By Carolina Camps

“My stepfather raped me when I was a child. I remember that he always hit me hard on the head. My mom always said that I lied. Then I got engaged to be married and left home. He also hit me…I don’t know why but one day I killed him.”

This was the first story Maria de los Angeles told me in the psychiatric ward of Prison 33. She takes medicine five times a day, doesn’t know how many years she’s been in jail, or how many she has left.

She only knows that in this place she feels protected, that life outside wouldn’t treat her any better and that nobody is waiting for her release.

In December 2004, I started work on a photo essay at Prison 33 in La Plata, southeast of Buenos Aires. I chose a women’s jail because I believed it would be easier for me to get closer to the prisoners, listen to their stories and get to know them.

I was very curious to see what life was like in jail and what sort of women ended up in there.

I had a lot of prejudices when I began, but something changed. I stopped seeing and started observing, and I stopped being a free person and started to become one of them.

The bars, the prisoners, the feeling of being locked up, the punishment — I didn’t want that to show through my pictures.

The prison holds hundreds of sad stories, stories of abandonment, of mistreatment. I wanted to speak about these women just as I saw them, just as they showed themselves, just as they are.

Last year, in the second phase of my project, I worked in the maternity wards where 63 children up to four years old live together with prisoners.

The children were born in prison and have never seen daylight outside the bars. They don’t know what an animal or a car is, or what exists outside this lockup. They are children that don’t smile.

I was saddened to hear that the first word they learn is “celadora” (prison guard) and to see how their mothers used their teeth to cut food for them for the lack of a knife.

For those whose mothers are in prison for years, the arrival of a fourth birthday is the most painful day because the children must leave to live with their family outside, if they have one, or in a state home if they do not.

The vast majority jailed at Prison 33 are there pending trial; they haven’t been convicted of a crime. In Buenos Aires’ provincial prisons, about 12 percent of 780 female prisoners are pregnant or already living with their children behind bars.

The average jail term for these mothers is one year and eight months, and more than 70 percent of them are charged with robbery-related crimes or drug possession and peddling, according to a report by a provincial human rights commission.

I wanted to show with images how these women feel inside prison: the loneliness, the lesbianism as a way to feel loved, the self-flagellation and the suicide attempts, with wounds on their arms gaping like open mouths demanding attention.

I wanted to show the drugs they use to escape, their experience of motherhood, their limited lives, the lack of freedom.

I spent long hours inside the prison. It wasn’t easy getting close to them, but with patience and a lot of time I earned their trust.

That was how I could capture the feelings that circulate around the cells and hallways. It was how I could stop being an outsider and become a part of the group, documenting the daily lives and intimate moments of the inmates.

Bringing these images to light was my way of freeing them.

(Carolina’s slideshow can be viewed here , as well as the audio versions in English or Spanish)

At various times some of our photographers and picture editors have talked about how the eyes, hands and even feet can be used as the subject of pictures. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the “middle way” - the human belly as a means of self expression.

Going one better than wearing his heart on his sleeve, this soccer fan has transformed his belly into the Brazilian national flag, shame about the chest hair. Ivan Alvarado .

Gregarious biker, gsh, likes choppers, tattoos and beer. Laszlo Balogh.

I find this image really disturbing. It is one of a harrowing series showing life in an Argentine women’s prison where 273 female inmates, several of them pregnant, live with their 63 children who are allowed to remain with their mothers until they are four years old. Carolina Camps.

No paint or tattoos here, just a winnner in Spain’s El Gordo, ”the fat one”, lottery.  Perhaps with his winnings he’ll buy some underwear more appropriate for a well-fleshed lad. Miguel Vidal

For news photographers covering accidents, natural disasters, war and conflict is all part of the job. In some parts of the world sudden death is an everyday event. 

How we photograph scenes of death and injury is a tough call. We have to make decisions about how close we can get to the victims. If we are not working then perhaps we are just in the way and may even be making matters worse. At what stage do we stop shooting pictures to help somebody who is hurt? What if it is a colleague?

It is a balancing act and anyone who has ever covered a funeral will recognise that  tangible point beyond which the presence of cameras becomes intrusive and hurtful for the bereaved.

Is it different if our exposure to death is not unexpected? What happens when it is anticipated, even meticulously planned?

I have an idea to try and document the process involved in obtaining human donor organs for transplant. I approach staff at one of Berlin’s biggest hospitals, the accident hospital Berlin-Marzahn and then wait several weeks for the call to come. It comes on a Friday afternoon. A surgeon rings to say that a female patient of around 50 years has suffered brain trauma and is clinically dead. Her family have agreed to donate her organs for transplant and he has just called-in the specialist “explantation” team who are enroute to the hospital to begin the exhaustive checks to decide which organs would be applicable as donor organs.

Four hours later at 9pm I call the anaesthetist to try and find out when the operation will  begin, he doesn’t know but says the decision will be made in the next six to twelve hours and that he’ll ring me when he does.

At 1.30 as I go to bed my mobile phone rings. The surgeons of the operating team are ready and the operation is fixed for 4 am.

A nurse from the intensive care unit meets me at the hospital. The anaesthetist  is continually on the phone, coordinating flights and transport vehicles for the organs. The liver, both kidneys and the spleen are available as donor organs via the Eurotransplant International Foundation which is responsible for the mediation and allocation of organ donation procedures in Austria, Belgium, Croatia, Germany, Luxemburg, the Netherlands and Slovenia.

At 3.30 I am standing in the intensive care unit which is completely silent apart from the occasional noise from monitoring equipment. The motionless donor is brought to the unit in an elevator. I change into sterile blue scrubs, mask and cap and go into the theatre. Instruments are being laid out on special tables, everything made ready. Then the intensive care nurses and I sit and drink coffee while we wait for the surgeons.

The surgeons, on call 24 hours a day, come from all over the city. They change their clothes and scrub-up. Everyone is very calm, concentrated, nobody speaks much. The donor is brought in on a trolley and the operation begins.

She has been kept “alive” for days by artificial respiration. The surgeon isolates the abdominal wall and I take pictures. I have to keep a distance while taking pictures during the operation because of the risk of infection.

With a remote controlled camera I can photograph directly from above over the operation field. The only sounds are the surgeons giving each other instruction and the life-support machines with their flashing lights and the beeping  heartbeat monitor.

The liver, kidneys and spleen are ready for removal. Then there is a moment of silence. It is 5.42 am as the surgeons looks over to the anaesthetist, ”we can switch off”. The rhythmic beeping  stops, there are no vital signs, the female donor is dead. It is not until hours later that I realise I had unconsciously registered that moment. 

The team carries on working intently. Blood flow into the organs is interrupted to flood the organs with a special liquid. 

Then first the liver is detached followed by the two kidneys and the spleen. The operation site is continuously cooled with iced water and the organs are transferred into cooling bowls. Surgeons clean off the fat before packing the  organs into plastic bags surrounded by a chilling liquid which are then placed into cool boxes.

More than four hours after the procedure began the anaesthetist carries the cool boxes to to a waiting ambulance which rushes the organs to the airport.

The surgical team are exhausted but satisfied that through their efforts a dead woman and her family may have, by the gift of her organs, given others a second chance.

At first glance these two pictures appear the same. Same shape, same light, same content and both moved to the wire.

The difference, only visible on closer inspection, is the intention of the picture. The first is a picture of film idol and heart throb Johnny Depp arriving to the cheers of waiting fans. The second shows fans waving to film idol and heart throb Johnny Depp. The difference is the focus of the picture, in terms both actual and intentional.  

The first is of Depp arriving in Japan. He is in focus, you can see his face, his fashion and his body language. You can see where he is - a Japanese airport - it’s very much a news picture about the arrrival of a film star.

The second shows the fans clamouring as their hero arrives. They have prepared messages of love written on white gloves, their camera phones are charged, their autograph books ready to be signed. They have waited hours to catch a glimpse of the star, who in comparison to the tack sharp fans is shown slightly soft

However, given their apparent similarity do we need both versions? Do these pictures justify their place on a crowded wire as complimentary alternative views with real commercial value? Or is this just an overfile?

By Sapper Ian Chapman, winner of the British Army Photographic Competition 2007 

After my return from a busy tour of Afghanistan last year, someone suggested that I enter a few of the hundreds of images I’d taken on operations into the annual Army Photographic competition. ‘What the heck’, I thought, so I sent a slack handful of prints off in the post, never expecting to hear back.  Several weeks later whilst working with the US Marine Corps in Washington, my wife managed to contact me to let me know that an invitation had been received for the competition awards ceremony.  To cut a long story short and never having entered a competition before, I became the rather bemused but extremely proud winner of all five amateur categories that I had entered, as well as winner of the “Best Overall Image”. One of the judges was the Reuters UKI Chief Photographer David Viggers, who has since asked me to contribute to this blog page - thanks David, no pressure there then!

Crown copyright/Ian Chapman

My first camera, an OM10, was a 21st birthday present and I carried it everywhere with me whilst serving with the Army, taking pictures from Africa to Norway.  In 2006, I was given a Canon 350D and having the luxury of being able to delete all the rubbish shots, I became more adventurous with the images I took and saved.  So, armed with a shiny new camera and a big machine gun, I set out to document my experiences at the sharp end in Afghanistan.  Being a novice photographer, I never realised just how much memory space would be required to back up my images and on one occasion I managed to delete a full memory card while trying to download the images onto a mate’s laptop in the middle of the desert. Even charging the batteries for the camera was a challenge and I frequently had to flutter my eyelashes at our signaller in order to blag a plug socket for half an hour. Due to my tiny collection of memory cards, I estimate that I deleted around five thousand images to bring about a thousand home. A lesson well learned although I still haven’t bought a portable hard drive - I splashed out on a Nikon D200 instead! The Canon camera just about died in Afghanistan due to all the dust and abuse it was subjected to.

 
The feedback and comments I’ve received since winning the Army photographic competition have really fired me up and encouraged me to pursue photography as a future career, so I enrolled at a digital photography night class over the winter months to improve my general camera skills. I turned up on the first night to have the lecturer inform everyone that there was a pro’ amongst the class and proceeded to show everyone a magazine article about me. Embarrassed or what? Every time I turn up now, all I get is ‘what have you won this week?’ and ‘which magazine are you in today?’ I just laugh the banter off and continue photographing the melons and Goth models. One of the prizes I won was a two day training course on digital editing and I’m booked in to attend that later this month. Hopefully, I’ll learn more about image manipulation to enhance my work. Saying that, I’m really not interested in putting donkey ears on grandma’s head - I prefer to capture the image I want and just do the basics with it on the computer.

My local paper, The Hull Daily Mail, featured me in a ‘local boy done good’ article and afterwards I asked if I could possibly shadow their pro’ photographers to get a feel for press photography. The paper kindly had me on board for the week before Xmas and to say that I learned loads would be an understatement! A great bunch of people and a brilliant experience. The icing on the cake for me was when they asked if I’d like to cover the Championship footy match between Hull City and Wolves at the KC Stadium on Boxing Day. I jumped at the chance and was let loose on the touchlines with a 300mm lens that resembled a rocket launcher. Brilliant. Thankfully, the day was cold and dry, but I became a bit of a weather-watcher in the preceding days, praying for a crisp, bright afternoon. How people can do that job in pouring rain is beyond me - I just didn’t want to get my camera wet. They’re having me back to cover a rugby match when the Super League starts in February. Can’t wait, but please, no rain!

In summary, it’s been an exciting and hectic few months for me.  I’ve been amazed at how willing the professionals are at giving their time and precious advice and I’ve also learned that trying to get on the professional ladder is not an easy step to take, but I’m prepared to graft hard and I know it’s going to be fun trying!

So far it’s been a great story and a rollercoaster ride for supporters and candidates alike and the great pictures keep coming.

I particularly like this clever picture from Brian Snyder in New Hampshire. It is simple, effective, well observed, beautifully executed and delightfully still.

Our team of photographers may have changed shift but the candidates are still going. strong. As well as being completely awed by their sheer stamina, I am always amazed by the commitment demanded of their nearest and dearest. Jason Reed’s picture of the Obamas working the crowd shows that campaigning is very much a family affair.

The caption on this picture tell us that Senator Hillary Clinton “points to supporters in the crowd at her New Hampshire primary night rally”, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this expression of surprise and delight was a direct result of her having spotted Larry Rubenstein back behind a camera. 

When I’m asked, “what it like riding a bicycle in Beijing?”‘ my reply is, ”WATCH OUT FOR THE BUSES!!”                         

With most roads in Beijing already squeezed for space by millions of cars, the thousands more added everyday, the bicycle lane is often used as a bus stop, especially around Tienanmen Square. Bus drivers have developed a blind spot where cyclists are concerned, particularly those riding down a dedicated cycle lane.

There are other perils too.

- The weather.  In winter the cold slaps your face, in summer the sweat runs into your eyes but the freedom of cruising without a helmet (such things are more relaxed in China) reminds me of when I could do the same as a youngster back home in Australia - so much fun - and it’s not as if a cycle helmet is going to prevent anyone from becoming the hood mascot on a crosstown bus..

- The pollution.  Not so bad unless you are an air-breather but just about survivable if you cough vigorously about every 500 metres or so.

- The taxis. Wow, WATCH OUT for those guys, they really know how to cut you up. If they were the same size as buses, they would be the cyclist’s public enemy number one.

 Ohhhh, I nearly forgot;

- the electric bicycles. Silent but deadly. If you aren’t paying attention they can be on top of you before you know it, even after you’ve just looked over your shoulder.

But hey, if you can survive all those things being a ‘LaoWei’ on a bicycle cruising along the main roads of Beijing on a bicycle can be extremely enjoyable. The flatness of Beijing coupled with miles of cycle lanes allows you to progress at a leisurely pace while taking in the sights. Fascinating………..if not a little scary.

Having spent the weekend listening to my kids grumbling about having to return to school today after the Christmas break, I couldn’t help but be struck by the coincidence that these images, part of a series from South Korea by Lee Jae-Won, should be the first thing I saw as I read-in this morning. 

They show primary and middle school children on a six-day winter camp at the Cheongryong Self-denial Training Camp outside Seoul.

Run by ex-marines the camp is designed to strengthen body and spirit.

While nobody appears to be finding this process much fun, this little guy at least has the benefit of some evidence that, from this angle anyway, he was more than a match for the bigger kids.

This might be someone using their head creatively or perhaps just trying to hide from the world but if the expressions of discomfort on the faces we can see are anything to go by, while possibly not resulting in a flood of marine recruits in future, the physical and spiritual gain must be considerable.  

May your Monday be equally rewarding. 

From a rich picture file of events in Iowa comes another one of those images that rang a bell somewhere. Andy Clark’s picture of the winner of the Iowa Republican caucuses former Governor of Arkansas and Baptist preacher Mike Huckabee appears to show rays of light emanating from his head as he addressed a crowd of supporters in Grinell.

It was something I recalled seeing as an art student portrayed in classical representations of Moses on his return from Mount Sinai, like this one by Jusepe de Ribera, in which his great wisdom is represented by similar-looking beams of light - there is a well known  engraving of the same thing by Gustav Dore.

I draw no further comparisons and in any case Andy’s picture is deficient in terms both of the tablets and the beard, although as an earlier picture of his shows, perhaps the beard can be accounted for.

A while ago, making a comparison with the jubilant expressions we see from soccer matches, I suggested that protective headgear obscuring players’ facial expressions was one reason why exuberance or any other emotion was so hard to portray in sports like American football and ice hockey. There are of course exceptions and Joe Giza’s picture of the Washington Capitals’ Brashears and Ottawa Senators’ McGrattan punching one another’s lights out leaves little doubt as to the emotional state of the participants. 

However, for those of us raised on soccer and unconsciously used to seeing facial expressions as an essential part of the action, it is great to see football pictures like this from Lucy Nicholson which combine the two.

Sometimes no facial expression is required because the body language says all there is to say as in Danny Moloshok’s pictures of USC Trojans’ Desmond Reed performing a flip as he crosses the goal line to score a first quarter touchdown against the Illinois Fighting Illini.

Other times just a partial expression and the angle of the head are enough to tell the story.  

In this picture from Lee Celano there can be no mistaking University of Hawaii Warriors quarterback Colt Brennan’s abject dejection as he is led off the field after the Warriors lost 41-10 to the Georgia Bulldogs;

however Sean Gardner’s image of the University of Hawaii’s Rainbow Dancers performing before the game suggests that the flight home may not have been entirely miserable - applications for places there must be terribly oversubscribed.