tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5910814173827198332012-02-13T14:56:26.436Zbuying the ticket, taking the ride.Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.comBlogger601100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-5785186664733033722012-02-05T22:29:00.000Z2012-02-06T09:20:58.729Z

On the coast where I live it rarely snows. But on the occasions it does, I particularly love it when the fall starts in darkness. You're gradually aware that the outside world is on mute. No cars, few voices, a blanket of quiet. I had sworn all day that it would pass north and south of us, as it so often does, but I was glad to be wrong. Looking out from the office at the top of the house,

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-56341853708804312602012-02-02T17:58:00.001Z2012-02-02T22:55:02.105Z

Welcome to Earth.... start buying things.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-31835692993180682172012-02-02T17:50:00.001Z2012-02-02T22:55:50.941Z

Overgrown car on a driveway in South East London.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-36938305469258958972012-02-02T17:46:00.000Z2012-02-02T22:56:11.009Z

Diptych of a flashing neon sign in Dublin bearing the legend, "Why go Bald".

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-83034528126425194732011-11-10T10:54:00.000Z2011-11-10T10:54:05.480Z

A splash of colour from an autumnal ginkgo tree.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-88825053786826804322011-10-26T06:51:00.003+01:002011-10-26T07:13:13.223+01:00

The Skyline. The skyline? Isn't that a bit obvious? Well, yes and no. It is New York's 'face' after all and a fitting place to conclude this brief series. The skyline, like the city itself, is not one thing. With as many facets as there are angles to view it, and all of them wondrous and brutal. Whether you see it on foot from ground level, rising above the foliage of Central Park or from the

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-15723504934887934672011-10-25T19:42:00.001+01:002011-10-25T19:43:17.302+01:00

The City that never sleeps.... Even when the residents do. One of the things that has endured is the sense of round-the-clock endeavor. No mater what time it is or where you are in New York, you are never more a than a few meters away from someone working. Day 6 - 3 am in a pizza restaurant off Christopher Street, one of the customers slumps on the table next to a slice of pizza. Tiredness

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-31352548513578709722011-10-24T06:47:00.000+01:002011-10-24T08:42:44.919+01:00

The cab home. "Shall we walk.... or do we have time to take a cab?" was another of those great New York truisms offered as wisdom to help my transition from tourist to resident. But late at night there is something at once decadent and comforting about whistling through the city.  Day 5 - Heading south, Fifth avenue stretching relentlessly green in front of us as we ate the blocks from

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-13168442315601475152011-10-23T17:12:00.001+01:002011-10-23T17:15:48.290+01:00

The Bronx. Maybe this is the borough that represents the closest thing I have found so far to that elusive feeling of New York. A feeling, an atmosphere that in truth, had nearly vanished from most of Manhattan even by the time I arrived in 1991 and was certainly a rare and precious commodity less than a decade later when I departed. I still can't describe adequately what it is, but you know it

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-26377880899322530632011-10-23T16:50:00.002+01:002011-10-25T18:29:13.201+01:00

Again, the light. My father always used to say that wherever there's a traffic jam, you'll find a policeman trying to direct the cars. Not Here! A tricky junction, nearby street closures, one woman with a will of iron making it all run like butter in the sun. Day 4 - West 14th at 9th Ave. The low sun of the evening bouncing in every direction.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-81733816207505662082011-10-23T16:42:00.000+01:002011-10-23T17:18:46.220+01:00

To be young in NY. It is often said, though I don't know who first coined the phrase, that New York is only for "The very rich, the very poor and the very young." It's not true of course but I was quoted this by a long-time resident when I first arrived. He asserted that when I fell between these three groups I should leave. Day 4 - A young couple kissing on the uptown 3 train, just after

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-61620278799476062762011-10-23T16:30:00.000+01:002011-10-23T17:19:13.651+01:00

Constant change. As the old joke goes, "New York is an amazing city.... its going to be FANTASTIC when it's finished!" Of course, it will never be finished, constant tearing-up, rebuilding and alteration is a big part of its allure. Day 4 - A sidewalk on on Gansvoort Street, cobbles, tarmac, cement, concrete, hardboard, duct-tape, utilty line markings. History displayed like the rings of a

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-89347141478487232942011-10-23T15:59:00.000+01:002011-10-23T16:19:37.839+01:00

The Light. A sunny autumn morning in New York leaves you with the sense that you could achieve anything. The colours, the reflections, the limitless possibilities. Day 4 - A yellow cab barrels along Washington Street under the southern end of the High Line, reflected in the window of a florist. 

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-75773538627243297292011-10-22T14:12:00.000+01:002011-10-23T16:19:37.832+01:00

Flags. The very first thing I really learned about America is how the "Stars and Stripes" is so much more than a symbol in the national psyche. It is something woven into the very fabric of being American. I have never seen more or bigger flags anywhere in the world than in the US. Day 3 - A construction site on 14th Street. Nobody working at this time of night but the flag is still lit

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-30888249909683958082011-10-22T13:57:00.004+01:002011-10-26T12:56:04.127+01:00

Coffee. Before the chains of interchangeable multinational beverage shops became ubiquitous in New York, there used to be little places that served what they described as coffee. Not 'latte' or 'cappuccino' or 'grande soya de-caff mocha' but its straightforward, unadorned cousin. Your choices were, black or white, sugar or not. Sometimes it was great, sometimes it was battery acid but it was

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-3764570906929745192011-10-21T19:59:00.001+01:002011-10-23T16:19:37.823+01:00

Baseball caps. For me, a Yankees cap always looks vaguely fraudulent anywhere outside of New York... Irrespective of how committed a fan the wearer might be. Day 2 - My friends' son, staring curiously into the lens. Barely at pre-school and already a Yankees fan. Pinstripe in the genes.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-22547790740602230212011-10-21T19:36:00.003+01:002011-10-23T16:19:37.807+01:00

In August I travelled to America for the first time in over a decade. I found New York in particular to have changed a great deal. Of course it's absurd to expect places to remain when we ourselves change constantly. So, on this visit I decided to photograph anything that evoked some kind of memory for me - whether real or imagined. Day 1 - Croton on Hudson - Even though I've never been

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-21020491844984721312011-10-20T00:55:00.000+01:002011-10-27T23:02:47.284+01:00

A few weeks ago, during what was an almost freakishly warm late September, I had the opportunity to go out on assignment foraging for wild foods with one of the most knowledgeable people in the country, Miles Irving.  Miles has not only written one of the best books on the subject but also has a company that supplies foraged foods to top restaurants around the country and there was a

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-27310562763042197252011-10-11T09:05:00.003+01:002011-10-21T20:08:16.840+01:00

Three days ago (7th October) it was announced that this year's Nobel Peace prize was to be shared by three remarkable women , Leymah Gbowee, Tawakkul Karman and Liberian president Ellen Johnson Sirleaf. Back in February 2006, I had the priveledge of meeting and photographing President Sirleaf while I was in Monrovia, covering the rehabilitation of child soldiers in Liberia for the Sunday

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-51212413962859992292011-09-19T19:28:00.000+01:002011-10-27T12:18:56.135+01:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an Afghan fighter in possession of a good pair of boots, must be in want of a tale to tell about them. October 19th 2006. About halfway through our climb to Osama's former compound in Tora Bora, we stopped for water and a quick break to check our position on the map. Our guides (and guards) were a mixture of local tribal militia and the regional

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-18533034017505557722011-09-16T23:51:00.000+01:002011-09-20T16:12:52.815+01:00

First trip to New York in over a decade. As I arrived the heavens opened. In the back of the cab, with the rain lashing against the roof I waved the camera at arms length in the general direction of the storm. Squeezed the shutter just as lightning forked across the sky - pure fluke. Given the choice between good and lucky, I'll take lucky every time.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-63870392432943670322011-09-14T00:03:00.000+01:002011-09-15T09:06:22.381+01:00

19th March 2011 Taxi rank near the Calls in Leeds. Saveloy and chips anyone? After my last two, reasonably long, posts addressing serious issues it seemed like a good time to publish something light-hearted for balance.  Earlier this year I helped friend, colleague and namesake Justin Leighton on a big advertising shoot. Multi-city, three week assignments are not common and so he decided

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-22563364851997704052011-09-12T17:49:00.002+01:002011-09-12T18:46:29.119+01:00

I was not there. I did not witness, first-hand, the chilling scenes. Did not taste the acrid sting of smoke and all things man-made turned to powder. Did not photograph the heart-rending plight of those that jumped to their death rather than face the inferno. Did not record for posterity, all the permutations and combinations of grief, heroism, despair and brotherhood. And yet I felt it.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-61083748625015147672011-09-04T22:38:00.004+01:002011-09-21T23:32:28.709+01:00

Is there such a thing as bad publicity? The events of the last week have made me wonder. A video I shot has been widely watched but has three times as many 'dislikes' as 'likes'. Naturally I have to wonder, how did this happen? Banksy mural 'Stop and Search' cut down and sat in a Bethlehem back-yard. Late last year, I embarked on a project to document the journey of two Banksy murals from

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-88925809988169737172011-06-27T23:48:00.000+01:002011-09-12T18:40:42.133+01:00

This post is not displaying correctly at present but will be returned to normal as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-49551436623721529142011-04-02T18:25:00.019+01:002011-09-14T00:07:23.853+01:00

Mostly, when you actually meet and photograph a public figure you quickly find yourself changing your previously held opinion of them. The side that seldom emerges in the spotlight of the TV camera often reveals itself in the more relaxed environment of an interview or portrait shoot. This is probably never truer than in politics. So much currently rests on public perception and so many of

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-33488856215035636502011-01-30T18:56:00.018Z2011-09-08T12:49:08.829+01:00

When I was growing up there were very few highly visible Scientists. But about the most visible of all, (possibly even from space!) was Patrick Moore. His rapid-fire delivery and astonishing knowledgeability always gave the impression that there was so much inside his head that it kept squirting out as though his skull could no longer constrain it. Of course he is SIR Patrick Moore now

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-83962080620301921812011-01-29T17:34:00.002Z2011-09-20T16:13:19.595+01:00

Waiting for a late night connecting train in the freezing cold.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-20077286402252942992010-11-29T17:54:00.015Z2011-09-08T10:56:41.996+01:00

A fortnight ago I posted about Eid in Jerusalem and received a very interesting comment from Dominic Tyler about the way in which different kinds of photographers approach photojournalism. To those uninitiated with the British journalistic slang, a Fireman is someone who travels to foreign countries to cover stories, often at short notice and in response to a breaking news story or emerging

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-7878936215843540042010-11-16T20:54:00.012Z2011-09-08T10:49:02.182+01:00

The photographic language of the middle east is so often tied up in the most dramatic incidents and extreme behavior. On both sides of the political and ideological divide photographers have inevitably been seduced both by the horror of violence and the mawkish romance of suffering. I have been guilty of this too. My first assignment in Israel and the West Bank in late 2000 was filled with

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-29028250842486309102010-11-14T17:26:00.010Z2011-09-05T00:51:38.762+01:00

David Bailey has probably forgotten more about Portrait photography than I will ever know and for that reason his cardinal rule that your subject should never have their hands on their face unless it is for very dramatic effect has been a guiding principle for me in all instances. But on a gorgeous sunny autumn morning a few weeks ago in Primrose hill I broke his rule (and mine) and lived to

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-74588299023551608302010-10-19T17:48:00.006+01:002011-09-08T10:49:33.957+01:00

Shot in June and held until October! But a nice DPS at the end so....

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-89387529383798591042010-10-15T11:30:00.015+01:002011-09-08T10:50:11.038+01:00

When I set out last Thursday my schedule looked pretty leisurely. One profile portrait in the late morning and one in the late afternoon and clear space in between to ingest, do an initial edit and acquire from raw. But Schedules have a habit of sliding. Job one gets put back an hour Job two becomes job three and then hey presto! at the last minute a fourth portrait has to be filleted into

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-61895941417857938552010-10-08T01:28:00.005+01:002011-09-08T10:50:37.244+01:00

Just had my fix of caffeine at the Monmouth coffee shop. Steps away I see this torn poster and the bricked up frames to avoid the old window tax. Compelling but simultaneously creepy. Light's just right. One shot, wide open, walk on.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-11348797637563299242010-10-05T08:37:00.023+01:002011-09-08T10:51:51.307+01:00

Even though I live in north-east Kent and frequently travel across the marshes riding the train to London, I have never actually spent any time walking there. On sharp autumn mornings they are quite stunning in their stark beauty but, like much that is close at hand, there is a tendency to take it for granted. And to my shame, I've never explored them. So it felt like fortune was smiling

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-83134572671947323472010-09-26T20:45:00.013+01:002011-09-15T23:44:38.081+01:00

Four years ago, on assignment for the Sunday Times Magazine, I had the rare and almost certainly unrepeatable experience of visiting the mountains of Tora Bora on the border between Afghanistan and the tribal areas of Pakistan. Specifically we were to visit the abandoned camp where Osama Bin Laden had made his stronghold and from which he had escaped in the closing weeks of 2001 to the

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-74743359934929400252010-09-15T16:39:00.012+01:002011-09-20T11:51:56.863+01:00

As strange as it was lining-up to enter the Taylor Wessing prize (see "Showering in public") it pales in comparison with the experience of collecting work that didn't get selected. What a difference in atmosphere! Gone was the swagger, the passive aggressiveness the "not daring to hope" crackle of expectation and in its place the dole-queue drudgery of those whose dreams have been stamped

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-2749676076145072052010-09-04T19:10:00.008+01:002011-09-20T16:15:18.055+01:00

Much has been written in recent years about the creeping restrictions being imposed on photographers. Security staff and Police seem to be only too keen to wade in and try to prevent photographers from going about their lawful business, especially in areas where the distinction between "private property" and "public right of way" is a bit hazy. The security at Canary Wharf and Broadgate are

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-13054892002855722072010-09-03T19:16:00.012+01:002011-09-20T16:16:41.492+01:00

Since hearing that I did NOT make it into this years Taylor Wessing selection (See post 8th August post - Showering in public) a new attitude toward my portraiture has preoccupied my thoughts. It has occurred that my reliance on available light is causing me to repeat the same picture over and over. So when I was given an assignment to photograph Labour Leadership contender David Miliband,

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-68599261630294965042010-08-24T17:56:00.013+01:002011-09-20T16:15:18.059+01:00

Even after more than two decades of work as a photojournalist I am constantly humbled by the open, generous nature of people I photograph. What we do is often intrusive by nature. The sense of awkwardness that most people would feel when pointing a camera at a stranger is one of the first things that a photographer has to overcome in order to be a documentarist. But it's all too easy for

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-42138011823415456152010-08-07T17:48:00.015+01:002011-09-20T11:52:32.589+01:00

Summer's here and the time is right for..... standing uncomfortably in a line of hopefuls all fidgeting nervously and clutching envelopes of prints - Yes its that Taylor Wessing moment. The National Portrait Gallery's annual prize for photographic portraits has rolled round once more and oh, the joy of submission is upon us already!Every year this well-run and highly regarded prize (now sponsored

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-75459907083757095742010-07-13T00:35:00.005+01:002011-09-20T16:17:03.544+01:00

Despite the widespread challenges in the photographic industry there are still many ways of earning a living. The difficulty has often been how to maintain one's livelihood while acquiring the new skills to compete in the new landscape. The Internet combined with the popularity of digital cameras means that photography has become more democratic, It is now easier to achieve acceptable

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-32048562003393714682010-07-02T00:02:00.005+01:002011-09-15T23:48:09.520+01:00

Often I have had to drive past things that I really wanted to photograph. Sometimes you can't stop because of time, sometimes its because of security but either way it's hugely frustrating. Back when most of my pictures were shot on film I had to just take this fact as part of the ebb and flow of professional photography. But since the advent of digital (it's not quite as expensive to just

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-59351132400855113912010-06-25T13:00:00.008+01:002011-09-20T16:18:29.846+01:00

A noisy but tuneful battle for territory between local blackbirds has meant any phone-call I make from my garden sounds like I'm calling from a aviary! This morning, one has taken up residence on the roof outside my window and it reminded me of Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, Walace Stevens' 1917 collection of short poems. They are all gently brilliant but this is my favorite.

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-76270315529643715342010-06-25T11:31:00.019+01:002011-09-15T23:48:31.737+01:00

The Summer Solstice at Stonehenge, which was earlier this week, marks an important milestone for me every year. Covering the event for my local newspaper in 1989 was my first taste of proper news photography and one of the formative experiences of my professional life. During the late eighties the monument was closed to the public due to fears about its condition. Consequently there were

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-58906069638203960852010-06-17T14:45:00.008+01:002011-09-15T23:49:21.446+01:00

Recently I did the portraits to accompany an interview with Alastair Campbell, the notorious former Chief Press Secretary to Tony Blair. Anyone who has even a passing knowledge of British politics will know that he was associated more than anyone with the tireless control of the government's public image during some of the most dramatic and important times of Blair's term in office. The

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-5120515962922089252010-06-11T13:20:00.027+01:002012-02-13T14:56:26.451Z

Last weekend was a bit of an odyssey with two assignments, one after the other, that took me from Saturday night to early Sunday morning. There cannot be many people who attended the both the Raisa Gorbachev Foundation Gala and the Bizarre Ball last weekend. In fact I'd be willing to bet that I was the only one. Ordinarily shooting two jobs for different clients at nearly the same time is

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-40462283885015176412010-06-11T12:39:00.007+01:002011-09-22T07:26:14.595+01:00

Unlike most things in life, Blogging is way easier to get OUT of than back into. For more than a year now my weblog has been silent and the reasons are too many and maybe too feeble to discuss but suffice to say that 2009 was a very difficult year. It is hard to feel inspired to document the process of chasing clients for money or being buried in paperwork or an endlessly delayed and

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-70327052869867551542009-03-27T10:10:00.006Z2011-09-22T07:26:55.675+01:00

A strange week of overload on so many fronts means a short post and the promise of better things to come. Forthcoming attractions? The new BPPA book "Unseen", a debate at the Photographers Gallery and a look at the effect that photographers who became picture editors have had on UK newspapers. In the meantime I offer this picture taken in Kabul last year that seems to encapsulate the

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-90848040470930655062009-03-20T10:41:00.028Z2009-03-21T18:07:36.351Z

Wednesday (18th March) was the opening night of "Still human, still here" at Host gallery. This is the first fruition of a long project by my friend Abbie Trayler-Smith. The exhibition, in conjunction with Panos Pictures and a coalition of like-minded NGOs aims to highlight the hardships and systematic prejudice faced by asylum seekers in this country.Over the past year or so Abbie has been

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-2504048913162997812009-03-19T18:46:00.021Z2011-09-22T07:28:27.749+01:00

Today's news of Natasha Richardson's death is a terrible and unexpected tragedy for her family, friends and colleagues and though it is not really my place, I would like to humbly offer my condolences to anyone who reads this and knew her.  I photographed Natasha Richardson in 1998 when she was in rehearsals for the revival of Cabaret that would win her a Tony. The Times had managed to get

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-11780994533035762732009-03-11T13:25:00.029Z2011-09-15T23:51:41.950+01:00

Last week, after a commercial job was unexpectedly cut short, I found myself at a loose end in Scunthorpe.  Yes, my life really is just one long round of unbridled excitement!  In an attempt to slough off the disappointment of the brief assignment I grabbed up my beloved Polaroid 670 SLR, my 5D and  set off round the town in search of something, anything to lift my mood. I found it

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-10046704782149404022009-03-02T20:03:00.027Z2009-03-06T16:06:37.910Z

Pronouncing Geert Van Kesteren's name is damn near impossible unless you have bad chest infection or a forty-a-day Capstan habit! For this reason he quickly became known as "the G-Man" to the US soldiers he was embedded with in Iraq over the course of 2003/4.But a tricky name is not the only challenge that Geert presents us. He is a formidable photographer sure, but then so many are. The problem

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-6919514011526178372009-02-20T12:55:00.011Z2009-02-21T12:42:12.515Z

A year ago you might assume that headline referred to another round of sectarian violence in the southern provinces. But it is actually the amount of time that leading British photojournalist, Abbie Trayler-Smith was allotted to make a photo-story for Time Magazine about the resurgence of Iraq's second city.Now it would be easy to bleat on about how this is a "sign of the declining importance

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-65642629580290655952009-02-18T17:05:00.012Z2009-02-21T12:43:59.189Z

A few years ago my friend Drew Gardner made this surreal picture whilst teaching in America. Provisionally titled "Terrorist Goat" it is a parody of societal fears and how easily they can be manipulated.Taking a few minutes from a packed schedule in the states he called me from New York to talk about the idea behind the shoot and what he thinks of Section 76.DG"It all stemmed from a drinks party

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-23681024795070069192009-02-18T14:43:00.010Z2009-02-21T12:15:29.758Z

Sunday 15th February saw the controversial Section 76 of the 2008 Terrorism Act come into force and this will "allow for the arrest and imprisonment of anyone who takes pictures of police officers that are likely to be useful to a person committing or preparing an act of terrorism."Put simply this is the single most blatant attempt to curtail the freedom of the press since the police gained the

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-27364007060491150682009-02-17T17:54:00.008Z2009-02-18T14:31:48.659Z

I have frequently described video journalism as "a child"s medium" and with few exceptions prefer audio slide-shows as multimedia content.Narrated audio slide-shows like Andrew Testa's excellent piece on Kosovo (here) serve to remind us of all that print journalism does well. The sense of reading is evoked by the narration, the transition between still images similar to the turning of a

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-38224221559336354962009-02-16T10:20:00.030Z2011-09-16T09:03:06.807+01:00

East London MP George Galloway is a complicated man. Politically  he is a staunch left-winger who's firebrand opposition to the war in Iraq led to his expulsion from the Labour party and onto the front pages of the news-media in 2003. Accused of being an apologist for Saddam Hussein and subsequently vilified by the tabloid and right of centre press he is definitely someone who cleaves opinion. 

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-32568014646153506792008-10-24T17:36:00.038+01:002011-09-15T23:58:55.176+01:00

It's common opinion that "The Midwest" starts at the Lincoln Tunnel, South America begins in Miami and after the military action this summer in Georgia, Russia draws the border more or less where it wants to! But the departure lounge for hell and its neighboring postcodes is undoubtedly Dubai Terminal 2. This is where you come if you

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-591081417382719833.post-4782197781071899292008-05-08T16:01:00.012+01:002011-09-22T07:27:32.226+01:00

Of course some are pushed and some jump but too many are gone just the same. The paradox of British photojournalism is that the quality, experimentalism and breadth of it are increasing exponentially and the outlets for getting the work seen are disappearing just as quickly. Because of this, many seasoned experienced and passionate photographers are trying to find other uses for the skills

Justin Sutcliffehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09218300881730900578noreply@blogger.com0