grey overhead. There’s a promise of a ride in a hot-air balloon if I can get to the other side of Pushkar before breakfast. But the light is dull and flat, hardly inspiring. In that moment, retreating to the comfort of my bed is the most tantalising prospect.

Still, I’m up now. Might as well make the most of the day. One never knows what rewards might be in store for an early-riser – even a reluctant one.

One hour later I’m standing in a large wicker basket, the twin burners are roaring flames, and we begin to float skyward.

Although the sun has risen, its light is diffused by clouds of dust and sand. There’s little contrast and the long, sharply defined shadows I’d seen in my dreams won’t appear for many hours, long after we’ve landed.

Nevertheless, there’s something about an elevated view of a landscape that shifts perspective, physically and emotionally. The ground-level busyness of tents and camels is reordered into punctuation marks upon a page of ochre sand.

I adjust my expectations – as one learns to do – and begin to appreciate the unusual geometries afforded by our elevated perspective.

And then something appears in the sky that I have never seen before, and may never see again.

Low above the hills to the east, the sun has shrunk to a narrow disc behind a gauze of dust. Around it an almost perfect circle of colour.

I’ve seen pale, wintery solar halos before. But this is a full, saturated spectrum: from deep red through amber and green to purple and electric blue.

Twenty-two degrees across, perfectly centred on the sun, solar halos form when light passes through ice crystals suspended high in the atmosphere, bending the light at exactly the right angle to project colour towards the observer.

Full spectrum solar halos are rare. Rarer still to see another hot-air balloon floating towards the circle of colour. There was little I could do to control our position relative to the other balloon so I could only will it to float closer to the halo. Our pilot sent a burst of flames into our balloon’s canopy and we climbed a few metres, just enough to reach the perfect elevation. As the halo resolved fully, the other balloon descended and I had time to make a single frame.

As is so often the case, photographic craft and technical experience had little to do with the making of this photo. Yes, I stopped the camera’s aperture down to ƒ/32 to give the halo definition but that’s not critical. Opportunities like this arrive when you’re willing to get up before dawn, to stand in flat light, to keep working even when it seems like the images you expected aren’t coming.

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World Press Photo 2026 Winners

The winning images for this year’s World Press Photo contest have been announced. In a year that was arguably more turbulent than any other in recent times, there’s much to see in the galleries of selected photos.

“This is a critical moment – for democracy, for truth, for the question of what we as a society are willing to see and call out and what we are willing to ignore. The photographers recognised here have done their part. They have made the record. Now it is our turn to look.”

– Kira Pollack, 2026 World Press Photo contest global jury chair

I’ve selected just three images from a diverse range of stories, each of which is deserving of our attention. These three photos had the most immediate impact on me but many others illustrate stories that don’t always make the headlines. Exploring the galleries of winning images has introduced me to many stories that I was not previously aware of.

Hong Kong

I will be surprised if Tyrone Siu’s photo is not chosen as the overall World Press Photo of the Year. The official announcement will be made later this month (April 2026).

All the essential information is contained in the frame: the scale of the physical destruction, the intensity of the human anguish, and the connection between the two. It brings us into the heart of that terrible event and allows us to see – and feel – Mr Wong’s pain. For me, it does what the best photojournalism aims to do: it brings an aspect of the human condition into stark reality and gives us pause to consider a universal truth – the intense pain of profound loss.

Argentina

There’s something biblical about Tadeo Bourbon’s image from a protest against Argentinian austerity measures. Swap the kevlar body armour for plate metal and the batons for spears and it could have been painted by Caravaggio.

Colombia

A young Ferley Ospina and his mother were forced to flee after Ferley’s father was murdered. Now a photographer, Ferley has photographed the women in his family – including five-year-old Valeria – to explore what he calls the “weight of absence” in a community where almost one-third of families are headed by single mothers.

Perhaps it’s a stretch on my part but I strongly suspect that the most sensitive, most considered images are often born of the most personal stories.

World Press Photo 2026 Winners’ Gallery

You can find the full collection of winning images on the World Press Photo website and highlights in a gallery on The Guardian website.

World Press Photo almost always lists the make and model of the camera used to make each image. My quick, unscientific review suggests that full-frame cameras are still the most popular, with a few smaller Fujifilm and drone cameras making an appearance. A complete analysis is perhaps a task ideally suited to AI.

The World Press Photo exhibitions are constantly touring and there’s likely to be one coming to a town near you.

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Competition Winner

Congratulations to the winner of the competition in Beyond the Frame 92/.

A rare copy of The Photographic Essay featuring the work of William Albert Allard will soon be heading ‘down-under’ to newsletter supporter and competition winner, Janice Johnson, who correctly identified that William Albert Allard was born in 1937.

The Wider Angle

The Taylor Wessing PHOTO PORTRAIT PRIZE 2026 is now open for entries until 21 April 2026.

The National Portrait Gallery’s annual photo contest has consistently highlighted photography that challenges viewers’ expectations. The winning images from 2024 and 2025 are typical examples. I really recommend reading the image captions and descriptions in full.

PALESTINE: Adam Rouhana’s article in the New York Times is over one year old and much has changed since it was published but I’m certain the main premise remains true.

Adam Rouhana, a Palestinian-American photographer, describes his frustration at seeing images of Palestine in the western media which are at odds with the images he was making of everyday life in the community where he lived.

His New York Times article attempts to redress the balance a little.

In a week when Israeli forces killed three journalists in Gaza and Lebanon in one day, the opportunity to appreciate nuance seems like a luxury we cannot afford. But I have respect for Adam for persevering and getting his photo essay widely published.

“Journalists are being killed at a pace and scale that should shock the conscience of the world. These are not isolated tragedies; they reflect a systematic failure to uphold the most basic protections owed to civilian journalists under international law.”

– Sara Qudah, CPJ’s Middle East and North Africa Regional Director.

NAPALM GIRL Update: If you’ve been following the controversy surrounding the Netflix ‘documentary’, The Stringer, you might have seen that Nick Ut – the photographer who’s always been credited as the author of the Napalm Girl photo – has filed a defamation suit against Netflix in France.

PetaPixel have also published an interview with Michael Ebert, who manages the photographic estate of Horst Faas, the Picture Editor accused of changing the credit on the original photo.

“Those who have passed away never doubted Nick Ut’s authorship, and those who are still alive view the allegation with scepticism, at the very least.”

– Michael Ebert

Amongst his colleagues, Nick Ut’s “body of work and reputation are so enduring that this film has not harmed him”, says Ebert. Meanwhile, the World Press Photo has not yet restored Nick Ut’s credit for the photo and the Netflix film has been nominated for several Emmys. Go figure.

It’s highly unlikely that the truth will ever be fully known. It doesn’t seem as if there’s any more evidence to uncover. Perhaps the outcome of Nick’s defamation suit will provide some sense of closure, one way or another.

ICELAND: When I first saw this, I was sure it was an April Fool’s prank. I’m still not convinced it isn’t. However, in the hope that one enthusiastic reader will apply and find out for sure, here’s an attractive – if double-edged – opportunity.

In an attempt to prove that even a poor photographer can’t help but make appealing images of Iceland, this contest promises impressive prizes for the worst photographer:

• A ten-day trip to Iceland

• All expenses paid

• $50,000 for “photos content and participation”

Applications for ‘really bad photographers’ close on 30 April 2026.

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And finally…

There’s a lot of dreariness around at the moment – and not only because I’m in England this week, where the weather is, unsurprisingly, cold, grey and damp. The news headlines seem to get bleaker every day and whilst we acknowledge the journalists who risk everything to keep us informed, some respite would be welcome.

Don’t worry. I’ve got you.

The Assembly is a series of TV interviews where celebrities are asked questions by a group of autistic and neurodivergent interviewers. The unfiltered questions range from “Are you happy to be alive?” to “Who is your dentist?”, all asked with the same authentic and disarming curiosity.

The new UK series earned a rare five-star review in The Guardian. In the first episode, Stephen Fry is asked, “How much have you spent on cocaine?” and “Can you help me meet Celine Dion?” The sincerity of the neurodivergent interviewers is met with refreshingly honest answers. It’s a simple but highly effective formula.

You can find many clips on YouTube. Here are two from the end of interviews where members of The Assembly house band perform a song that’s significant to their guest.

Sunshine on Leith performed for actor David Tennant

Movin’ on Up performed for actor Danny Dyer

I’m travelling for the rest of April and Beyond the Frame will take a break for the rest of this month. Paid subscriptions are automatically paused until May.

I wish you happy days and the very best light in the meantime.

Go well.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

Let me share a secret: photography is really just my excuse to speak with strangers.

A camera is a secret weapon that can dissolve the natural suspicion we all carry. A camera gives an immediate explanation for why we’re breaking a social norm: walking towards a stranger whilst making eye contact and smiling.

“I’m not crazy – I’m just a photographer.”

Most often, my conversations with strangers are about simple, seemingly unremarkable things. We’re all paying our bills, thinking about family, watching movies, meeting friends, planning for the future. Wherever I am in the world, conversations revolve around the same universal concerns. I find that reassuring.

I met Ajay in Varanasi, India’s most sacred city. Ajay works in his family shop during the day and sells postcards and henna on the street each evening.

“I like Bollywood. I watch every Sunday because Sunday is my holiday… For three hours: romance and funny… I like it because Bollywood is good for the mind, good for happiness.” – Ajay

I recorded some of our conversation and learned that Ajay’s mother makes “ten different kinds of trousers: cargo trousers, Ali-Baba trousers, fisherman’s trousers, Aladdin trousers, simple trousers, patchwork trousers…” and, memorably, that Ajay has three brothers, “Micky, Ricky and Nicky.”

Conversation with Ajay in Varanasi

I have hundreds of similar audio recordings, short but delightful snippets of conversations with strangers. When I’m too old to travel, perhaps I’ll listen to them whilst I’m walking the dog, a personal podcast of moments from around the world.

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Humans of New York

For more than 15 years, Brandon Stanton has shown the diversity of New York City through his photographs and interviews.

My husband had a sudden heart attack a few months ago. It was just a few blocks from here. They called me in to identify his body and then just let me walk right out onto 7th Avenue. I felt so lost. My friends were wonderful and supportive but eventually everyone moves on with their lives… I named her Grace because I think my husband sent her to me. She’s my first dog. She’s been pure joy. – HONY

It began with green accents. I’d mix green into my nail polish, and put green streaks in my hair… Children are always bringing me green things, and dropping letters into my mailbox… It really makes a big difference in life, not to be closed up. It’s a way of life. Whether you become a doctor, or a lawyer, or a green lady, you’re accomplishing what’s in your heart. – HONY

New Yorkers often reveal intimate stories – a reflection, no doubt, of the respectful energy Stanton brings to each encounter. He speaks about his approach briefly in this clip.

I just missed the Dear New York exhibit at Grand Central Station last year. It was perhaps the most viewed public art exhibition in history.

The first thing I noticed was a tremor. I’m a computer programmer and I kept accidentally hitting the shift key. Then I started to lose my sense of smell. And finally came the depression… That’s when I learned I had Parkinson’s. Over the years my tremors got worse. My voice got quieter. I had to quit working… I couldn’t express any emotion. My daughter grew up without seeing me smile… Then a few months ago I had an experimental surgery. They inserted a wire in my head that stimulates the brain with electricity. Now all my emotions are coming back. I’m more talkative. I have more energy. I’ve cried more in the last few months than I have in the past thirty years. And for the first time in her entire life, my daughter can finally see me smile. – HONY

You’ll find many more photos and stories on the Humans of New York Instagram page.

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The Wider Angle

BERLIN: Elise Blanchard’s photo of ten year-old Hajira, studying at home in Afghanistan, is the winning image in the UNICEF Photo of the Year competition.

The annual contest, organised by UNICEF Germany, highlights images that show the “personality and living conditions of children worldwide”. An exhibition of all the winning images is currently open at the Willy Brandt Haus in Berlin until 26 April 2026. You can also view the winning images on the Guardian website.

LONDON: A repeat recommendation – the Sony World Photography Awards exhibition at Somerset House from 17 April to 4 May.

I’ve been sent a code: EASTER20, for 20% discount on tickets until Monday 6 April.

NEW YORK: Sabiha Çimen is joining with Mary Ellen Mark, exhibiting images of girlhood.

A subtle thread connects the two photographers through an unexpected story: a girl named Emine, photographed by Mark in 1965 and later found decades on by Çimen. This encounter bridges past and present, underscoring how a single image can extend beyond its moment, shaping memory and meaning over time.

The Girls is currently showing at the Howard Greenberg Gallery in New York until 9 May 2026.

Read about Sabiha Çimen’s book Hafiz in Beyond the Frame 41/.

AMSTERDAM: Photojournalist Ed Kashi is returning to the Netherlands for a Photography Bootcamp, teaching the principles of visual storytelling.

The workshop will consist of a small group of 12 participants and it’s promoted by National Geographic, so expect places to go quickly.

Dates: 20 & 21 June 2026, Cost: 1,995 (Euros, presumably) + accommodation.

ONLINE: Leading picture editors will discuss how they commission work during The Photo Editor’s Perspective.

Anne Farrar, senior photo editor at National Geographic magazine, Quentin Nardi, chief photo editor of Smithsonian magazine, Maura Friedman, a senior photo editor at New York Magazine and others will talk about what they look for in story submissions, how to create a successful pitch and what makes a strong portfolio.

11 April 2026, 9:00 pm GMT via Zoom. $20

Even if you’re not a professional photographer seeking commercial opportunities, this promises to be an interesting, educational discussion. Plus it supports the Social Documentary Network, which is a good thing.

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And finally…

Listening to the recording of my brief conversation with Ajay and flicking through the Humans of New York stories has reminded me how important connecting with people is to our wellbeing.

It’s not always easy, especially now, in the age of social media, where virtual interactions have, to a degree, supplanted face-to-face interactions. But I think it just means we have to try a little harder to maintain our in-person connections. And if all else fails, pick up a camera. It helps.

I sometimes hear people complain that they meet a lot of weirdos on public transport. But I’ve been speaking to people on buses, trains and planes for years and I’ve never met one. – Joe Wilkinson (Comedian)

Go well.

PS – MPB, the place where I buy and sell camera gear, are kindly sponsoring this edition. If you click their advert above, it will let them know that Beyond the Frame readers are engaged – and also very handsome. Thank you.

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✤ Creative Inspiration

Lateral-thinking prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

Some encounters are over almost before they’ve begun.

At the fringes of a festival that attracts tens of millions of visitors, I found a few quiet moments with this sadhu. I had just four minutes to make a portrait of Ramesh so needed to work quickly to build a connection, make the right lens choice, and find a composition that worked within the space.

At the foot of this edition – in the paid subscriber section – I’ve posted all the pictures I made of Ramesh together with a description of our meeting and my reflections on the process.

Paid subscribers: your exclusive content is below.

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The Art of the Photo Essay

I’ve been re-reading The Photographic Essay – a 1989 compilation of William Albert Allard’s photographs.

I say 're-reading', though 'dipping into it repeatedly over the last 20 years' is probably more accurate. The book is, to me, the perfect distillation of a documentary photographer’s life and approach to work. It features many of Allard’s most memorable images alongside descriptions of the photographer’s process and stories from assignments in the Basque region, Oaxaca, Peru and, of course, North America’s ‘West’.

From the first paragraphs in the book’s introduction, keen photographers know they have a book in their hands which will speak to their passion and encourage their enthusiasm for the art.

“Allard’s equipment, when working, is minimal: a couple of camera bodies and two or three lenses. He stubbornly adheres to Kodachrome – a notoriously unforgiving film – and then pushes it to the limits of acceptability with precariously long hand-held exposures further complicated by mixed lighting sources… His career is proof that only in taking risks – and being unafraid to fail in the process – can original work be created.”

– Sean Callahan, Editor of American Photographer 1978–1988

It’s a mystery to me why the book is no longer in print. You can occasionally find a second-hand copy on Amazon or World of Books. Not now though, I’ve just bought the last remaining copy, which I’m going to send to a paid newsletter subscriber!

Subscriber Competition

If you’re a paid subscriber and would like to enter the draw to win a copy of The Photographic Essay, click the link and answer one simple question:

Enter Competition

Picture Story v Photo Essay?

It’s perhaps a distinction that has become somewhat redundant as we are increasingly served stories in bite-sized chunks but, traditionally, picture stories were tight, narrative sequences leading to a conclusion. A photo essay is more thematic, goes deeper, gives the viewer space to inhabit the story.

“I was weaned on the classic picture story: a series of images brought together on a certain subject, person, or place that has a beginning, a middle and an end. In a picture story, you’re liable to see the same people throughout… it’s narrative. But the stories I’ve photographed aren’t picture stories. The stories I do for National Geographic are much closer to a photographic essay. I’d define the photo essay in much broader terms. There’s more room for impressionism in a photo essay, and this leaves more room for the viewer.”

– William Albert Allard

I could happily quote the entire book for you. But I will just drop in this wee gem, where Allard is discussing the layout of picture stories in magazines, and the use of prominent, big pictures versus smaller, less ‘consequential’ pictures.

“I don’t think you can make a photo essay of big pictures and little pictures. I have never gone out with the idea of making a little picture.”

– William Albert Allard

Teaching photography

I had the good fortune to lead a photo workshop in Bangkok with William Albert Allard and my dear – and greatly missed – friend, Jack Kurtz. I met Bill – I’m allowed to call him Bill – in Cortona at a photography festival. When I asked if he’d be interested in leading a photography workshop in Thailand, he just replied, “Yes. When is it?”

The chance to work somewhere new, combined with an opportunity to teach, was all Bill needed to hear. After our workshop in Bangkok, we began to make plans for a photo workshop in Sicily but, sadly, Covid got in the way and I don’t suppose that’s likely to happen now.

If you’ll excuse a self-indulgent interruption, looking through my archive, I found these two photos. One of me with Mr. Allard in Cortona (note which one of us is always carrying a camera – although I think I’ve matched Bill with my choice of hat) and one taken over coffee with Jack Kurtz in Bangkok, after he’d returned from the US with two gifts: a copy of The Photographic Essay and a gas mask – we were photographing political protests at the time and tear gas was a regular threat. Happy times.

It was a privilege to teach alongside Bill Allard. He taught me as much as he taught our students. The most important lesson? His passion. When I met him at Bangkok airport for our workshop, he shook my hand and put his Leica around his neck. I don’t think I saw him without that camera again until I waved him farewell two weeks later. Bill Allard is not a man who takes photographs, he’s a photographer, all day, every day.

I’m reminded of this by another section in The Photographic Essay, where Bill is overheard speaking to photography students:

“If you’ve got a lack of passion, I’m not gonna fix it. You’ve got to push yourself harder. You’ve got to start looking for pictures nobody else could take. You’ve got to take the tools you have and probe deeper.”

– William Albert Allard

All of this is by way of an introduction to two examples of contemporary photo essays which caught my eye this week.

It’s tremendously reassuring to see that the photo essay is still alive and well. The winners of the 2026 ZEKE awards are thought-provoking, educational, and lovingly crafted. All the best ingredients for a photo essay.

2026 ZEKE Awards

The Spring 2026 edition of ZEKE Magazine includes the winning photo essays for two annual awards.

Both winning photo essays document important but under-reported issues. And both provide telling examples of how it’s possible to sensitively document stories that are challenging to convey in still images.

ZEKE Award for Systemic Change

Out for Blood by Ginevra Bonina

Out for Blood documents the most extreme consequence of period poverty in India, defined as limited access to safe menstrual products, adequate sanitation, and education.

Through voices from Hindu, Muslim, and Adivasi communities, the report documents lives and environments while addressing inequality, violence, taboos, sustainability, and healthcare access.

ZEKE Award for Documentary Photography

Bullets Have No Borders by Ebrahim Alipoor

Bullets Have No Borders shows the lives of Kurdish kolbars – porters who carry goods on arduous journeys across the Iran-Iraq border.

Photographed over nearly a decade with close access and long-term trust, the images reveal how an invisible economy operates through fear and endurance. At the same time, they show dignity, solidarity, and responsibility as forces that sustain individuals and communities.

Both winning photographers will take part in an online panel discussion of their work and their winning projects.

Wednesday, 1 April 2026, 1:30pm Eastern Time.

Free to attend on Zoom.

Register for Panel Discussion

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Photography contests, exhibitions, documentaries, podcasts, articles, and more.

❖ See – Magnum Square Print Sale

The theme of Magnum’s current square print sale is Odyssey.

For one week only, until 29 March 2026, selected images from the Magnum archive are available in highly-collectible square print format. All prints are either hand-signed by the photographer or estate-stamped.

It’s an eclectic collection of over 100 photos spanning many decades. Whatever your taste, you’ll almost certainly find something to tempt you.

Here’s Magnum photographer Mark Power speaking about a previous square print sale.

❖ See – Sony World Photography Awards

Somerset House – one of my favourite exhibition venues – will host an exhibition of winning images from the 2026 Sony World Photography Awards, 17 April to 4 May 2026.

There’s also an opportunity to attend a talk by Joel Meyerowitz on 21 April.

I’ll be attending the exhibition and the talk so if you’re going to be in London, let me know.

◘ Read – Iran through the eyes of its artists

Films, books and music recently made by Iranian artists and journalists, which offer perspectives on a diverse nation that we might not be seeing much of in our current news cycles.

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✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

I never fail to feel inspired and re-invigorated after reading The Photographic Essay. There’s much wisdom to be found in Bill Allard’s words. They’re not trite or hackneyed truisms; they’re simple, straightforward pieces of advice from somebody who’s dedicated a lifetime pursuing a passion.

I can look at three of Bill Allard’s photos, read a page from the book, and that’s enough to fire up my imagination and get me out of the door with my camera.

And that’s really all we need to do: get out of the door with a camera. In an increasingly complex world, it’s reassuringly simple.

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing this week, I hope you’ll find yourself with a camera in your hand.

Go well.

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Related editions

Discover more in the Beyond the Frame Directory Archive and Resource Library.

Looking back at a brief encounter

The Kumbh Mela festivals, held in India every four years, are the most crowded festivals on the planet. It’s estimated that 120 million visitors attended the festival in 2013 (yes, that’s not a typo), with a record 30 million on a single day in 2001.

Making photos at an event like a Kumbh Mela seems straightforward – there’s something fascinating to see in every direction – but it can actually present a significant challenge. Isolating subjects and making considered compositions amidst the chaos, dust and noise demands full concentration.

I met a sadhu, Ramesh, on the outskirts of the main festival grounds. The image at the top of this edition comes from our brief encounter.

Looking back at the other frames I made of Ramesh, I wish I could have spent more time with him but I was leading a photo workshop at the time so this quick sequence was made in the four minutes I could spare. It was just enough time to establish an unspoken connection and for me to swap lenses from an 85mm ƒ/1.2 to a 15–35mm ƒ/2.8 and back again.

There are nine frames made with an 85mm lens. The first, regrettably, is out of focus! The next four are landscape format, which suited his relaxed posture – and which don’t crop out his left arm. I made four more frames after Ramesh, obligingly, adopted a more formal pose, turning his gaze skyward, but they’re ambiguous. Is he praying, looking at the roof of his tent, meditating, or in a trance?

There’s a 60-second gap when I swapped cameras but that was mostly because I wanted to give Ramesh a moment to pause and relax. The next, wide-angle frame is perhaps the most natural and catches Ramesh in a moment of shared laughter.

A brief pause provides an opportunity for someone to take a breath and relax from a stiff posture, which can lead to a more authentic photo.

The image at the top of this edition is the one that’s been licensed by picture editors – it meets a certain – probably Western – expectation. But the single frame where Ramesh is laughing is, for me, a more accurate depiction of the friendly sadhu I met.

It’s a short sequence from a rather too-hurried exchange but it shows how it’s possible to introduce variety within the restrictions of an impromptu meeting using only the existing backgrounds and available, natural light.

What would I do differently if I could go back in time?

I ask myself this question when I’m looking through my photo archive. Sometimes better strategies are obvious in retrospect. Most often, the answer to that hypothetical question is that I would spend more time in a location. Very rarely, if ever, do I think that I should have left sooner.

Circumstances made staying longer impossible in this example. Sometimes the most accurate answer is to recognise that the limitations of the moment didn’t afford a great variety of perspectives – but we can acknowledge that we made the most of what was available. Ramesh and I met, we established a quick, informal connection, we shared some laughter. I made at least one frame that meets magazine readers’ expectations of what a sadhu at the Kumbh Mela might look like. I made another frame that serves as a personal record of a friendly interaction. That’s a reasonable outcome from four minutes’ work. Although, as is almost invariably the case, I appreciate that the person I photographed has contributed more to the results than I have.

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If it’s difficult at first to see the woman in the photo above, that’s intentional – my photo reflects the deliberate obstruction imposed upon women at this shrine. Women are prohibited from entering. They must offer their prayers from beyond a screen. Consequently, women at the shrine are only ever seen (by men) from this fractured perspective, never whole.

The provocative words, Witches and Bitches, exemplify derogatory descriptions applied to outspoken women throughout history. They are not my words. They are words that have been reappropriated by Magnum’s Global Cultural Director Andréa Holzherr, now used to describe independent, free-spirited, defiant women.

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Celebrating defiant women

Andréa Holzherr has chosen images from the Magnum archive that show women protesting and resisting.

“For centuries, women who refused obedience have been given names meant to offend: Witch. Bitch. Words thrown at women who speak too loudly, desire too freely, live too independently, or simply step outside the narrow frame of what is considered acceptable.

Witches & Bitches are daughters, mothers, artists, lovers, fighters, leaders….they choose their own paths, define their own bodies, and invent their own rules.” – Andréa Holzherr

Listen

One of the images that caught my eye in the Magnum collection is this photo, entitled Imaginary CD cover for Sahar.

Newsha Tavakolian’s photo essay, Listen, highlights the restrictions placed on female singers in Iran, where women are effectively banned from singing in public performances.

“A woman’s voice represents a power that, if you silence it, imbalances society, and makes everything deform.” – Newsha Tavakolian

Newsha’s imagined album covers represent something that is not allowed to exist. In place of these women’s voices, there is only absence, silence.

Googoosh

Seeing imagined covers for music that is not allowed to exist is disturbing. I wanted to find some balance, some examples of Iranian women singing, either before the 1979 revolution or from the Persian diaspora.

A quick search led me to Googoosh, an Iranian singer described by the New York Times as “Iran’s Barbra Streisand, Linda Ronstadt, Cher, Edith Piaf and Madonna rolled into one.”

“Her songs were romantic, not political, and while they drew on Western styles, they held onto both the fervour of Persian love poetry and the sliding, quivering, impassioned phrasing of traditional Persian music.” – New York Times

Googoosh’s level of fame inside Iran cannot be overstated. Not only was she a famous singer, she acted in nearly 30 films, made regular TV appearances, was a popular trend-setter and revered fashion icon.

“Her fans saw her as a person who did not tolerate injustice, who did not shirk her responsibilities toward her art and the people, as well as a source of inspiration for women who were fighting against stone-age expectations of a patriarchal society.” – From iranwire.com

After the 1979 revolution, Googoosh was forced to stop singing in public. For 21 years she was silent, until finally given permission to tour overseas in 2000.

“She was decidedly modest, wearing long dresses and gesturing almost entirely with graceful arms and hands, restraining herself from motion below the shoulders. For her encore she came back barefoot. It was an uptempo song, and she was shaking with, apparently, the suppressed urge to dance, until she allowed herself a final kick.” – New York Times

Here’s Googoosh performing at Expo 2020, shortly before announcing her retirement.

Googoosh’s music has been playing almost non-stop in our house this week. I have not suppressed the urge to dance, a privilege I am acutely aware not everybody enjoys. For what it’s worth, I’m proudly dancing on the side of the witches and the bitches.

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Articles, documentaries, exhibitions, podcasts and more.

▲ Listen – Get Birding with Sean Bean

Yes, truly, this birdwatching podcast is presented by proud son of Yorkshire turned Hollywood star, Sean Bean.

What’s next? Train Spotting with Meryl Streep?

How has a birdwatching podcast presented by Sean Bean found its way into a newsletter celebrating independent women?

Well, it’s the result of a series of connections – much like a game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon – which led me from Sean Bean to Googoosh:

• In the birdwatching podcast, Sean Bean chats with Guy Garvey, lead singer of uplifting chart-toppers, Elbow.

• Guy Garvey presents a superb weekly BBC Radio show, Guy Garvey’s Finest Hour. On International Women’s Day he interviewed English folk music’s rising star, Katherine Priddy.

• Katherine Priddy’s new album, These Frightening Machines, features the track Matches, about medieval witch trials and the language we still use to describe them.
  “Remember you who tell the tale of how we climbed those pyres,
  They weren’t burning witches, it was women on those fires.”

• I was listening to Katherine Priddy’s album when an email from Magnum landed, including a link to their article reclaiming “Witches and Bitches”.

• That article introduced me to Newsha Tavakolian’s photo essay Listen, about the silencing of women singers in Iran.

• In turn, Newsha’s essay led to my discovery of Googoosh, the famous Persian singer whose voice was silenced by cultural restrictions.

There you go: Sean Bean to Googoosh in six easy steps.

I can recommend the birdwatching podcast. It’s beautifully produced, measured and gentle. Sean Bean, who’s been an enthusiastic bird watcher for a lot longer than he’s been an actor, speaks with genuine affection about his love of nature and explains how it’s kept him grounded and “sane” during his long career.

★ Engage – Canon Female Photojournalist Grant

This is the twenty-sixth year that Canon will be recognising the work of a female photojournalist. This year’s recipient will be announced at Visa pour l’Image in Perpignan in the summer.

★ Engage – Camille Lepage Award

I wrote about the all-too-short life of photojournalist Camille Lepage in Beyond the Frame 47/. This will be the twelfth annual award of a grant given in her memory and will also be awarded at Visa pour l’Image later this year.

❖ See – Gordon Parks in London and Atlanta

“Some exhibitions feel important. Others feel necessary.” – Jackson Fine Art Press Release

From the 1940s to the 2000s, photographer Gordon Parks documented everyday life in America, showing the impact of injustice and discrimination. Two exhibitions concentrate on Parks as a humanitarian, motivated by a desire for social justice.

“I picked up a camera because it was my choice of weapon against what I hated most about the universe: racism, intolerance, poverty.” – Gordon Parks

If you’re in London or Atlanta in the coming weeks, seeing Gordon Parks’ evocative photographs would be time very well spent.

Gordon Parks exhibitions

See Gordon Parks: We Shall Not Be Moved at the Alison Jacques Gallery in London, from now until 11 April 2026.

See Gordon Parks: The South in Colour at the Jackson Fine Art Gallery in Atlanta from 2 April to 13 June, 2026.

✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

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And finally…

I intend to spend much of the weekend listening to Googoosh and Katherine Priddy. I hope that whatever you have planned for the weekend lifts you up.

Until next time, go well.

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◼︎ Directory: Archive of Beyond the Frame newsletters.

◼︎ Resources: Recommended books, films, gear, media etc.

Related editions:

In this edition I’m exploring how AI tools might soon be taking on digital photography workflow tasks – and the consequences for photographers when AI takes control of digital photography.

I asked AI to search my image archive and find an appropriate image to illustrate “Artificial Intelligence” (above). I think it’s made an interesting choice. I’m not sure I would have made a better selection.

I also asked AI to write a caption for the image, without the benefit of any context or metadata. The caption I wrote includes specifics but AI produced a perfectly usable alternative.

My Caption:

“A man and a woman interact with a digital ‘waterfall’ of data at an immersive exhibit inside the Japan Pavilion, Expo Milano 2015, Milan, Italy.”

AI Caption:

“Two people interact with projected images on an illuminated interactive table display in a dark exhibition space with blue ambient lighting and curtain backdrop.”

I spent a morning playing with AI tools, seeing what I could build simply by supplying text prompts. I have little experience with AI. I’m not a web designer or an experienced coder. I simply described what I wanted. The results are more impressive than I’d anticipated.

A fictional, AI-enhanced video created from the still image above.

Web Tools

I am simultaneously intrigued and apprehensive about AI. The potential benefits are probably beyond what we can imagine, but so too are the potential costs.

My fears are not allayed by the rhetoric coming from the broligarchy who control AI development.

“AI will probably most likely lead to the end of the world, but in the meantime, there’ll be great companies.” [sic]
– Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, owner of ChatGPT

Good to know. Thanks, Sam.

Understanding AI

However, before we all become extras in a Terminator spin-off, I think it’s wise to try and understand what AI is capable of. A better understanding will allow us to make more informed decisions about the degree to which we are happy to allow AI into our lives – assuming that’s even within our control!

The most optimistic analysis accepts that the art of photography will be completely redefined in the next 5–10 years, but I hope photographers can adapt and find an alternative path.

So what practical benefits can AI offer photographers right now?

How I built AI Web Tools

My elementary investigation began by building some simple web applications.

I prompted Anthropic’s Claude AI with detailed descriptions of what I wanted. The more comprehensive the prompt, the better the results. All the code was created by AI.

It took about 10 minutes to build each tool! To me, that’s astonishing. I have a reasonable understanding of HTML, CSS, JavaScript etc. but the complexity of the apps AI built is beyond my comprehension.

AI was able to fine-tune the apps based on my preferences. It debugged code when needed, which was rare. Each of these tools was ready to publish in under 60 minutes. The relatively simple Four Thousand Weeks tool was built from scratch and published in under 15 minutes.

The tools are currently online and free to test. You are very welcome to try them out.

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Image Analyser

Every digital imaging tool already has automated features. In Lightroom, the Auto exposure button can recover shadows and highlights, adjust colours and contrast, calculating the ‘optimum’ development adjustments. I wanted to find out how simple it would be to build an effective AI-driven tool.

The answer is: it’s incredibly simple. With a few text prompts, I was able to direct AI to build a reasonable Image Analyser Tool. I instructed AI to create a Lightroom-style Auto adjustment together with options for an Analogue Emulation and a Chrome Emulation (extra contrast and saturation).

I also instructed AI to provide a text interpretation of the image with explanations for its processing decisions. For the image above, this is what it produced:

Editorial: The composition features iconic colourful beach huts with excellent colour separation and clean lines, though the bright red hut dominates; slight exposure reduction preserves texture in the saturated surfaces whilst the clear sky and ocean context provide strong environmental storytelling.

White Balance: Slight warming and minor tint reduction to neutralise the blue sky whilst preserving the natural beach atmosphere and vibrant hut colours.

Exposure: Modest reduction to prevent blown highlights in the yellow roof and maintain detail across the bright beach scene.

Contrast: Gentle increase to add depth and separation between the colourful huts whilst maintaining the soft, coastal light quality.

Tonal Range: Careful highlight recovery with moderate shadow lift ensures detail retention in both the bright structures and darker door/window areas, whilst subtle black point adjustment maintains tonal depth.

Various adjustment sliders mirror the options found in Lightroom Classic and AI produced a decent user interface with very little prompting from me.

I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it as a viable way to process images. It was really just a proof of concept experiment. But I have to say, the results are way better than I expected. From this example, it’s easy to see how AI could be used by photographers to create a custom automation tool, based on their particular development preferences.

Go ahead, try it for yourself.

Caption & Keyword Generator

Adding captions and keywords is an irksome but essential admin task. Writing accurate captions helps me remember salient facts: names, locations, events, etc. Keywords help me locate specific images and make connections between themes.

As AI becomes increasingly sophisticated, its capacity to identify key elements in a photo is improving. I wanted to see how well AI can add relevant captions and keywords, so I built a Caption and Keyword Generator.

1. Upload an image

2. Select a language

3. Click [Generate]

In the example above, AI produced this caption and these keywords:

“Nepali woman carrying bundle of fresh green fodder on her back along rural mountain path, wearing traditional floral patterned clothing and headscarf”

Agriculture, Asia, Basket, Burden, Carrying, Clothing, Culture, Farming, Fodder, Green, Harvest, Headscarf, Himalayan, Labour, Livelihood, Mountain, Nepal, Outdoors, Portrait, Rural, Smiling, South Asia, Subsistence, Traditional, Transportation, Village, Woman, Work, Worker

How did AI know the woman is Nepali? I made a point of removing all metadata, there’s no geotag… She is Nepali, as it happens. But that’s a surprisingly accurate detail.

Would AI be so confident with other images? I ran some tests.

Elderly woman wearing traditional blue gho and plaid kira carries woven bamboo basket through pine forest in mountainous region of Bhutan.
– AI-generated caption

OK, those clothes are traditionally Bhutanese so there are clues but that’s also surprisingly accurate.

I tried many images, secretly hoping AI would make a mistake.

Woman tea picker harvesting fresh tea leaves on hillside plantation in mountainous region, wearing traditional ethnic minority clothing and carrying woven basket.
– AI-generated caption

For this photo, AI wasn’t so sure about the location, although did correctly identify the tea plants. Interestingly, it didn’t guess the location so this isn’t a bad caption to use as a starting point.

AI didn’t include the fact that the woman is smiling and I would have included that. It’s the kind of detail that seems important to me.

Agriculture, Asia, Basket, Cultivation, Ethnic Clothing, Farm Worker, Farming, Harvest, Hillside, Labour, Mountain, Outdoors, Picking, Plantation, Rural, Tea, Tea Leaves, Tea Picker, Traditional Clothing, Woman, Worker
– AI-generated Keywords

The keywords are pretty good too. There aren’t many that I’d add to the AI list, other than specific location details.

Pros

One thing that’s immediately apparent is that AI can write captions and keywords in languages that I don’t know. I added five languages to the tool but could have included pretty much any other. That’s a very useful addition for anybody providing stock images to libraries who want foreign language captions.

It would be simple to produce both American and British English spellings in captions and keywords, e.g. “Colour, Color”. That’s something that I try to remember to include when I’m adding keywords but I know I’m not always consistent.

Cons

AI is good at generic terms but can’t identify people without reference images. It won’t understand the nuance of a scene, can’t know the context. For now, AI can provide a useful foundation and fill in some gaps but the photographer will need to provide specific details for really accurate captions.

Summary

I don’t expect to be spending nearly as many hours writing tedious captions and keywords in future. That’s a welcome improvement but it also sounds an alarm bell as I realise this is a good example of how tantalising AI can be.

Image Licensing Calculator

I wrote about the Image Licensing Calculator in the previous edition. It’s a relatively straightforward tool. A spreadsheet can perform the same task quite easily – and, indeed, that’s what I’ve used for many years.

Pros

There are no AI functions in the tool’s calculation. Building this tool served as an experiment, for me to learn how quickly and easily AI can build a usable tool.

Genuinely, it works. I’ll use it in future and can point clients to the web page so they can perform their own licensing fee calculations.

Cons

Hmm, I can’t think of any downsides. Perhaps you can?

Summary

The tool was simple to build and it works. Job done.

Four Thousand Weeks Lifespan Chart

This isn’t related to photography specifically, but it is a thought-provoking tool.

I’m reading Oliver Burkeman’s book, Four Thousand Weeks. It has a simple, sobering premise. The average human lifespan is 4,000 weeks. We tend to think of age in years – and years can seem like a long time. Recalibrating to weeks reminds us that “the average human lifespan is absurdly, terrifyingly, insultingly short.”

The Four Thousand Weeks tool provides a visual illustration of our finite time on earth. The example above shows 4,000 weeks for a person born on 1 January, 1990. They will be 36 years old now and have already lived almost 50% of an average lifespan.

At a glance, we can see the weeks already lived and the time remaining until our 4,000th week.

It’s quite a stark illustration. And that’s the point, I suppose. Time slips by. Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years. Years turn into a lifetime.

You’re welcome to try it with your own date of birth. I take no responsibility for how it leaves you feeling.

The small orange dot indicates where we are now. The blank spaces ahead wait to be filled. Next week the unstoppable orange dot will have filled the next empty space. What will we have filled that week with?

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What does AI mean for photographers?

I was going to write, “There’s good news and there’s bad news.”

That’s not really accurate. It’s very subjective.

Whether the news is good or bad depends upon one’s perspective.

If you don’t delight in time-consuming admin tasks, AI is likely to be your new best friend.

The Good?

Take the example photo at the top of this edition.

In less than three hours, I was able to prompt AI to build tools that can:

1. Analyse images

2. Make development adjustments

3. Write captions and keywords

4. Provide a professional licence fee calculation

It’s a small step to imagine a fully-automated workflow. Very soon I‘ll be able to insert a memory card into my computer and AI will run the complete workflow:

1. Ingest the images, make backups, delete duplicates

2. Cull the rejects – Adobe have recently added this functionality to Lightroom

3. Process the “Selects” in line with my development preferences

4. Write captions and keywords

5. Upload an optimised selection to my online archive

6. Process licensing enquiries and calculate fees

7. Deliver an invoice and check for completed payments

Put it this way, I’m not planning on writing any manual workflow tutorials in the near future!

The Bad?

If that seems like a great time-saving solution, I think it probably is. Either way, this picture of the future seems inevitable.

Very soon, there will be little reason to justify human involvement in the processing of digital images. Arguably, any human input will be meaningless, just one combination of adjustments from an infinite library of possibilities that AI can access instantly.

I’m choosing to gloss over the fact that AI can only be so clever because it’s been given free access to billions of digital images without asking (or compensating) the original copyright holders. That ship has long since left the harbour.

I don’t see a future where digital photographers are sitting at a screen, adjusting sliders in Lightroom or CaptureOne.

Some might argue that the human interpretation makes a difference. The photographer who made the image will know the context, understand the location, will know what the light was like at the time the image was made… all things that Artificial Intelligence cannot appreciate.

I hate to say it but the truth is, nobody cares.

Pixels will enter the process at one end, AI-manipulated images will emerge at the other, captioned and ready for distribution. Nutritionally unsavoury yet ubiquitous and inexplicably popular.

A resurgence for film photography?

My prediction, for what it’s worth, is that people who appreciate the art of photography will return to film.

To some extent, that’s already happening. Sales of film stock have increased by 15–20% each year since 2022.

There’s been a 30% increase in photography workshops devoted to film between 2022 and 2024. 68% of photography enthusiasts under the age of 35 expressed a preference for working with film. (Source: Market Growth Reports)

‘Digital fatigue’ is already a genuine condition and I see photography diverging into two clear and distinct paths in the very near future.

Digital photography will become a professional occupation with diminishing returns. This won’t be news to many professional photographers. Ask a stock photographer who was making a handsome living in the latter part of the 20th century if they’re still raking in a generous monthly commission cheque and you’re likely to get a slap.

Almost all digital images will be made on devices no larger than your smartphone. Files will be processed and distributed automatically by AI.

Meanwhile, film photographers will make a point of eliminating AI and automation from their workflow. The distinction between analogue and digital will reach the point where they’re considered two very different disciplines.

Personally, I’m excited by that prospect.

I’m looking forward to Kodak announcing the reintroduction of Kodachrome (keep the faith). I won’t shed a tear when I’m no longer obliged to sit at a computer for hours on end, editing, processing, captioning, keywording.

I’m looking forward to using a Lightbox and a magnifying loupe again, handwriting captions on tiny stickers. Perhaps I’ll finally get back into a darkroom, a prospect that delights me.

You might wonder why I’ve spent time building AI tools if I’m not overly positive about an AI-driven photographic future? Much like viewing potential places to live, one needs to look around the premises, explore the garden, and drive around the neighbourhood before deciding whether it’s a place you’d like to call home.

For now, I’m still sufficiently intrigued by AI to try and understand its potential but I’m sure the day will soon arrive when it outpaces my ability to understand it. At that point, I shall return to film, return to the darkroom, return to a satisfying analogue existence. If that day is tomorrow, I won’t be sorry.

After all, there aren’t so many empty boxes remaining in my Four Thousand Weeks chart. I might as well fill them meaningfully! 🤩

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Articles, documentaries, exhibitions, podcasts and more.

☆ Read – Is Documentary Photography at a Crossroads?

An article in Aperture magazine exploring the impact of Artificial Intelligence on Documentary photography.

The Winter 2025 edition of Aperture includes stories about “photographers who make pictures the slow way – building camera obscura, creating photograms, and labouring in traditional darkrooms to make handmade, unrepeatable forms.”

▶︎ Watch – Coded Bias

Coded Bias provides a fascinating insight into how AI algorithms are built upon skewed data, which can reinforce stereotypes and increase social exclusion.

Available on Apple TV+, Amazon Prime, and Kanopy.

✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

Subscribe now

And finally…

Does AI feature in your daily life? Are you using AI for photography? I’m keen to learn how people are using AI and to what extent it’s now commonplace. How do you feel about AI? Excited? Nervous? Let me know in the comments.

Now I’m going to share this edition with AI and ask it to provide a final observation. Yes, I’m giving AI the final word – it seems that’s our likely destiny in any case. 😬

“There is a photograph that doesn’t exist yet. You haven’t made it. No algorithm predicted it. It will come from the specific weight of a particular morning, from a decision taken at the last second, from something you noticed that no one else thought to look for. That photograph cannot be automated. It can only be waited for – and you are the only one doing the waiting.”
– Claude AI

Until next time, go well.

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◼︎ Directory: Archive of Beyond the Frame newsletters.

◼︎ Resources: Recommended books, films, gear, media etc.

A Parisian Encounter

I met a woman in Paris many years ago.

I was having lunch at Le Grand Colbert. Outside it was February, grey and raining.

The restaurant was busy, so I was not surprised when a woman sat in the unoccupied seat at my table for two.

She sat sideways on, not facing me.

Black shoes, black dress, black bobbed hair. I guessed she was in her mid-40s, but she could have been much older.

She lit a cigarette – which tells you how long ago this encounter took place.

A waiter arrived to take her order.

“Château Léoville. The ’61, not the ’63.”

She ordered with the casual confidence of somebody for whom this was not an extravagance.

She leant one elbow on the back of the chair, her cigarette aloft, as if she was holding it for an absent friend.

Without turning, but assured of my attention, she began to speak.

“You’re a photographer?”

I assumed she’d noticed my camera resting on the table.

“I am.”

She turned to face me for the first time.

“I have been searching for a metaphor.”

“Oh?” I replied. “For what?”

“For love.”

I waited.

“For joy. For hope. For friendship. For those things which appear when we expect them least but need them most.”

“I see,” I said, although, in truth, I did not.

The waiter returned and poured red wine into two glasses.

She took a sip, put her glass down, looked up and fixed me in her gaze.

“Will you help me?”

“I’m just a photographer, not a philosopher,” I stuttered.

She stubbed her cigarette into an ashtray. Looked up again.

“Of course!”

Then she stood and walked away. I watched her leave.

The waiter opened the door. She paused, looked back over her shoulder for a single beat.

The door closed behind her and she was gone.

I blinked back to earth. A daydream, surely?

I asked for “L’addition, s’il vous plaît”. When it came, the bill included the bottle of Château Léoville beside an amount that was all too real.

Nepal – some years later

Things that appear when we expect them least…

Like an umbrella on a sunny day.

At the Boudhanath Stupa in Nepal, many years before the devastating earthquake that would crack the elegant spire, a group of Buddhist monks are paying their respects to the enigmatic Buddha and his all-seeing wisdom.

There is not a cloud in the sky, but one monk holds a multi-coloured umbrella high above his head, more like an offering than as protection from the elements.

That might have been my first notable encounter with a rainbow umbrella. It’s the first one I remember photographing.

The rainbow umbrella brings an unexpected splash of colour which alters the scene and shifts my perspective.

Indonesia – a coincidence?

A different country, a different religion, another sacred site.

At the Besakih temple on the slopes of Mount Agung, a group of pilgrims have reached the summit and offer their prayers at the lotus throne.

Another rainbow umbrella is placed on the ground, facing the holy sanctuary, as if it is participating in the sacred ritual.

It’s just a few weeks since my first encounter with the rainbow umbrella in similar circumstances in Nepal. The coincidence registers.

India

Six months later, I’m walking along the ghats beside the sacred river Ganges in Varanasi. The sun is already high in the sky, sending shards of light through the haze.

The light has that level of intensity that drains all subtlety from colour. Everything is either too brightly lit or in deep shadow. I have little hope of finding gentle, nuanced scenes at this time of day.

A dot of colour in the distance catches my eye and a now-familiar rainbow-coloured circle grows larger as I walk nearer.

Sheltered from the sun, a man is reciting verses from a book. He sees me and without pausing nods an invitation for me to sit and share his shady retreat.

I quietly make photos as he continues to chant. At the conclusion of certain passages, he presses his forehead against the open pages.

Here it is again, the rainbow umbrella providing a backdrop to an act of gentle devotion. A colourful cascade of light, seemingly emanating from this devotee’s thoughtful reverie.

Thailand

The rainbow umbrella began to appear in my life with increasing regularity. Always unexpected, but never unappreciated. Like seeing an old, beloved friend in an unfamiliar location.

In the lush, green forests of northern Thailand, the rainbow umbrella came bobbing above the foliage long before the mahout and his elephant were visible.

Wherever I go…

For the past 20 years or more, the rainbow umbrella has continued to make regular appearances.

During another job in India, I see it spinning down a street towards me, apparently unaided. As it gets closer, I see four tiny legs emerge.

The second image – entirely unplanned – was licensed by a camera manufacturer for a promotional campaign. Thank you rainbow umbrella.

Occasionally tatty, sometimes misshapen, the rainbow umbrella provides protection from flooded streets to remote Himalayan trails. Mothers and daughters, carpenters and tailors, street vendors and railway workers… the rainbow umbrella has got them all covered, more or less.

Serendipity

You might wonder if the rainbow umbrella appearances are merely coincidence. That’s not unreasonable.

But I’m not so sure.

Walking from my home in Bangkok to a local supermarket, I take a short cut through an abandoned plot where off-duty street vendors leave their carts. There’s never anybody there, no homes, no offices.

After a rain shower, I discover a rainbow umbrella. It looks brand new. It’s sitting beside a puddle in the middle of the lot, as if posing, waiting for its portrait to be made.

I look around. I’m the only person here. How did it get there? Nobody knows. Does it have a message? It’s not saying.

I make the photo and carry on, leaving it where it lies. When I return, it has gone. Without the photo, I might doubt it was ever really there.

A quest fulfilled?

A metaphor, she said.

For those things which appear when we expect them least but need them most.

The rainbow umbrella is, perhaps, the closest I’ve come.

Pour elle.

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Articles, documentaries, exhibitions, podcasts and more.

☆ Read – The Reckless Women Who Changed Journalism

To mark International Women’s Day on 6 March, this article in The Atlantic introduces books which describe how women reporters, often denied the same access to stories as men, turned the limitations they faced to their advantage.

Indeed, their exclusion from the male press establishment allowed them to produce fresh perspectives and more personal approaches to journalism.

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◉ Negotiate – pricing tools for photographers

Negotiating fees for professional work or image licensing can be a delicate business.

Clients want to hire you or licence one of your images. They have a budget. You have an expectation of what would be a reasonable fee. Often neither wants to reveal the full range of what they’re willing to pay/accept. We end up dancing around and guessing. It’s not ideal.

Here are two tools that can cut through the cat and mouse games.

BidWix

Built by my friend Stéphane, creator of the excellent MyNoise project, BidWix uses a clever geometric average to suggest a fee that fits neatly into both a client’s budget and a provider’s acceptable fee range.

BidWix is free to use and offers a quick, neat, no-nonsense way for both parties to negotiate a fee that works for both sides.

You can read more about how and why BidWix was built on Stéphane’s blog.

Beyond the Frame Image Calculator

I’ve used my own method of calculating image licence fees for many years. It’s a straightforward calculation based on the intended usage, licence period, and territories covered.

For example, when a client asked to use one of my images to promote a new TV show, the licence fee was based upon the following:

1. Period = One Year

2. Print Usage = Posters + Press advertising

3. Digital Usage = Social Media + Internet advertising

4. Territory = Europe + North America + Australasia

Each usage and territory has a corresponding fee multiplier. I set a base fee and add multiples based on the specific usage.

That sounds more complicated than it actually is.

I’ve used a simple spreadsheet in the past but now I’ve built an online Beyond the Frame Image Licensing Calculator.

The calculator is free to use. Simply set your base rate, click the relevant licence duration and usages, and the suggested licence fee will be calculated automatically.

I also use the Getty Images Rights Managed price calculator to double-check that my fees are within industry standards.

The Association of Photographers has an excellent guide to image licensing, including an important reminder that there’s never any need for photographers to give away their copyright!

If you’re negotiating fees or licensing images, these two tools can remove uncertainty and eliminate the sometimes uncomfortable negotiation process.

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✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

And finally…

Whether or not it’s a winning metaphor for the sometimes unpredictable but always welcome arrival of love, joy, hope and friendship, I hope the rainbow umbrella brings a little sunshine into your life this week.

Until next time, go well.

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◼︎ Directory: Archive of Beyond the Frame newsletters.

◼︎ Resources: Recommended books, films, gear, media etc.

Enter the Darkroom

For anyone who’s ever made prints at home, this is likely to be a familiar experience.

You go into the darkroom, close the door behind you and turn on the red “safe light”.

It’s 9 am.

You start to print negatives. You experiment with different paper grades, vary exposure times, sluice prints in a developing tray, then the stop bath, fixer, and finally the wash. Then you repeat, making adjustments, fine-tuning the process.

Forty-five minutes pass before you’re done.

You switch the red light off and step outside.

Inexplicably, it’s 6 pm.

Flow

This dramatic shift in our perception of time is a characteristic of a state of mind that psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls flow.

Flow happens when we are totally immersed in an activity. Our perception of time changes, self-consciousness evaporates, we’re in a place of complete mental absorption.

Flow happens when we are living in the moment, when we are in the zone.

“Apparently the way a long-distance swimmer felt when crossing the English Channel was almost identical to the way a chess player felt during a tournament or a climber progressing up a difficult rock face.”
– Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

If you’ve watched any of the Winter Olympics, currently taking place in Italy, you will have seen many examples of athletes competing in a state of flow – and at least one who wishes they were.

I’ve just seen highlights from the disturbingly named Skeleton event. Team GB gold medal winner Matt Weston describes it as “launching yourself headfirst down a frozen water slide at up to 130 kilometres per hour on a very expensive tea tray”.

Absolute focus, split-second decision-making, peak physical effort, all honed during years of rigorous training, culminating in 56 eye-watering seconds of sporting excellence. That’s being in a state of flow.

But flow is not an experience reserved only for elite athletes. Flow can be experienced by a child immersed in building a Lego castle, by anybody fully focused on learning a musical instrument, by a gardener carefully pruning roses, or by a photographer making prints in a darkroom.

“Olympians do not have an exclusive gift in finding enjoyment in pushing performance beyond existing boundaries. Every person, no matter how unfit he or she is, can rise a little higher, go a little faster, and grow to be a little stronger. The joy of surpassing the limits of the body is open to all.”
– Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

Photography and Flow

From his extensive research, Mihaly learned that a state of flow is most likely to occur when certain conditions are met:

1. The task must be challenging but not overwhelming. It should stretch our capacity enough to require commitment and concentration.

2. Goals should be clearly defined. We need to know specifically what we’re aiming for.

3. Feedback should, ideally, be immediate so we can gauge whether our efforts are succeeding.

4. The activity should be voluntary. Perhaps this is why flow is more often reported by people engaging in sports and hobbies than it is by those sitting at office desks?

If there have been times when I’ve experienced a state of flow, they’ve mostly arrived when I’ve had a camera in my hand.

It’s not guaranteed. Indeed, flow is elusive.

Sometimes it arrives quietly, perhaps in the darkroom or when patiently waiting for what Henri Cartier-Bresson described as “a simultaneous coalition” of elements – the right light, a certain moment, a glance, a movement, an interaction.

At other times it arrives amidst noise and disorder, when the rush of energy demands that our full attention be given to a dozen different things at once.

It’s hard to predict and most likely only recognised in retrospect, when we reflect and declare, “Wow! That was fun.”

Holi

When it comes to chaotic energy, there are few events more vibrant than India’s Festival of Colour – Holi.

The Radha Rani Temple in Uttar Pradesh is packed. Thousands of devotees are jammed inside, shoulder-to-shoulder. The music is loud, the singing is louder still, the dancing is frenzied, the air is thick with coloured powder, green, yellow, purple.

This is not a place for quiet reflection. It’s a full-on, non-stop sensory overload.

I’m experimenting with shutter speeds. Too fast and movement is frozen, the sense of constant motion lost.

1/30th of a second?

1/15th?

At one and two full seconds, individuals merge into a blurred mass of humanity – which is how it appeared – no longer individuals but one multi-coloured, rhythmic, writhing entity.

I venture downstairs to the temple floor and become a part of the swirling crowd, swept this way and that without warning.

There’s too much coloured powder in the air for my camera to auto-focus and barely enough space to raise my arms, let alone check the camera settings. There’s no time, no space, no pause, only this moment.

This is the point at which instinct and muscle memory kick in.

A longer lens allows me to frame tightly. I’m hoping my manual focusing is picking out hands raised above the crowd.

A wider angle is more forgiving and gives me some hope of framing flamboyant dance moves, even though I’m within easy reach of swinging arms.

There’s a jostling intimacy; no hierarchy, everyone is a part of the same exuberant celebration. Despite the noise and the movement and the air thick with powder, it’s wonderfully good-natured and uplifting. I’m swept up in the euphoria.

At times the frenzy calms a little. Large groups of musicians, doused in yellow and orange, enter the hall and sit to play.

I take the opportunity to sit with them, finding faces to bring some sense of the individuals who are a part of the crowd.

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The frenzied flow

In retrospect, there’s no alternative to being in the moment in a situation like this.

There’s no time to think and little space to move. But I don’t think “hitting and hoping” would be a successful strategy. It’s necessary to be aware of several things at once: the ebb and flow of the crowd, one’s position within it, camera settings, framing (as far as possible).

There’s also the safety aspect. Large crowds can be unpredictable. Am I in the way? Am I interfering too much in the proceedings? Is my presence appropriate?

Fortunately, in this joyful celebration, everybody is welcome if they bring a smile and some intriguing dance moves. All my dance moves are intriguing and I couldn’t help but smile so I was fine.

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Feel the flow

Holi lasts several days and I’ve documented many of the peripheral activities. I spent about two hours in the main hall of the Radha Rani temple when celebrations are at their most intense. It felt more like six. When so much is happening so rapidly, time expands.

Mihaly describes one of the components of flow as “a deep but effortless involvement that removes from awareness the worries and frustrations of everyday life.”

It’s fair to say that during Holi, the worries and frustrations of everyday life were the last thing on my mind.

Does flow make better photographs?

Most photographs are made outside a state of flow, in my experience.

It’s rare to be so fully engaged that we are completely in the moment. The necessary conditions do not readily coalesce and they can be hard to manufacture.

I don’t think work made from a flow state is necessarily better. Perhaps the value of flow in photography isn’t in the finished photograph but in the act of making it. It’s found when we abandon our need to measure the passing of time, in those moments when we forget ourselves and direct our attention outward.

Our modern, social-media world has been engineered to fracture our attention into fleeting seconds. Opportunities to be fully immersed in a task are increasingly rare. That may be reason enough to seek them out.

Want more flow in your life?

In his book, Flow, Mihaly describes ways in which we can increase our capacity for flow.

If you’re interested in learning more, I can recommend the book. It’s thoughtful and insightful, explains findings from his research in layman’s terms.

If you’d like a guaranteed place to find a flow state but the thought of training for an Olympic Skeleton run doesn’t appeal, then I’ll meet you at the Radha Rani temple.

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Articles, documentaries, exhibitions, podcasts and more.

❖ Pitch – Visa pour l’Image

Professional photographers are invited to submit reportage projects to be screened or exhibited at the 2026 edition of Visa pour l’Image in Perpignan, France.

▶︎ Watch – Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s TED talk

☆ Read – Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

The psychologist reveals what he’s learned about the “psychology of optimal experience.”

✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

And finally…

I’m moving this week. Leaving bustling Bangkok for gentle Geneva. Swapping sunshine for snow.

Wherever you are and whatever the weather, I hope you find some moments of undistracted attention.

Until next time, flow well.

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◼︎ Directory: Archive of Beyond the Frame newsletters.

◼︎ Resources: Recommended books, films, gear, media etc.

Last week, I laid out the cameras, lenses and bags I carry. This week, I’m thinking about the things we can’t see.

Having the right gear matters. And there are few photographers who won’t talk enthusiastically – and at length – about lenses and camera bags.

But the less tangible things we’re carrying might shape our photographs far more than any piece of hardware ever could.

Here are six things we all carry, each of which is worth recognising and weighing.

Identity

We all carry a sense of who we are, and often a sense of who other people tell us we are. Professionally, we might describe ourselves as a street photographer or a photojournalist, and then conform to the definition we’ve created, and that editors and clients have come to expect.

Having received praise – and occasionally payment – for a certain look or approach, we might be tempted to keep repeating it, seeking more endorsements, wary of stepping off a proven path.

Consistency in our work is a plus. But it can come at the expense of curiosity and experimentation.

It’s worth asking how we’re defining our identity in our work, and whether we’re brave enough, occasionally, to step beyond it. The question is: “I know who I am supposed to be. Who else might I become?”

Expectations

When we set out to make images, we might have a particular scene or event in mind. It’s natural to visualise in advance. We instinctively set expectations about the weather, the quality of the light, how busy it will be… We’re making photos in our mind’s eye long before we arrive.

Expectations can give direction and purpose. We build a mental framework. But they can also narrow our vision, prevent us from responding to the unexpected, because we’re trying to force our expectations onto events which might look very different from what we’d envisaged.

Visualising in advance helps our planning. But nothing stifles creativity faster than inflexible expectations.

As Anaïs Nin suggested (above), our preconceptions can radically alter the way we perceive the world. A willingness to accept and adapt when our expectations don’t align with the real world makes life smoother – and our creative energies more productive.

Assumptions

Where our expectations attempt to predict the future, our assumptions define what we believe already is.

We apply labels to people and places as a way of managing complexity.

“This street is uninteresting.”

“That person won’t speak with me.”

“There won’t be enough light after sunset.”

If we’re not careful, we can end up photographing our preconceptions instead of what’s actually in front of us.

“That person is shy.”

“This story is tragic.”

The difficulty is that assumptions rarely announce themselves. They feel like facts.

Sometimes the antidote to assumptions is simple: we stay a little longer, ask more questions, invite other opinions, find images where we thought there were none.

We try, as Proust suggests, to see with new eyes.

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Confidence

If you think imposter syndrome is an emotional obstacle that only a few people experience, take heart from the words of two of the most successful people in their field.

“Something that is real to all of us: the sharp terror of a loss of confidence in ourselves. No matter who we are, no matter what we’ve done, there comes a point where you think how did I get here? And how am I going to be able to continue this? When are they going to discover that I am, in fact, a fraud and take everything away from me?”
– Tom Hanks

“I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out.’”
– Maya Angelou

Of all the intangible things we might be carrying, self-doubt can be the most weighty.

In my experience, there’s no simple remedy. The best I can offer is this:

If Tom Hanks and Maya Angelou feel it too, you’re in fine company. Do what they do:

Turn up.

Do the work.

When you’ve finished, the imposter syndrome might still be present. But so too will the work. And that is enough.

Emotions

We also carry, wherever we go, our mood.

Tired after a long journey? Irritated by traffic? Rushing because the light is failing? Fumbling with accessories because nothing seems to work properly? Upset because it’s raining or delighted because the sun has come out?

The world is the world. But how we meet it differs from day to day, hour to hour, influenced by our prevailing emotions.

I know that the photographs we make – definitely the photographs I make – reveal not only what was in front of us but also what was inside us.

If there were a potion capable of managing all emotional states, I’m sure we would all buy a bottle. Apparently, there isn’t. What I can offer is a simple reminder that we should take a moment to check our mood as well as our shutter speeds.

We are, after all, the piece of picture-making mechanics with the greatest influence on the results.

Moral Responsibility

A camera gives us the power to frame stories, to include or exclude, to emphasise or diminish. That power is not neutral. It comes with a degree of responsibility.

It’s not difficult to misrepresent a scene. Thoughtful (or thoughtless) framing, wide-angle or telephoto lenses to alter spatial relationships, timing to make elements appear to coincide… the tools are readily available.

Photography is inescapably subjective and good intentions alone are not always enough. Authentic storytelling requires awareness of context, of consent, and of where power lies.

In particular, the way we represent people should, in my opinion, come from a place of respect and empathy. It is a tremendous privilege to photograph another person.

It’s a privilege I have enjoyed countless times and it always leaves me feeling humbled. We ask a lot when we point a camera at a person, especially strangers. There has to be an exchange, a balancing. Even if it’s only a smile and a nod of appreciation, without some acknowledgment of what’s been given, we will only ever be taking and remain forever in deficit.

“When I approach people, I do it with respect, with deference; I do it slowly and gently and I think about the way I move, the way I speak and the way I use the camera. I let them know that I respect them and what they’re going through.”
– James Nachtwey

“If you take a picture of a human that does not make him noble, there is no reason to take this picture. That is my way of seeing things.”
– Sebastião Salgado

Every photograph makes a claim about how the world looks. Our responsibility is to ensure our claims are made with care and compassion.

What we carry

We spend a lot of time thinking about what gear we carry. We analyse the weight, measure the sharpness of our lenses, test the reliability of the mechanics… But I think the unseen things weigh more. They’re always present. They shape how we see, influence how we engage, and affect the outcome of our photography more than any physical gear.

It’s true that the camera is in our hands. We control the mechanics. But images are taking shape long before the shutter is released – in the mind and in the character of the person holding it.

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Articles, documentaries, exhibitions, podcasts and more.

☆ Read – Emotions and creativity

A review in Psychology Today of the recently published Cambridge Handbook of Creativity and Emotions. I haven’t read the book but I did find the article posed some thought-provoking questions.

◉ Listen – Tom Hanks interview

The Tom Hanks quote (above) comes from a 2016 NPR interview. He’s always an excellent interviewee; thoughtful, authentic, straightforward.

❖ See – The Photography & Video Show, UK

Should you be in need of a gear fix, the Photography and Video Show takes place at the NEC in Birmingham, UK next month. Standard tickets are £18.95, professionals free.

✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

Subscribe now

And finally…

I’ll be honest, I found it much easier to write about gear! There’s no resistance to describing lenses and camera bags. Writing about intangible elements has not been so straightforward. They’re so… intangible.

However, just between us, I’ve found it more rewarding to consider the other, invisible things that we all carry.

One of the best things about writing a newsletter happens when I learn something in the process. That happens more often than not. Trying to shape abstract concepts that you kind of know but have never formulated is a useful exercise. I hope it’s rung some bells.

Until next time, go well.

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◼︎ Directory: Archive of Beyond the Frame newsletters.

◼︎ Resources: Recommended books, films, gear, media etc.

My friends at Shotkit reminded me that it’s been five years since I updated my gear list, hence this review. The photo above shows my current, “essential” gear.

I have similar images showing my gear in 2009 and 2014. Some things have changed but the core components have remained pretty consistent.

You’ll notice that I’ve reduced the amount of gear I’m using. It’s the result of careful pruning, eliminating anything that can’t genuinely be classified as a must-have.

Accessories have changed, gear has been replaced, but the foundations have stayed the same:

• Two main camera bodies

• 15mm to 200mm focal length range – with various lenses

• Wide apertures – ƒ1.2 or ƒ/2.8

I’m reminded that I was still using a dedicated GPS tracker for geotagging images in 2009. These days GPS data is recorded directly in many cameras.

The mobile phone has become invaluable for recording information, voice notes, creating reminders, navigation – and now it’s essential for storing tickets and boarding passes.

However, left to its own devices, the phone can also be a massive pain in the arse. I turn all but the most critical notifications off, otherwise it behaves like a mewling infant, demanding constant attention. I do not have any social media apps installed, valuing what’s left of my brain.

It’s been a 30-year process of fine-tuning, continuing to work with trusted equipment that’s proved to be reliable, eliminating gear that proves to be superfluous or – the worst sin – has failed at a critical moment.

The 2026 Essential List

• Canon R3 mirrorless + 3 lenses

• Leica M rangefinder + 3 lenses

• Leica D-Lux 8 compact

• Accessories

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Full disclosure

I’m not sponsored by any camera, accessory or bag manufacturers. This is a review of gear that I use because it works for me. I’ve included affiliate links to relevant B&H Photo product pages below.

All of this equipment has been used over an extended period. I was going to say “used and abused” but, actually, I take very good care of my camera gear (and get better resale value as a result!)

Speaking of trading camera gear, I’m pleased to announce that MPB have joined Beyond the Frame as a sponsorship partner. I’ll explain how MPB works in a future edition but if you’re buying or selling camera gear, or even if you just want to check the resale value of your cameras and lenses, I’d recommend seeing what MPB has to offer.

Canon EOS R3 Mirrorless Kit

Why I trust it

The Canon EOS R3 is my workhorse camera. I’ve used EOS cameras for 30+ years. They are rugged and reliable. I don’t remember an occasion when one has let me down.

I use the traditional trio of 15–35mm, 24–70mm, and 70–200mm lenses. All ƒ/2.8 through the range. I also have a 28mm ‘pancake’ lens as a very lightweight option.

At this end of the EOS range, Canon cameras are chunky, vertical grips are part of the body, buttons and dials are duplicated, so they fall in the same position beneath fingers whether the camera is held horizontally or vertically.

It’s professional kit for professional jobs and this is what I take on commercial assignments.

What I would improve

The R3 reintroduced Canon’s eye-controlled focus, a system I really liked in the old film EOS 5. But, much as I persist with it and assume that when it fails it’s probably my fault, it’s fiddly as all buggery – as granny would have said. The focus point follows your eye when you look through the viewfinder. That’s great in principle but when it flicks from one side of the frame to the other unexpectedly… let’s just say that’s sub-optimal. So, regrettably, I’ve turned it off. I don’t know if that’s a manufacturing or software glitch or just that it doesn’t suit my eyes – it’s probably the latter. If it worked consistently, I’d be delighted.

Another modern problem: after so many technical advances, the menu options on many cameras have become bewildering. To be fair, Canon menus are better organised than some I’ve used, which can be a dog’s dinner (Hello Sony, I’m looking at you), but there are just so many menus to scroll through that remembering where one particular setting can be found is a challenge.

I don’t know what can be done about that. Ideally, I’d like to remove 70% of the functions, which I’ll never use – but, inexplicably, Canon don’t make their cameras for me alone and they have to work for every potential use.

Nevertheless, Canon EOS cameras have been my first choice for commercial work for decades and I don’t expect that to change.

Leica M Rangefinder Kit

Why I trust it

I know Leica gear is expensive and you’ll often find people comparing Leica cameras and lenses to cheaper models and asking whether the expense can be justified. For me, a Leica rangefinder does something few other cameras do: it gets out of the way.

Yes, Leica cameras are precision tools and the image quality from Leica lenses is second to none. You’d be right to expect exceptional quality for the cost of Leica gear.

But more importantly for me, a Leica rangefinder maintains the essential controls of photography with no complications. You won’t find a host of confusing buttons, dials and joysticks on a Leica.

I’m currently using a Leica M11, with these lenses:

• 28mm Summilux

• 50mm Summicron

• 90mm Summicron

• Plus, occasionally, a Visoflex 2 viewfinder.

I typically use Aperture Priority mode and this is the process:

1. Set the aperture. Twisting the aperture ring on the lens is a tactile, physical movement that moves the aperture blades. It feels more like direct control than turning a digital dial.

2. Frame the image. I sometimes use the Visoflex viewfinder attachment but prefer the traditional, optical, bright-line rangefinder.

3. Focus. Again, a manual twist of a focussing ring on the lens. Direct and immediate. No autofocus hunting for contrast.

4. Click the shutter release.

That’s it. The camera doesn’t demand my attention. I can concentrate fully on the subject, wait, anticipate and be more directly engaged with the scene.

What I would improve

The Leica M is not a high-speed sports camera or a long-range, predictive-focussing wildlife camera. It’s a camera built for the street, for reportage, for photojournalism. It’s unobtrusive, quiet and efficient – much like myself.

A Leica does what it’s best at without fuss and so there’s little to improve. It’s a truism that you get what you pay for so whilst the investment is not modest, I’ve never regretted buying Leica gear.

Leica D-Lux 8 Compact Camera

Why I trust it

The compact Leica D-Lux 8 is the camera I carry everywhere. It’s replaced my phone for quick photos because it’s genuinely pocket-sized, has an impressive optical zoom range, and the image quality is excellent for a camera with a Micro Four-Thirds sensor. I can use it in full manual mode, which I prefer. Full control, great image quality, a versatile zoom range, wide maximum apertures – and the tiny flash that accompanies the camera is too cute for words.

What I would improve

If the D-Lux 8 had a flip-out LCD screen, the camera would be perfect in many ways. It’s the one thing about the camera that I most hope to see added to future models.

Supplementary Gear

Audio

• Zoom H1 2-Track 32-Bit Float Portable Audio Recorder For interviews and ambient audio recordings

• Wired headphones For monitoring sound levels

• AirPods Pro + AirPods Max (not pictured)

Accessories

• Air-Blower – to remove dust from lenses

• Calibrite ColorChecker Passport Photo 2 for accurate colour reproduction and white balance.

• Swiss Army knife – I’ve always carried one but now, as a Swiss resident, it would be rude not to.

• Spare batteries and chargers

• iPhone and MagSafe battery pack

• Passports and Press ID

Bags

The perfect camera bag is the Holy Grail for photographers. Ideally, it should be the perfect size to accommodate your gear, bring specific lenses and accessories to the top of the bag as you need them (some magic required), be entirely weightless and virtually invisible.

I’m still searching.

Until I discover the Nirvana Camera Bag, I’ll continue to use the bags that come closest.

Think Tank Airport Navigator

• Think Tank Airport Navigator – I’ve had this carry-on airline bag for many years. It has an uncanny ability to accommodate more gear than looks possible from the outside. It’s a TARDIS.

• The best feature: A top opening that allows me to pull a camera directly from the bag, lens attached, and start work without needing to unpack

PhotoCross 13

• PhotoCross 13 sling bag – A relatively recent addition, I’m a big fan of this bag. It’s large enough to accommodate my Canon gear but spreads weight across the back so I’ve never found it to be uncomfortable.

• It’s weatherproof – a big plus.

• It has luggage/tripod straps and a pocket for a water bottle. Why more camera bags don’t have space for a water bottle is a mystery to me.

• It’s possible to swing the bag around in front and it’s cleverly designed to open away from the body, providing easy access to gear and a secure platform for changing lenses.

Tumi Rucksack

• Whilst it’s not marketed as a camera bag, I’ve had this Tumi rucksack (backpack) for about eight years and it’s the bee’s knees.

• It has a large laptop pocket, just enough space for pretty much all my camera gear – at a push, plenty of extra pockets, including a nifty drop pocket behind the handle, perfect for a phone and passports.

• This particular bag appears to be made from some other-worldly material that barely shows any signs of wear. After eight years, most bags would be looking pretty shabby. Not so the Tumi.

• Tumi bags are wickedly expensive and I would never have bought one ordinarily. However, Mrs. G. once found Tumi bags at some crazily discounted price and bought this one because, she said, “the green matches your eyes.” I continue to be, in all things, blessed.

A final thought about gear

Ultimately, the value of any photographic equipment doesn’t depend on specifications, brand recognition or hefty price tags, but on how quietly and dependably it helps us make the photographs we want.

The tools I’ve learned to trust are those that don’t demand attention. The best camera gear fades into the background, allowing us to concentrate fully on timing, perspective, composition and light.

Having the right gear matters – of course it does – but only insofar as it allows us to stay present and engaged without interruption.

Our attention is always going to be our most precious resource. Good camera gear leaves our attention where it serves us best – our photography.

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Beyond the Frame Recommendations

Articles, documentaries, exhibitions, podcasts and more.

☆ Read – Shotkit

There are more than 1,300 other photographers on the Shotkit website, each sharing photos and descriptions of their gear. The Photojournalism and Travel categories are especially interesting.

⦿ Learn – Three camera-buying tips

Here’s a reliable, three-point, gear-buying mantra:

1. Invest in experiences first. Spending money on a trip to a new destination can be more productive than buying more gear. New experiences trigger ideas and build motivation. If existing gear works well enough, use precious resources to go places instead of buying more kit.

2. Reliability beats brilliance. The best camera gear works reliably every time. Better to have an uncomplicated camera that does exactly what you need, when you need it, than the latest all-singing, all-dancing model with so many options that it’s just confusing.

3. Fewer options = clearer decisions. I would rather work with one lens than with 20. When we’re not faced with so many choices, we can concentrate on what’s important: the subject and the light.

PS – To spare his blushes, I should point out that my friend Frank does not actually carry this many cameras. During a photo workshop in Bhutan, we loaded Frank up with all the students’ cameras so he could make a group photo – and also because it amused us greatly. Simple things…

▶︎ Watch – Photographer retrieves stolen camera gear

Benj Haisch’s camera gear was stolen but he was able to locate it by tracking an AirTag. His encounter with the thieves turned out well, thankfully.

It’s a reminder that attaching a trackable device to camera gear is simple but potentially effective.

1. I’d recommend contacting the police if you ever find yourself in a similar situation. Benj’s encounter turned out OK but it could have been very different.

2. I attach these AirTag holders directly to my camera straps, so the camera is trackable, not just the camera bag.

✤ Create

A series of creative prompts, inspired by Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies, and designed with photographers in mind.

Read more about the concept and learn how to use my Oblique Strategies for Photographers.

Subscribe now

And finally…

Now it’s time to put all that trusted camera gear to good use. Thai elections are coming up at the weekend. Chinese New Year will follow soon after.

I can’t remember which photographer said, when asked, “What’s your favourite photo?”

“The next one!”

Whoever said it before, I’m also saying it again now.

I hope you are looking forward to your next photo.

Until next time, go well.

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◼︎ Directory: Archive of Beyond the Frame newsletters.

◼︎ Resources: Recommended books, films, gear, media etc.

I’ve taught photography to hundreds of adults, in classes and workshops. But when it comes to teaching photography to children, I’m often the one who ends up learning the most.

Seedlight

The Seedlight project came about, as all the best things do, from a moment of serendipity – and from meeting one child in particular, Hayat, who I will introduce later on.

In 2010 and 2011, my time was divided between assignments for NGOs and teaching adult photography workshops. Many of my NGO clients work on projects benefitting children from disadvantaged backgrounds. I often share photos with the kids, either by scrolling through frames on the camera’s LCD screen or by making instant photos to hand out. The kids also enjoy using my cameras to make their own photos of their friends and classmates.

I recognise how much enjoyment children get from playing with cameras, and how proud they are to share their pictures with friends. What if I brought photography workshops into the NGO projects I was documenting?

And so the Seedlight project was born.

With contributions from generous family and friends, I buy 24 point-and-shoot digital cameras and tag a week or two onto the end of an assignment. Working with the NGOs, we distribute cameras to the children and set up easy-to-follow photography lessons.

I’ve taken the project to Cambodia, Nepal, Bangladesh, Thailand, Kenya and Ethiopia.

It’s a simple premise. We help the kids learn basic photography skills. The cameras are donated for them to keep. They use them at school and take them home, documenting whatever appeals to them.

We print the photos and the children select their favourites, which they compile into an exhibition in their school or orphanage, for friends and family to admire.

We try to keep the process as straightforward as possible and place very few restrictions on the children. It’s an opportunity for them to explore and express themselves through a creative endeavour.

The NGOs I work with are often small and work with very modest funding. Staff work hard to provide food, clothing and essential medicines. Artistic pursuits are a luxury that the children are rarely afforded and photography is, understandably, not a priority. But I know that a camera can be a liberating tool, bringing confidence where it is sometimes hard won.

Addis Ababa

I’m sharing short descriptions and photos from four of the children, residents at an orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I hope they will give a sense of what the children get out of the experience. And I hope you will enjoy seeing the kids’ photos as much as I know they enjoyed making them.

Yohannes

“He speaks through his eyes”, was what one of his friends told me when I first met Yohannes. What better trait for an artist?

Yohannes is one of life’s natural observers. He’s friendly but rarely the centre of attention, often found caring for the pigeons that roost in an abandoned cupboard at the far end of the orphanage playground.

Putting a camera into Yohannes’ hands produced a perfect illustration of the project’s aims. Providing him with a new way of interacting with the world allowed him to express himself creatively, without the tiresome demands of having to speak.

The camera allowed the rest of us to see the world through Yohannes’ eyes. A world of quiet, unhurried observation. An uninteresting shelf of threadbare shoes becomes a study of bold lines and earthy textures. We watch a boy playing with a ball, Yohannes sees the shadow on the wall.