The city of Chattanooga, built right on the banks of the Tennessee River, is strategically located to supply, particularly through water ways, the major American power plants, says Philiippe Joubert president of Alstom Power, who have commissioned French photographer Pierre Bessard, to produce a document of the factory and its workforce in the form of Chattanooga: The Green Factory. 

As with his earlier collaboration with Alstom Power, The Wuhan Boiler Company Workers, Bessard works exclusively in colour, presenting a visual narrative that depicts the Chattanooga plant and its natural environs — that builds turbines and generators for the North American fossil-fuel and nuclear power market — in a series of abstracts, which are interspersed with portraits of the companies workers and their families, and a text that reflects their dreams and aspirations.

I vaguely remember the landscapes of Cormac McCarthy’s first novels, says Bessard, and the sultry atmosphere found in Tennessee William’s plays which where set in the American  south. ‘But when I arrived in Chattanooga, I discovered an altogether different setting. A life quite distinct from the one I had briefly glimpsed whilst covering stories for French newspapers... and very different from the romantic stereotype.’

Above Pamela Evans and her children. (©Pierre Bessard/Courtesy of Éditions Bessard).

In approaching his subject, Bessard opts to keep his influence on the images to a minimum, in an attempt to convey, as faithfully as possible, the true lives and aspirations of  ‘this’ America that he finds before him.

Mitchell Parker, his wife Stephanie, and two young son’s, are photographed on the porch of their home. Mitchell stands in the centre of the frame, his resting on the rocking chair in which his wife sits, cradling their youngest son, whilst her other son stands to her side, her arm wrapping around his body, and drawing him close, as he reaches out to carved wooden bear the holds up high a sign that reads ‘PARKERS.’ They talk of their dreams, to have a third child, and the search for a piece of land on which to build their dream house, where they can raise their family. ‘We are looking at ways to invest for our children’s college funds, to provide them a sound, secure future,’ they say, and looking forward to the golden years together: sitting on our front porch in rocking chairs holding hands, watching our grandchildren run up the sidewalk to us.

‘We didn’t talk about expensive cars, trips to exotic destinations or the stock market index, but simply about basic values,’ writes Bessard, of the individuals and families that he meets in and around The Green Factory, and who talk about their own and highly individual interpretation of the ‘American dream.’ 

Above Rod French and his family. (©Pierre Bessard/Courtesy of Éditions Bessard).

Photographed in the living space of their home, Colleen Rimlinger and her ten-year-old son Nathan, discuss his dreams, whilst ten years hence may appear as an ‘infinity’ to a young boy, he is clear in his answer, ‘I want to be college studying to be an engineer like you.’ When asked by his mother what type of engineer he would like to be, he replies, ‘I want to engineer cars that use steam turbines instead of gasoline engines, that way there won’t be an exhaust pollution.’

‘It is difficult to describe my American Dream,’ says Heather Stalvey, who is photographed with her husband and two young daughters, ‘Over the last couple of years, I believe all Americans have been forced to think about the true definition of “success.” For me, I want  to look back on my life knowing I made a positive difference in the lives of people I encountered everyday.’

Whilst The Green Factory is a commissioned project, and as such Alstom Power — with whom Bessard has developed a significant relationship — have a message that it wishes to communicate about the environmental credentials of the Chattanooga plant, and their sense of place within the community, Bessard is granted an unprecedented level of editorial independence and freedom by the multi-national corporation, allowing him to explore fully the concept of the ‘American Dream’ that reflects the microcosm of life and work, in and around the Chattanooga plant.

The Green Factory is published by Éditions Bessard.

Further reading Wuhan Boiler Company Workers by Pierre Bessard.

Widely considered one of the most original and significant female artists working in the UK today, Natasha Caruana’s practise is grounded in research, archives, the internet and personal narratives. In her latest body of work, Fairytale for Sale, she posed as a bride-to-be searching for the perfect dress for her very special day; as she contacted women who where advertising their wedding dresses for sale on the internet. 

Requesting high resolution images on the pretence of looking at the dress of her dreams in greater detail, Caruana collected a series of images that where ‘made to validate a ceremony’ and recycled as small ads, and which now form ONO — the second book to be published by the Here Press — the very antithesis of the wedding album. 

Above Untitled, from ONO. (©Natasha Caruana/Courtesy of Here Press).

Here we experience the smiling bride, groom, and other members of the wedding party, with their faces blocked out in white, scratched-off, blacked-out, cloned, or defaced in other ways, in an attempt to disguise or make anonymous that very private day, that is now presented within the public realm, on auction and sale sites such as Gumtree.

What remains in Fairytale for Sale, is a surreal series of theatrical images of marriage, where the performers take to the stage wearing masks of anonymity as they act out ‘emblematic scenes.’ With the many and varied reasons for the sale of the wedding dress unknown — could it be that financial woes dictate its sale, or the practical issues of storage, or maybe the dress is now tainted by divorce — Caruana does not offer answers, but leaves it to the imagination of the viewer as to why these women are selling an item of such emotional significance.

ONO is published by Here Press in a limited and signed edition of 150 copies.

Above Yvette. (©Phillip Toledano/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis).

I am interested in what we define as beauty, when we choose to create ourselves, says New York based photographer Phillip Toledano, who suggests ‘we are at the vanguard of a period of human induced evolution,’ in A New Kind of Beauty, ‘A turning point in history where we are beginning to define not only our own concept of beauty, but of physicality itself.’

For Toledano, beauty has always been a a currency, and now that we finally have the technological means to mint our own, he asks ‘What choices do we make? Is beauty informed by contemporary culture? By History? Or is it defined by the surgeon’s hand? When we re-make ourselves, are we revealing our true character, or are we stripping away our very identity?

Above Zander. (©Phillip Toledano/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis).

This striking series of portraits of people who have transformed themselves, even recreated themselves, is neither judgmental nor objective, in fact as W. M. Hunt points out, ‘These images are remarkably straightforward. The backgrounds are dark, the lighting plays on the skin in a classic chiaroscuro fashion; they have a handsome peachy glow. The sitters, naked or semi-clothed, look out benignly at the viewer. But the impact of these faces and the bodies is jarring, even, alienating. The sitters’ motivations for these enormous changes are undoubtedly personal and deeply felt, but the enormity of that transgressive action challenges us as the viewer to sort out our own ideas about beauty and gender.’

Above Angel. (©Phillip Toledano/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis).

They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but for those that Toledano depicts in A New Kind of Beauty, one would suggest beauty is in the eye of the beheld. ‘Looking at these works — the photographs and the people — is an uncomfortable exercise for many of us — maybe not all — struck and staggered by the strangeness of this beauty,’ writes Hunt.

These men and women rarely undergo just one cosmetic procedure, but submit to multiple surgeries, cosmetic adjustments and aggressive hormone treatments, over a prolonged period of time. ‘Looking at these images, we have to question how our aesthetic judgments are compromised by our guardedness or discomfort with these seeming distortions, these new proportions,’ writes Hunt, ‘this is different and unfamiliar territory, and that makes us resistant or, after a couple of deep breaths, tentative.’

A New Kind of Beauty, is published by Dewi Lewis.

Above A labourer and his son pack away their tools following a day working on a private villa in New Cairo. They are returning to their home in downtown Cairo and are lucky to own a car, as public transport in the communities is sparse. (©Jason Larkin/Courtesy of Panos Pictures).

Taking the form of the now popular newspaper format, Cairo Divided: a megacity turns itself inside out, is the first in a planned series of publications which presents a collaboration between photographers and writers of ‘long-form’ essays. 

Working over a period of two-years Panos Pictures photographer Jason Larkin, and The Guardian’s Egypt corespondent Jack Shenker, explore the rapidly-mutating urban landscape of Egyptian capital. ‘From a population of one million at the beginning of the 20th Century to over 18 million today, Cairo’s expansion has been rapid,’ says Larkin. And whilst most capital cities around the world have seen their populations swell, ‘the speed with which the Egyptian one has grown in the last century is testament to both its remarkable centripetal power and surrounding vacuum of opportunity.’

‘This is a story about a city so large that it had to turn itself inside out,’ writes Shenker in his essay that accompanies Larkin’s colour images, ‘transforming its periphery into its core whilst condemning the previous centre to a life on the margins. It’s a process that began long before this year’s revolution and is continuing well beyond it, ripping apart old social and political fabrics and giving birth to a web of contradictions where the advance of private capital is marshalled by an aggressively retreating state, gated compounds for the elite are reimagined as inclusive national projects, isolation gets marketed as community and plush green golf courses can rise miraculously from some of the most arid land on earth.’

Above An 18-hole signature Greg Norman golf course dominates the the centre of Sodic’s ‘Westown’ project. The company insists it is careful to mitigate the environmental impact of its development as much as possible, but many experts question the sustainability of expending valuable water resources on luxury green fairways in the desert. (©Jason Larkin/Courtesy of Panos Pictures).

Larkin says he was drawn in to these vast spaces, ‘and surrounded by the drone of construction, I was mesmerised by the exposed layers of new urban centres being developed among the desert dunes. In focusing on these landscapes I wanted to capture the reality of fantasy lifestyles in mid-production, to document the extravagance of a few whose wealth put sharp focus on the fact that 40% of Egyptians live on less than $2 a day.’

Over the centuries, Cairo’s growth has remained largely checked by it’s physical geography, as it clings to a narrow strip of fertile land, irrigated by the River Nile; whilst beyond it’s confines, is nothing but arid desert. ‘Now, faced with the city’s barely contained chaos and alarmed by the growing slums, Cairo’s elite have begun to dream of escape,’ remarks Shenker, ‘Along the Ring Road, billboards advertise exclusive new private developments — Utopia, Dreamland, Palm Hills, Belle Ville and The Egypt of My Desires. Cairo’s future, it seems, lies outside the city’s boundaries, in the desert, where it can be built from scratch.’

Here in these isolated and secure communities, ‘Occupants of the narrow strata who are deemed wealthy enough to be offered a stake in the gated compounds of Cairo’s future are indeed being handed a chance, albeit within corporate-set parameters, to enter a new age of self-agency and creativity,’ suggests Shenker ‘where the physical walls and social restrictions of the traditional city have melted away to allow fresh identities to flourish.’

Above A street of individually-owned villas and apartment blocks rises from the sand in New Cairo. (©Jason Larkin/Courtesy of Panos Pictures).

Labourer Mohammed Sayed Mohammed, one of many working on the construction of these new gated communities, says, ‘After I finish this villa I’ll be lucky to ever be allowed back in; that’s why the owner is paying so much, to get away from the people.’ In a country where 90% of the population have seen their income decline in the last two decades, and are now poorer than when Egypt joined the International Monetary Fund (IMF) in 1991, these isolationist developments raise significant questions of social unease, as well as the environmental impact. 

A Sodic sales representative, the developer currently constructing, Westown, says, ‘It’s not a gated community, but don’t worry — security will be at every entrance ensuring only the right kind of people get in.’ Whilst at the heart of Westown, is a Greg Norman designed 18-hole golf course of pristine fairways, that stands as a surreal vision in a sea of desert. The development company responsible for it’s construction, ‘insists it is careful to mitigate the environmental impact of its development as much as possible,’ says Larkin, ‘but many experts question the sustainability of expending valuable water resources on luxury green fairways in the desert.’ 

In Cairo Divided, Larkin stands witness to what can only be viewed as a mass exit strategy, and with his camera, records the foundations of abandonment in pursuit of self-interest and exclusive isolation; which as psychiatrist Ahmed Okasha points out becomes a ‘triumph of isolation,’ and with isolation comes ‘dehumanisation,’ and with that unimaginable problems.

Cairo Divided is published by Unabridged in association with Panos Pictures.

Attracted to the dreamlike quality of light, British photographer Sandra Croft seeks out those moments where ‘imperfection and imbalance make for a perfect image,’ she says ‘usually it’s not a single feeling, but the overall stillness and isolation that emerges when you see the familiar from an unfamiliar perspective — a fleeting, delicate place that’s a mix or reality and fantasy.’

In Psychic Hearts, the latest volume from independent publisher The Velvet Cell, Croft — who studied design, before beginning work in the music industry — brings together a collection of these ‘perfect’ colour images. Here we experience the earth from 30,000 feet, a planet glowing like molten lava; in another photograph we feel the burning heat of the sun on a rural America street; whilst in another image a rock group perform on stage, barely visible through a haze of ethereal light.

Above Untitled, from Psychic Hearts. (©Sandra Croft/Courtesy of The Velvet Cell).

For Croft, photography is both a means of escapism and a meaningful conversation with the experiences of life. ‘I’m always dreaming of other places, a kind of ongoing escapism,’ she remarks, whilst acknowledging that ‘in reality, there’s no escaping anything in life — even if you fly all the way to Thailand you’ll still find that person inside longing to escape.’ She continues, ‘So I think I’ve created this realm in my photos where there can be an eternal escape from reality through any era and all places. There are never any intentions, plans, tactics, except for the opposite maybe: it just happens. The idea is to stop aiming and let intuition guide you to a place capable of transforming everyday existence into something strange and romantic.’

In these varied images of the everyday, Croft reflects upon her own ‘philosophical mobility,’ where she can, at least stylistically, ‘move from one position to another’ in her photography and does not have to be ‘true or faithful, or believe in any of the work as being an answer to anything.’

Psychic Hearts is published by The Velvet Cell in an edition of 100 numbered copies. A launch party will be held at Beach London on 26 January 2012.

Whether you agree with the judges selection or not, there is no denying that the announcement of the annual Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize shortlist — and the exhibition that follows at London’s National Portrait Gallery — is a much anticipated event in the capitals photographic calendar. 

This year’s first prize winner, Harriet and Gentleman Jack, by British photographer Jooney Woodward, has caused heated debate that centres all to frequently around Harriet’s red hair, and the fact that redheads have been a reoccurring theme through previous years winners. Personally I find much of this debate and discussion void, as the flame haired model has long attracted the attention of artists — just look at the work of pre-Raphelite artists who where obsessed, to say the least, by red haired models — and photographers are no different. 

Above Wen, 2011 by Jasper Clarke. (©Jasper Clarke/Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery, London).

Personally, I’d prefer to focus on the merits of this beautiful image, rather than the politics of judging, and found Woodward’s slightly disturbing portrait of Harriet clutching her rusty-red Guinea pig Gentleman Jack a worthy winner. Whilst the fourth prize study of Chinese artist Wen, who lives and works in her East London studio, by Jasper Clarke, with its restricted colour palette and deceivingly simple composition also caught my eye.

There are certainly images in this exhibition that I find myself questioning the merits of, but that’s the subjective nature of such exhibitions and awards; that aside there is much to admire in this show. My personal favourites, include: Italian documentary photographer Paolo Patrizi’s study of Anna, from his powerful social series, Migration Linked to Prostitution, which breaks away from the stereotypical and often narrow perception of the ‘portrait’ presenting an intimate study that signals much about Anna and the life she has been forced into.

Above Anna, from the series Migration Linked to Prostitution, March 2010 by Paolo Patrizi. (©Paolo Patrizi/Courtesy of the photographer).

The dark and brooding portrait of Keira Knightley by Michael Birt, presents an untypical depiction of the British actress, that moves away from the conventions of celebrity portraiture in general; whilst Mexican born photographer Antonio Olmos’s study of twelve young people mourning the loss of their murdered friend Negus McClean, on a London street — from his ongoing series documenting scenes of murder across the capital — stands as a poignant reminder of the fragility and senseless loss of life that seams all to common.

Produced as part of his series, Faces of Africa, Mario Marino’s stunning portrait of Malega, captures the elegance and pride of a young Surma boy; whilst street photographer Darren Hall’s image of Claudia, captured at London’s Truman Brewery, is an exquisite example of the ‘decisive moment,’ as backlight illuminates her, pulling her from the hustle and bustle of the gallery crowd. Harry Hook’s portrait of a young boy with his homemade toy, Abenther, Ari boy with toy cars, from his series Africa Studio, is a beautiful and intimate photograph.

Above Friends mourn Negus McClean, April 2011 by Antonio Olmos. (© Antonio Olmos/Courtesy of the photographer).

With national and multi-national stores increasingly dominating our high streets, Dylan Collard’s has been documenting the rapidly vanishing independent store owners in a series of environmental portraits, that hold great social significance, represented here by his portrait of sewing machine store owner Tony; whilst Sveta makes direct eye contact with the lens of Hadas Mualem, in his stark yet captivating portrait of the young woman at home in he personal domain.

The Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize 2011 is at the National Portrait Gallery, London, until 11 February 2012.

Further reading Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize 2010.

Above In the area around Birak, close to the border with Sudan, hundreds of refugees live in simple straw huts. (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

‘Displaced people are not a sudden catastrophe, but a tragedy that plays out day after day, year after year,’ writes Panos Pictures photographer Espen Rasmussen, who has devoted the past six years to documenting and recording the stories of the worlds displaced citizens, in his series Transit. Today with a lack of action by the global community and its politicians, there is an estimated 43 million people displaced from their homes — we do not even know how many millions more are struggling to survive as undocumented migrants — the highest number recorded in the last decade.

‘Too many of these people will be left to their own devices,’ says the Norwegian photographer ‘with their own governments as onlookers to injustice and murder, shrugging in response to the persecution and killings.‘ It is the footsteps of these people — ‘marked by war and unbearable anxieties‘ — that Rasmussen has followed in, bearing witness to their stories.

Above Displaced people seek refuge in a church in the village of Rubare. They fled Ntamugenga after rebels attacked and burned their houses. (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

‘Rasmussen has travelled the world for the past six years documenting some of biggest unfolding dramas of our time,’ writes Jan Egeland, a former Director General, of the Norwegian Institute of International Affairs and UN Emergency Relief Coordinator, in his essay The drama on our watch. ‘He has met with, lived among and photographed people who have had to flee from their homes in – or to – Afghanistan, Bangladesh, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Sudan, Chad, Colombia,Georgia, Serbia, Syria, Yemen and Norway.’

In only a few short days, more than 100,000 men, women, children and the elderly — the newly displaced — arrive in the Democratic Republic of Congo’s eastern city of Goma. They arrive mainly on foot, carrying what worldly possessions they can, seeking a safe place to sleep; and an escape from the intense and brutal conflict between the Congolese army and the rebel militia commanded by the warlord Laurent Nkunda, which has once again flared up, with Nkunda’s troops accused of massacres and torture. 

Above In the Roma camp of Salvatore, homes are made from plastic, tarpaulins and containers. When it rains, both the houses and streets fill with water. (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

Rasmussen’s images document the sea of people as they stream into the city along its main road, escaping unimaginable violence, fed both by political differences, land rights and greed for natural resources. It is sometimes called Africa’s ‘world war,’ but once again it is the local population — the innocent — who find themselves in the firing line. The refugees find shelter where they can; a church, or maybe one of the many camps such as Mugunga. Their shared experiences and stories, are documented by Rasmussen, forming a visual record. They tell stories of the rebels removing their uniforms, wearing civilian clothes instead, in an attempt to confuse the government troops.

Every night starving and scared Somalis arrive on the beaches of Yemen, having made a fearful journey. ‘A journey you would only consider if you were desperate,’ says Rasmussen, ‘But in the collapsed state of Somalia most people are desperate and looking for a safer place to live.’ Those that arrive on the beaches are the lucky ones, who have survived a treacherous two-day voyage across the Gulf of Aden, where many loose their lives as they escape Somalia in search of a new and better life.

Above Many of the thousands who fled from the fighting in the north settled in old office buildings, disused kindergartens and schools in Tbilisi. (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

‘In old boats they have sat huddled together, without food and with little water. A few dollar bills, gained from work, family or friends, are all they carry. Later they will tell of blows, kicks and threats from people smugglers, and of those thrown overboard and left to drown. Some of those who get to Yemen travel to the capital city in the hope of earning a living. For others, Yemen is just one leg on a longer journey.’

Out of the desert ride the Janjaweed militia — ‘devils on horseback.’ Heavily armed, this small group of men are responsible for killing and rape in the Darfur region of western Sudan. ‘Their victims are the populace caught up in a conflict involving rebels, the Sudanese army and militant nomads. The Arab Janjaweed soldiers, with support from the authorities, are accused of the genocide of the non-Arab part of the population and held responsible for the displacement of more than 2.7 million people.’ The vast majority of those that have fled now live in camps in Darfur; whilst the lucky few have managed to cross the border into neighbouring Chad.

Above Three-year-old twins Hassan and Hossin and their two-year-old sister Hannan are tied up for six hours a day while their mother is at work. ‘I have to tie them up,’ says Selma Ahmed Adem. ‘There is nobody here to look after them and I am afraid they will crawl out of the window while I’m away.’ (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

It would take 73 year-old Arbab Adam Abdullai five days to make the journey into Chad, finally arriving exhausted and hungry, at the Farchana refugee camp, where he now lives with his my wife and their three children. ‘We left everything, we have nothing,’ he says. ‘The Janjaweed militia came to my village. They killed my two brothers and uncle before they began the rapes,’ and before they left, they burned down every house in the village. ‘We have no future here, and what will happen to my children? I don’t know. How will I get food and education for them?’ he asks. 

‘More than 7,000 refugees live in tents in a desert where daytime temperatures approach 50°C; the UNHCR provides tents and distributes water,’ writes Rasmussen. But new refugees arrive each day with many choosing not to use the three large camps, such as that at Farchana, but to errect small huts constructed of bamboo and plastic along the 600km border between Chad and Darfur. Many more camp along with their animals in dry riverbeds — where what little water there is, maybe found in wells — unwilling to abandon their livestock, as it is all they have left of any value. But outside of the official camps they ‘live in fear of new attacks from Janjaweed soldiers, who often roam the border looking for victims and food.’

Above A Janjaweed militia soldier in Darfur, Sudan. The rebel group has terrorized the local population since 2003. (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

Within the town of Vranje, in the south of Serbia, four Roma families make their home in a single cramped room; they are the forgotten legacy of the war in Kosovo. ‘When NATO began bombing the province to force Serbian troops out, not only soldiers fled, more than 250,000 Serbians did too, ending up as displaced persons in their own country,’ says Rasmussen, ‘They found refuge in old motels, disused kindergartens and campsites over all Serbia.’

‘Between shacks made of scrap metal, cardboard and plastic, comes the sound of an accordion. It is night and the Roma who live here have retired to the warmth of their small homes,’ writes Rasmussen, ‘In one of them live Redza and his two brothers. He takes out his accordion and starts to hum. “Music keeps us alive,” he says.’ He along with his brothers, fled from Kosovo during the war; now they are displaced. ‘Few dare to return to Kosovo. We are afraid of the Albanians and that they will seek revenge,’ says Redza. Slavica, her husband and children live in the same camp. ‘Kosovo is part of Serbia. Do you think we will go back if Kosovo is ruled by Albanians?’ she asks. Her father-in-law Dushoes Nikolic lives in a village inside Kosovo, some hours from the camp. He is waiting for his son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren to move home again. A few Serbians and Albanians live side-by-side in the village. The area is patrolled by soldiers every hour. ‘My house was burned down when we fled. It was rebuilt after the war and I chose to return home again,’ says Dushoes. ‘I am an old man and get on well with everyone. I have to, these are the last years of my life.’

Above During the bus trip refugees were stopped many times by local Iraqi militias and often forced to hand over their money and possessions. (©Espen Rasmussen/Courtesy of Dewi Lewis Publishing).

‘Having travelled or worked in more than 100 countries there is a question I am frequently asked by students, journalists and refugees,’ writes Egeland, ‘is the world in general getting better or worse? It is the big question asked by each generation: are we making progress on our watch?’ He continues, ‘I am convinced that the world is getting steadily better for a sizeable majority of the world’s population. There is greater peace, and, for example, more children receive education and health care than when the Cold War ended. There has been a marked increased in life expectancy on all continents and in nearly all countries.’

But despite these huge steps forward, and as we experience in Transit, and the powerful photographs of Rasmussen  — who stands witness to the displaced citizens of the world —  there is still much that must change in our shared societies. ‘Through the United Nations and other international organisations I have seen how we can organise, against all the odds, tremendous processes of change when we have a sufficient minimum of political support from the most powerful and resources from the richest nations. So there is, despite all the troubles and threats, hope for humanitarian action. This book explains what is at stake,’ concludes Egeland.

Transit, is published by Dewi Lewis Publishing.

Above Untitled by Mark Peckmezian from Minus Five, Volume One, Issue Two. (©Mark Peckmezian/Courtesy of Fourteen-Nineteen).

Founded by 19-year old Lewis Chaplin, a London-based photographer and anthropology student; and Alex F. Webb who is currently studying at Brighton University; Fourteen-Nineteen is a collaborative project that seeks to promote and celebrate the work of young photographers who are at the earliest stages of their artistic careers.

Through a range of activities, that include an online gallery and publishing programme, the duo have created in Fourteen-Nineteen, an important and engaging platform for interacting with the next generation of contemporary photographers.

Amongst the books and zine’s so far published, are a number of volumes by the founders, including: Sourcebook and Card Stand by Chaplin; and American Surfaces by Webb, as well as I Am Julian Assange, a collaboration between the pair; along with books by Tommy Nease, Levi Mandel, Silvino Mendonça, and Seeing Green a joint work by Aaron McLaughlin & Grace Miceli.

Above Untitled by Maisie Cousins, from Minus Five, Volume One, Issue Two. (©Maisie Cousins/Courtesy of Fourteen-Nineteen).

Alongside these monographs, Fourteen-Nineteen have recently published the second issue of Minus Five. Curated by Chaplin and Webb, Minus Five ‘aims to serve as a platform to promote the new images and ideas, while exploring the diffusion of contemporary image-making within young artists still finding their photographic voices,’ with each issue showcasing the work of five young artists that the pair ‘think you should know about.’

In issue one of Minus Five (which is now out of print), they introduce us to the work of Juan Chao, Bobby Doherty, Harry Mitchell, Willa Nasatir and Andrew Nemiroski; whilst in issue two we are exposed to the work of Emily Burtner, Rafa Castells, Maisie Cousins, Alex Howard and Mark Peckmezian.

fourteen-nineteen.com

Above Piet Mondrian, 353 East 56Th Street, New York, NY, 17 January 1942. (©Estate of Arnold Newman/Courtesy of Chris Beetles Fine Photographs).

‘We don't take pictures with our cameras. We take them with our hearts and we take them with our minds, and the camera is nothing more than a tool.’ Arnold Newman

In the early 1940s a new form of photographic portraiture began to emerge, that contrasted sharply with then popular studio based styles as represented by the likes of Richard Avedon (1923-2004) and Irving Penn (1917-2009). At the epicentre of this new movement — which became known as ‘environmental portraiture‘ — was the work of New York born Arnold Newman (1918-2006), who is now widely credited with the popularisation of this form of portraiture. With the ‘environmental portrait’ we saw a move away from the seamless white backdrops of the studio, towards the depiction of the photographers subject in their own environment; where, amongst these varied settings, visual motifs could be found which evoked the professions and personalities.

Initially studying painting on a scholarship at the University of Miami, Newman would turn to photography, when he found himself financially unable to continue his studies — and moved to Philadelphia to work for a chain of portrait studios. Here he would learn his craft producing 49-cent portraits; and importantly he came in to contact and socialise with students at what was then called the Philadelphia Museum School of Industrial Arts, where the influential art director of Harper's Bazaar, Alexey Brodovitch (1898-1971) was teaching. The experimental teachings that the Russian-emigre encouraged in his classes, found there way to Newman through these students, and his photographic style rapidly developed a clean and graphic simplicity.

Above Igor Stravinsky, New York, NY, 1 December 1946. (©Estate of Arnold Newman/Courtesy of Chris Beetles Fine Photographs).

In 1941, Newman began to experiment photographic collages, whereby he cut his prints up into various shapes, and rearranged them to form Cubist inspired images. It was a technique he would return to in the 1960s, with his ‘interpretive portrait’ of Warhol as well as similar ones of the artist Dan Flavin and the writer Henry Miller, among others. It was also in 1941, that he made, what has been described by Andy Grundberg as his first artistically successful environmental portraits, an approach that he would essentially stay with for the rest of his career, with only a few exceptions, such as his 1954 portrait of Picasso, taken in Vallauris, France, which shows the artist in close-up, holding his righthand to his brow; revealing little of the surroundings in which the photograph was made — or his 1949 portrait of the artist Jean Arp, which was taken at such an extreme close-up that the viewer sees only a hand, the right eye and a cheek and a curving, sensuous form that is unidentifiable but evocative.

Whilst Newman’s methods had more in common with the photojournalistic style of portraiture, as practiced by Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908-2004) or Alfred Eisenstaedt (1898-1995), that that of Avedon or Penn; he remained in control, first getting to know his sitters and putting them at their ease, and then rearranging the spaces to create compositions that symbolised his understanding of their characters and achievements,’ says Giles Huxley-Parlour, director of Chris Beetles Fine Photographs — which is currently exhibiting 50 of Newman’s portraits — ‘So Mondrian, for example, is placed with the angles of his easel as an echo of the pure geometry of his painting.’

‘Although my approach has become popularly known as environmental portraiture,’ Newman wrote in the early 1980's, ‘it only suggests a part of what I have been doing and am doing. Overlooked is that my approach is also symbolic and impressionistic or whatever label one cares to use.'

In 1939, Newman returned to Florida to manage a portrait studio in West Palm Beach, opening his own business, the Newman Portrait Studio in Miami Beach three years later. Following the end of the Second World War, he relocated to New York in 1946, opening, Arnold Newman Studios; having the previous year staged his first major exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, titled, Artists Look Like This, when the exhibition finally closed, the museum purchased the entire collection of prints.

Soon other magazines where calling too, including Look, Holiday and Life; three of the most influential titles of the period. In 1947 alone, four of Newman's photographs appeared on the cover of Life — to place this number in context, the Magnum co-founder Robert Capa (1913-1954) whose name is synonymous with Life, only made the cover twice in his career — and although he would undertake many assignments for the magazine Newman never joined its staff, preferring the life of the freelance photographer.

Whilst Newman’s best-known images were in black and white, he frequently worked in colour, with a number of his most iconic images being produced in the medium. The most famous of which is sinister portrait of the German industrialist Alfried Krupp, taken for Newsweek in 1963. Only rarely would he accept an assignment to photograph a figure he found unsympathetic, and Krupp was one of these rare assignments. ‘Krupp, long-faced and bushy-browed, is made to look like Mephistopheles incarnate: smirking, his fingers clasped as he confronts the viewer against the background of a assembly line in the Ruhr,’ suggest Grundberg, ‘In the colour version his face has a greenish cast. The impression it leaves was no accident: Mr. Newman knew that Krupp had used slave labour in his factories during the Nazi reign and that he had been imprisoned after World War II for his central role in Hitler's war machine.’ When Krupp saw the photographs, he declared me persona non grata in Germany, said Newman.

In 1953, the Art Institute of Chicago staged Newman’s second exhibition, and by the end of the decade he was widely considered one of the ten greatest photographers in the world. But, by the the 1960's, however, Newman's environmental approach to the portrait was beginning to loose favour as more rebellious and Surrealist-influenced styles gained in popularity, says Grundberg, who continues, ‘For some critics and collectors, what once looked so fresh and original now seemed too facile; his attention to powerful and successful men and women appeared, in those counterculture days, as too flattering; and his immaculate work seemed too sleek and too well-made. But the rise of the art market for photographs in the 1970's brought his work to the attention of a new generation.’

Whilst he held numerous exhibitions around the world during his career, and his prints were collected by individuals and institutions alike, he would remain characteristically caustic about the enthusiasm for what is now known as art photography. ‘Those who call themselves art photographers are pompous, arrogant egoists,’ he told The Detroit News in 1993.

Newman’s oeuvre is marked by reoccurring themes, notably his portraits of artists, such as Braque, Miro, whom he had met in New York in the 1940s, and Warhol, Frank Stella, Claes Oldenburg and Louise Nevelson, who he photographed throughout the 1960s and 70s; he was also known and admired for his portraits of American presidents, from John F. Kennedy to Gerald R. Ford. But for Newman, who once stated, ‘I hate the whole idea of celebrity,’ there were subjects he generally steered clear of: actors, actresses, rock stars and anyone he considered, as he put it, ‘famous for being famous.’

Arnold Newman, is at Chris Beetles Fine Photographs, London, until 11 February 2012.

Above Untitled, from Let’s sit down before we go. (©Bertien van Manen/Courtesy of Mack).

I have to like the people I photograph. I need to feel an attraction, a fascination, says artist Bertien van Manen; who came to photography almost by accident, when like many mothers she began taking photographs of her young family. As her work gathered critical attention, she was quickly drawn into the world of fashion, but by the late seventies and tiring of the industry, she was looking for a new direction in her photographic work. This change of direction came through discovering the work of Robert Frank and Josef Koudelka, which lead van Manen to explore the ‘developing relationship between herself and her subjects, keeping a closeness and developing a personal, organic style of photography.’

Between 1991 and 2009, the Dutch born artist traveled extensively across Asia and Eastern Europe carrying with her, a small, analogue camera. As she travelled she learnt the local language and engaged with the people who would become the subject of her latest volume, Let’s sit down before we go; a collection of images edited, and sequenced by the British photographer Stephen Gill. Standing as a metaphor for the subject of van Manen’s images, the title of this series reflects a Russian tradition which dictates that before embarking on a long journey, one should sit down for a moment and reflect upon the journey they are about to undertake.

Above Untitled, from Let’s sit down before we go. (©Bertien van Manen/Courtesy of Mack).

In one of her photographs, we enter a summer campsite formed around a gnarled pine tree; from which hang’s a Jolly Roger and empty vodka bottles that dominate the van Manen’s composition. Littered with the detritus of everyday life, the makeshift camp is home to a group of young men, two of whom acknowledge the photographers presence, holding direct and prolonged eye contact her lens, while others are oblivious to her presence. In another of van Manen’s images, a woman in a scarlet swimsuit sunbathes in a summer meadow, her eyes closed — comfortable in van Manen’s presence — her body gently curves upwards through the photographic frame, leading the viewers eye across the image plane, whilst the flattened grasses nestle her body.

The acceptance that we experience in these images, and others in Lets’s sit down before we go, reflect van Manen’s approach, where she undertakes to learn the languages of those she wishes to photograph, devoting time to the personal relationship. It is through this approach that she is able to gain access to places that are frequently inaccessible to a stranger, particularly one with a camera; such as the homes of those she documents. The resulting colour photographs therefore ‘weave between the public and private lives of her subjects,’ who appear at ease and comfortable with her presence.

Let’s sit down before we go, is published by Mack.