Editor’s Note: Eliana Aponte is a highlighted photographer this month on the Reuters website. See an extensive portfolio of her recent work here.

 
Being a photographer is one of the best jobs in the world because when you enjoy what you do it is more a hobby than a job. In our case, it is a hobby with considerable responsibility.

As a journalist traveling through different countries, meeting interesting people, or working in inhospitable places, storytelling is a privilege. I have always thought that my eyes are the eyes of many people, and that through them others can see what is happening.
 
When I started as a photographer I always wanted to contribute my bit to make the world a better place. Many of us think that when we are young and full of dreams. As time passes, I realize that the real changes in history are made by the people who are living their own lives. Photographers just document what happens, nothing more.

Reuters  photographer Eliana Aponte (2L) is seen while working next to colleagues in the West Bank village of Qabatiya near Jenin, May 15, 2006. REUTERS/Mohamad Torokman

When I was in Colombia, I spent almost a month in the wildest part of the country where the sun never shines, the sounds of animals never cease and the darkness is neither gray nor black. Reuters was witness to the freeing of 300 policemen and soldiers who had been kidnapped by FARC guerrillas and held in the jungle.

It was the hardest experience in my life, both as a photographer and as a human being. I learned there is nothing more degrading than being deprived of freedom in the jungle. I slept, ate and lived like any of the real hostages in those camps. It shocked me to see their blank stares, the paleness on their faces and their hope to walk out of there one day alive; this is what I remember the most.
 
Life in the jungle is an arduous test of mental and physical strength, both of which are necessary to survive. When we arrived at the first camp, everyone wanted to know who we were, and why we were there. To a certain extent our presence there was a confirmation of their freedom but the skepticism in their eyes remained. We told them many times that their captivity was almost over, but they didn’t believe it. We were led to three different camps after long hikes and many hours by boat and vehicle through inhospitable terrain, without the faintest idea of what part of the jungle we were in. As the days passed we reached the conclusion that we were being led in circles around the same area just to throw off our sense of direction. For those who don’t know the jungle, everything is the same, green everywhere.

Forty-six Colombian policemen held prisoner by Marxist FARC rebels huddle in a boat June 20, 2001, as they are escorted by guerrillas from behind, near the end of a two-day river journey on their way to being freed in a unilateral release set for June 28. REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

The big day arrived and 300 policemen and soldiers recovered their freedom. All local and international media received them as they exited the jungle. The guerrilla leaders called it a humanitarian gesture.

A Marxist FARC rebel crosses over to land as 46 Colombian policemen held prisoner by the group huddle in a boat near the end of a two-day river journey on their way to being freed in a unilateral release set for June 28. The FARC have already freed more than 40 sick policemen and soldiers in return for the government returning 15 sick guerrillas held in state jails. Picture taken on June 20, 2001. REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

The saddest part of this story is that 6 years have passed and some of the group we saw are still kidnapped in the jungle; not all of them made it to freedom. Soldiers and policemen are still rotting in the jungle more than 11 years later.

But my work has had also beautiful and happy moments. I covered the carnival of Rio de Janeiro, which filled my soul with images of happy people to which dance is sacred in their lives. While walking back and forth taking pictures through the early hours of dawn, I did not feel tired because their happiness was enough to overcome my fatigue.

Members of Brazilian samba school Salgueiro dance in Rio de Janeiro’s Sambadrome during the first of two nights of competition, February 22, 2004. REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

Being a woman photographer among so many men has some advantages, depending on which part of the world you are in. Women have the ability to show another angle that men often do not see. I call it female sensitivity. We tend to do stories that are more human, emphasizing sensuality and childhood. I assume that it has to do with the maternal instinct we carry within.

The beauty of this job is that we get to cover all types of events, from politics, religion, and war, to sports and fashion. We often witness history being made.

Jewish Ethiopian men attend a morning prayer service at compound awaiting immigration to Israel in Gondor March 8, 2007. More than 5000 Ethiopian Jews are waiting to immigrate to Israel to reunite with their families. REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

A few days after being posted to Jerusalem I received a call from my editor who asked me to go to Hadassah hospital where Ariel Sharon had been taken. I froze for a few seconds. I ran to my hotel room, grabbed my equipment and I headed to the parking garage. I could not find my car, and when I finally managed to locate it I started to drive without first realizing that I didn’t have a clue where the hospital was.

I am a disaster with directions; I literally can get lost in an elevator. But that night my internal compass worked beautifully and I made it there. When I got to the place, there were at least 150 journalists. It was the news of the moment worldwide.  For me, it was also kind of ironic. The day Sharon fell sick I had photographed the pool pictures of his usual meeting with the ministers and to my surprise soon after, those were the last photos of Sharon as Prime Minister that the news agencies distributed of him.

Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon attends a ceremony completing the sale of Bank Leumi to a private U.S. investment group in his office in Jerusalem January 4, 2006.  REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

This is the way this job is. I never know what will happen tomorrow or, in this case, from one minute to the next. This is what I like most about my job; routine doesn’t exist.

In 2004 I went on an embed with U.S. troops in Iraq. I had to wait days for them to let us do something. It was one of the worst stories I have covered. Usually the fate of embeds are run by luck, and unfortunately I didn’t have much. As I waited I had no choice but to play cards with the soldiers on the outskirts of Falluja. They were young soldiers with little or no experience in war. Many were there simply because they couldn’t find any jobs back home.

One day we were sitting playing cards when suddenly a mortar landed near us; we heard the explosion and we all ran to take cover beneath armored vehicles. Five seconds later another mortar landed and killed eight soldiers. We all watched as their bodies flew through the air in a surreal scene that still haunts me. We were paralyzed. There was silence until the captain shouted, “This is Iraq. Move!” I took some pictures from the distance, they didn’t let me get closer as the injured where rushed onto a helicopter.

U.S. Marines carry an injured colleague after exploded a mortar at their position in Sunni Muslim city of Falluja, November 10, 2004.   REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

Traveling the world taking pictures and doing stories is interesting, but ultimately what counts for me are the memories, good or bad, that stay with me. The rest will only be a document, a file for history being done by an honest photographer.

Thanks to the camera, I have learned about various cultures in the world, their sorrows and joys, their hatred and alliances. It has taught me that tolerance and respect are key for human survival. No matter what our beliefs are, it is important to be impartial and tell the facts as they are.

A Mexican group performs the Aztec dance in honor of the dead in San Gregorio Atlapulco cemetery during the Day of the Dead in Mexico City, late November 1, 2009. On the Day of the Dead, Mexicans pay homage to their dead relatives by preparing meals and decorating their graves. The Day of the Dead festival has its origins in a pre-Hispanic Aztec belief that the dead return to Earth one day each year to visit their loved ones. REUTERS/Eliana Aponte

My nickname among the Reuters photographers in Tokyo is "Crasher".

They call me that because I always seem to get pictures right at the moment of a crash whenever I cover motorsports.

One colleague sometimes teases me saying "You’ve got to stop pouring oil on the track," and I answer: "I would never use oil -- I only use banana skins!"

In motorsports the most exciting moment you can capture in a picture is a crash.

That instant can be the difference between life and death, and it’s a picture that is most difficult to capture.

My technique is to pay attention to any unusual movements. Racers usually all try to keep to the same optimum path through a curve.

Any deviation from this can mean a crash may be imminent.

This is how I  caught the full sequence of Dani Pedorasa's crash in the 2007 MotoGP (top).

In much the same way, in the 2008 Formula One race, I caught the crash of McLaren's Lewis Hamilton and Ferrari's Felipe Massa as they fought hard for the championship.

But my crash experience at this year's Formula One Japan Grand Prix was very different.

During qualifying, I heard the voice of our chief photographer crackle over my walkie-talkie, "Toyota crash... Looks serious...".

I ran to the scene and when I arrived Toyota driver Timo Glock was lying on a stretcher with an oxygen mask.

At that instant, I feared I was looking at something that motorsports fans never want to see happen to the drivers.

But the next moment, Timo Glock's hand moved, and in a moment he was clearly waving to the crowd as he was put in an ambulance.

As I took another picture I felt my camera’s shutter clicked with a sense of relief.

Photo credits: REUTERS/Toru Hanai

Reuters photojournalists are continually bearing witness to events as they happen across the globe. They distribute over half a million pictures each year, pushing the boundaries of what news photography is and can be. Our World Now draws upon this unparalleled resource to document a year in the life of our vibrant, troubled, beautiful planet. In over 350 photographs, this book combines information and emotion to present a vivid mirror of our times. The second volume of this collector’s series is an indispensable visual record of a turbulent year that will be remembered as a turning point of our age.

Our World Now is available in U.S. bookstores. Click here or on the picture above to view a site dedicated to the book.

To be in the right place at the right moment - this is every photojournalist’s dream. To be on the scene to record the “decisive moment” with your camera.

Most photojournalists around the world consider Israel and the Palestinian Territories as "heaven" for great stories providing great pictures. Well they are wrong.

For a long time this place has produced some of the most memorable news photos ever but at a high cost, and not just to the millions of Israelis and Palestinians who have suffered in their daily lives through the conflict of the past two decades or so. A number of photographers and camera operators lost their lives or been badly injured while trying to convey the story and a great number of others have psychological scars from being exposed to scenes of death and destruction over long periods of time. 

Yes, Israel and the Palestinian territories are full of great images, but how easy is to find them and record them? 

Well - the 'finding' part is not too hard. Beepers are constantly beeping, SMS messages are constantly being sent keeping the large international press corps up to date on even the most obscure goings-on.  The Israeli Government Press Office, the Palestinian Authority, NGOs, the Israeli Defence Forces, settler groups, religious groups; all have very sophisticated media operations that fill your e-mail inbox, mobile phone and beeper with a constant stream of information.

The recording part is another story. It can seem as if everything is against you and everybody is trying to make your life difficult. Photographers here are  among the most competitive in the world ... and they are many. Security is a nightmare. Much of the time the authorities from both the Israeli and the Palestinian sides make things very difficult, except of course when they want you to shoot the picture/story that they want to get across. And do not forget, you are always subject to flying rocks, bullets, rockets, hate, blood and tears ... definitely not easy! 

On top of that - international agencies and newspapers take this story very seriously so they tend to send their best photographers here ... and thats in addition to the incredible local talent already here.  I'm lucky that two of the most talented, dedicated and sensitive photographers in the region are on my team; Ronen Zvulun, who is based in Jerusalem, and Mohammed Salem, based in Gaza, are fine examples of how - after finding the story - recording it becomes an art in itself. Click on their names above to enjoy samples of their work.

(Photo credits: (from top to bottom: REUTERS/Mohammed Salem, REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun, REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun, REUTERS/Mohammed Salem)

In the history of embeds, this one has been pretty unremarkable so far. I kicked things off in Dubai with an impulse purchase of a Canon 5D Mark II. Stills and video ! ASA 6400 ! 20 MB files ! It seemed like a great idea until I dropped it in the mud on a patrol. So much for the resale value.

After getting to Bagram Air Base, it took a while until I was able to test out the new gear. We had a four-day wait due to rain, which delayed or cancelled flights and gave me plenty of time to indulge in the ice cream bar at the dining hall.  On day five I got a late-night flight to Jalalabad, where I received a briefing about my embed area and made plans to get further north.  Finally, a week after my embed had officially begun, I took a 20 minute ride on a Chinook helicopter and arrived to Foward Operating Base Bostick, located in Kunar Province about 10 miles from the Pakistan border.

The view from the base is stunning. Snow capped mountains to the east mark the border with Pakistan, the Kunar River runs through the valley, and at night the stars in the Milky Way seem close enough to touch.  This being Christmas, there was a candle-lit church service in the chapel on the 24th, followed on Christmas Day by caroling and hot chocolate. The war seemed pretty far away.

Even though the base at Bostick hasn’t been attacked recently, the area isn’t exactly safe. The only road leading up the Kunar Valley is a dirt track, hardly big enough for a humvee in places, and during my stay two local trucks were stopped and burned, one driver was killed and another kidnapped.  Whether this was insurgent related or the work of criminal gangs wasn’t immediately known, but it did send a strong message to other drivers who were bringing goods into the valley.

The area of my embed extends from Bostick up to a couple of small combat outposts in Nuristan Province, and January 5th, after two weeks at FOB Bostick, I finally got the helicopter up to Combat Outpost Lowell. Lowell has the dubious honor of being one of the most heavily attacked US military bases in Afghanistan. It is located in a strategic position at the intersection of two valleys, and as such, is an important checkpoint for deterring insurgent movement north to south and east to west. It unfortunately also sits in a natural bowl, surrounded on all sides by tree covered hills, which make excellent cover for the local fighers to fire down from with their AK-47’s, RPG’s, mortars and so on.

Generally speaking, the further you get from headquarters, the more austere the living conditions become, and COP Lowell is no exception. The Afghan dust has turned into mud with recent rains, and the paths between buildings are a quagmire deep enough to ensure that nobody walks around with clean boots. The ice cream bar is gone, along with gatorade, Cokes and Red Bulls. No PX if you run out of cigarettes and no cable TV. But there’s no shortage of hospitality, and I’ve been given my own room complete with a heater and a desk. It could be much worse.

Journalists are no strangers to the soldiers of Apache Troop at Lowell. The New York Times was here in November and as the men have been telling me, at the time there was plenty of fighting.  They point out the bald spots on the surrounding hills where fighter jets dropped 500 pound bombs during firefights, the holes in the outhouse from a Dushka anti-aircraft machine gun, and mention the laundry boy who lost an arm when an RPG round came through the roof of a nearby building.

But this week it’s been quiet. So today we walked up to the nearby village of Kamu for a weekly meeting with the local shura, or tribal council. Captain Frank Hooker, Apache troop commander, along with members of the Afghan Army and US Marines, sat down with three men from the shura to discuss current issues and future projects. Sitting outside in a circle of chairs, the men talked in turn about local security, food shipments, construction projects and other topics. The atmosphere was cordial, and after tea was served, we all gathered together for a group photo and shook hands.

We walked back to the base and I went up to my room to file a few pictures.  As I started writing this story someone came running up the stairs shouting “contact” and all the soldiers rushed to their fighting positions. It turned out to be a false alarm, but I’m sure it won’t be the last time they get the call.

On Jan. 14 Reuters hosted a live video Q&A with our renowned photographer Finbarr O’Reilly about his experiences in the war-torn Democratic Republic of Congo. Finbarr addressed what drew him to Africa and the most difficult aspects of being a photographer in a war zone.

Finbarr is still available to answer questions, submit them in the comments section below or send a Twitter message with the hash tag “#finbarr” .

Check out “Death all around,” his multimedia report from a Congolese refugee camp, dispatches from Chad and Afghanistan, selected photos from his portfolio, and an audio slideshow from his most recent Congo assignment.

****

On my latest trip to report on Congo’s seemingly unending cycle of violence, I wanted to go beyond generic images of downtrodden refugees and brutal conflict.

I spent two years in Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda from 2002 to 2004, covering the regional war that engulfed much of central Africa, and I grew to admire the strength and humour of the long-suffering Congolese.

I returned in November to cover the rebel offensive on the eastern town of Goma. When heavy gunfire erupted while I was photographing at Kibati refugee camp, I was quickly offered shelter in a flimsy tent by Boniface Buhoro, a tailor trying to protect his sister and three-year-old son.

Such kindness is typical of Congo ʼs resilient population, subject to miserable circumstances, misrule and war. Refugees frequently offered warm greetings, friendly smiles and handshakes in squalid camps where they may not have eaten for days.

Amid the chaos of fighting, people fleeing their homes and the demand for quick news pictures, I tried to slow things down by taking intimate portraits.

By shooting with a very low depth of field, I hoped to extract my subjects from their surroundings and portray them as individuals with names and stories that matter.

More than five million people have died, most from lack of access to food or basic health, during a decade of fighting in Congo. This makes Congo ’s enduring conflict the deadliest since World War Two.

Most of the victims perish far from sight, deep in the bush. This time, death seemed all around.

Driving to the front line early one morning, mist hung over the road and smoke from Nyiragongo volcano darkened the sky.

Marking the first rebel position were the bodies of two government soldiers, a bullet through each of their skulls.

Traveling north later, I reached the hilltop village of Kirumba , where local Mai-Mai militiamen had clashed with government troops fleeing the Tutsi rebel advance.

The army quickly buried their dead, but the Mai-Mai corpses were set on fire by beer-drinking troops.

I found them the next morning, fat still bubbling on one charred corpse, its genitals cut off. Another body had an umbrella stabbed into its face. Soldiers joked and laughed.

Back near Kibati camp, I followed a funeral procession into a sun-dappled banana grove. A tiny purple casket containing the body of eight-month old Alexandrine Kabitsebangumi, who had died from cholera, was being lowered into the dark earth.

The grove was filled with graves. As women sang a haunting hymn, the mourners moved aside, allowing me to photograph.

There’s no joy getting a good picture from a baby’s funeral.

Another victim, another memory, another ghost.

Congo is still defined by Joseph Conrad’s book, Heart of Darkness, which described “the vilest scramble for loot that ever disfigured the history of human conscience.” The horror Conrad depicts in his haunting novel, written more than a century ago, lingers today, with Belgian colonial greed replaced by rapacious warlords and profiteers still raping the nation’s vast resources at a great human toll.

But signs of hope linger. I covered the tumultuous run-up to 2006 elections and after tense days of photographing riots, mob violence and gun battles in Congo’s capital Kinshasa, I would head not to the nearest bar, but to a dilapidated compound, home to children crippled by polio. There, among dozens of twisted bodies and withered limbs, the day’s tension melted away.

The 100 children at the Stand Proud compound in Kinshasa must rank among the world’s most disadvantaged. Handicapped, impoverished, often rejected or abandoned, and living in Africa’s deadliest war zone, they should have little to celebrate. Instead, the lively “polio kids” offer an oasis of hope, unity and optimism in a vast country marked by despair. Despite their polio-damaged legs, wrapped in casts or makeshift braces fashioned from scrap metal, the children dance enthusiastically to loud Congolese music or challenge visitors to madcap games of soccer.

These moments, along with the brave, resilient people I met in refugee camps define the country’s character more than the misery and violence.

For sub-editors on Reuters Singapore Picture Desk, one of this year’s performance targets is a “shooting assignment”. They have to select and plan a valid photographic assignment and then shoot pictures for the wire. The exercise is intended to give them practical insight into the working lives of busy photographers in the field and the decisions and operational challenges they face on a daily basis. 

Shahida Patail is one such sub-editor.

Up until now my picture taking had been limited to holiday snaps and friends’ weddings but the thought of shooting a picture for the Reuters wire was certainly appealing.

In my eagerness I decided to go to Arab Street and on a working day to boot. There was no concrete idea in my head, but I kept thinking of the colourful shop houses and the much-photographed Sultan Mosque and felt confident that I’d be able to find a subject. Luckily, before leaving the office, my boss Pedja Kujundzic suggested a possible angle - old buildings contrasted with new buildings.

Off I went only to find all my enthusiasm melted in the searing heat as I realized I had no idea what to shoot. I ended up taking random images. I couldn’t seem to find the right angle to deliver the shots I had in mind. The shop houses suddenly seemed more dirty than colourful, and every building seemed to be blocked by those blasted trees and lampposts.

And every time I tried to take a photo with people in it, they would quickly turn or walk away. My hopes were raised when I saw one foreign worker sitting in a corner of an old shop house, tiffin carrier in hand as he prepared to eat his lunch. I was already fantasizing  about the wonderful portrait picture it would make, when he saw me and got up rather menacingly. Panicked, I abruptly turned my camera away and pretended to be shooting an adjacent building. When I felt brave enough to look back in his direction again, he was gone.

Memo to self:  

-Plan the assignment properly. Have some idea of what you are looking for - unless you wanna walk around for hours in the heat uselessly lugging heavy equipment!

-Bring a trolley back or backpack - the weight of the equipment is an issue particularly if you are not used to it. 

-Go do the assignment on an off day, not a working day. You need plenty of time and patience to wait for that picture to come, and it’s best to do it while the mind is still fresh.

After my rather unproductive maiden shoot, I was ready for another go. This time, I was better prepared. I picked a day that I wasn’t working, I dressed comfortably, I brought along a lightweight backpack.

Earlier, I had discussed possible ideas with Editor in Charge David Loh, who brought to my attention the railway track running through the Portsdown area. He told me of families living in the nearby HDB estate who had made the area near the track their private little “gardens”, growing food and plants. So my theme for the day would be the railway and its little communities.

My first stop was the railway station in Tanjong Pagar. This is the starting point for trains leaving Singapore. I arrived before 8am, and started taking shots of passengers buying tickets and waiting for the train. When the first train finally pulled into the station at about 8.30am, I followed the hordes of people onto the platform - five minutes later I had been unceremoniously ushered back into the waiting hall by a fierce-looking train conductor. “No photography on the platform,” he said in a booming voice that made nearby heads turn in my direction. At that moment I wished that the 20D (plus grip) was a lot less conspicuous.

So I turned my attention to the station building. It’s a nice building, built in 1932 in a distinctly European style. After taking a few shots there, I took a taxi to Portsdown.

Armed with a street directory, I thought I could easily find the track that runs through the area. I was wrong. The taxi made a few wrong turns, and finally I decided to explore on foot. Kind Mr Taxi Driver agreed to wait for me as I trekked across a field towards the railway track partially hidden by long grass. Yes, there were old HDB buildings across the track, but there was no one and certainly no “gardens”. The whole area was quite desolate. Plus all sorts of insects were having a go at me, so I ran back to the taxi. Luckily, Mr Taxi Driver told me the track ran through the nearby Jalan Hang Jebat, so we went there. This time, access to the track wasn’t hampered by overgrown vegetation or bloodthirsty insects, but there was no sight of the train. After taking a few shots, I slowly walked back to the waiting taxi. I was about 50 metres away from the track when I heard the chugging of the train. I turned and ran back - too late. The train was too fast for me, and by the time I raised my camera the train was gone. Determined to catch the train, I went to Bukit Timah, where there was a small station. I waited for a long time for the train to appear, and finally gave up.

So my rail theme wasn’t working out. I then remembered David mentioning that the high-rise buildings in Telok Blangah offered spectacular views of the port. I tried my luck, but the tiny corridors gave a very restricted view.

Desperate now, I thought hard and decided that Mount Faber would have good views of the port. So I headed there, and realised the hill had decent views of the city and residential skyline. I took some shots, and on my way back took some photos of the cable cars travelling to and from the hill.

It was evening when I got back to our office at Science Park Drive, but the day had been fruitful - 2 pictures were moved to the wire, and 5 others to the RPA archive.

 Memo to self - 2:

- When faced with challenges, improvise! I should have bought a train ticket and hopped onto the train; it would have offered plenty of shots and the conductor would have no reason to chase me away. And I should have knocked on doors at that Telok Blangah flat…

- If there’s time, recce the place you’re intending to shoot. Things change and people move, so a little bit of research beforehand doesn’t hurt.

- Enough trains!

It was third time lucky and thing really started to come together at the day-care centre for elderly folks. It was cramped and messy, and it was a challenge for me to find a suitable place to position myself and take decent shots. But the patients at the centre were all lovely and smiley and really made my shoot worthwhile.

This is my favourite shot - a therapist massaging a patient. When I saw the clean background behind the therapist, I knew immediately I could compose something worthwhile here. What was a bonus for me was that the patient’s face was quite expressive, but I did not notice this when I first took the shot ‘cos it was dark. And of course the camera LCD screen is small. When I opened the picture in Photoshop back in the office, I was pleased with the result. 

I was extremely nervous when taking these shots of the patients undergoing pet therapy. The dogs that were brought in were MASSIVE, and they were barking a lot. Of course they’re harmless but I’ve never been surrounded by so many big dogs in my life. Every time I crouched down to take a picture, I was afraid of accidentally stepping on a dog’s tail, because the space was so tight.

An interesting challenge is how to tell the story without including the subject in the photographs. It’s interesting because, by avoiding the obvious and familiar, sometimes a greater sense of the occasion, and the emotions involved,  can be conveyed.

For example, take the current visit by Pope Benedict XVI to the United States.  Clearly the Pope was the centre of attention, and there are very good photographs of him that were taken and published in newspapers and on websites around the world. Photographs of him bring pleasure and comfort to millions.

 The fact that he is in the States is of interest too, and it is important to take photographs that locate him there. On the other hand we are familiar with photographs that show the Pope in person, and what strikes me when looking at the Reuters coverage of the current visit is just how much the passion, reverence and joy felt by so many, can be conveyed in photographs that don’t show him in at all.

Jason Reed’s photograph of the red carpet being unrolled at Andrews Air Force Base sets the scene for the arrival of a VIP

But it’s the facial expressions that truly convey the emotion felt - simply put, pure joy.

Erin Siegal’s photograph of a nun waiting for the Pope to arrive at a rally in New York conveys the joy perfectly

Max Rossi captures the uninhibited emotions of a nun at the same event

This girl can’t contain her emotions any longer as the Pope arrives at the New York rally, captured by Max Rossi.

But it isn’t just faces that convey emotion - there other scenes that are just as graphic. However, I was trying to choose photographs that do not actually show the Pope, but as this is a photograph of a photograph,  I don’t really think it’s cheating!

Brian Snyder’s photograph of a woman holding up a greeting  at the New York rally conveys an emotion in a very simple way.

For the photographer there are numerous rich images to observe and capture, that serve to convey the emotion in a very elegant manner.

Max Rossi’s photograph shows a bishop waiting for the arrival of the Pope at the Saint Joseph seminary in New York

Brian Snyder’ photograph, shot at the same event,  gives an idea of the length of time people were prepared to wait to see the Pope

This photograph by Larry Downing speaks for itself, although I have left the original caption to give all the facts any picture editor could need -

“Sister Chantal Peyton of the Little Sisters of the Poor, in Newark, Delaware, (L), uses a pair of binoculars next to Sister Julie Horseman of the Little Sisters of the Poor, in Washington D.C., in the stadium before Pope Benedict XVI conducts Mass in Washington Nationals Park during his visit to the United States, April 17, 2008″

Of course, a Papal visit attracts people with a variety of views, and the photograph below conveys emotion too, albeit different from any of the other pictures here.

Larry Downing’s photograph shows demonstrators waving signs in front of the White House as the Pope leaves after attending a welcome ceremony

…and finally, here a photograph of the Pope (even though you can’t see him), which is aesthetically pleasing - but the heavy security reminds us that a visit by the Pope arouses emotions in some people who might want to take their feeling further than waving banners.

Carlos Barria’s photograph shows the Pope, in the Popemobile,  passing St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York on April 19

Japan’s sleepy town of Iga offered an opportunity for me to write my first story for the news wire. Iga is known to many Japanese as one of the traditional home towns of the ninja. I was looking forward to seeing tens of thousands ninja clad enthusiasts, the ninja themed-train and a house with secret escape passages - the home of a real ninja.

The hardest part was knowing where to start - that and deciding on what the story’s ’selling point’ would be in text terms rather than pictures. Would I be able to persuade people to give me both tantelising ninja tidbits and interesting quotes?

I first interviewed the self-proclaimed grandson of a real ninja who told me that his grandfather was always out on the lookout for ways to further his skills had even mastered the art of hypnotism. A museum curator  that the web of myth and mystery surrounding the world of the ninja fired people’s imaginations and for this reason the ninja lives on.

These were details that could only be related in words rather than pictures.

Shooting and writing have many things in common. Whether writer or photographer, one must think, “what would keep the viewer’s attention for at least one more second?” “Is it this angle? Should I crop the picture like this?” or, “which quote is more interesting? What headline is catchier?”

Needless to say both disciplines call for ethics and accuracy.

But shooting requires instantaneous reactions and concentration - the time it takes to make or break a picture. We can’t ask the subject to smile again, and goals and penalties on the soccer field cannot be replayed in real life. Writers can draft, rewrite and call sources back to check details again but they also need to have an overall view of an issue, information from all sides and different perspectives to balance their offerings, which is often something photographers cannot provide.

So, which is more difficult?

May I haven’t fully experienced the obstacles and challenges which face one of our text writers, but for me every photographic assignment is a battle because there are no real answers. There is no handbook for creativity.

We photographers need eyes in the back of our heads and although we may generate most of it ourselves we work under enormous pressure to distill the essence of the story and capture it in a moment.