photo essays guardian

The Year of Endurance

Hope and uncertainty amid a pandemic that wouldn’t end.

In 2021, the pandemic forced us all to think hard about who we do and don’t trust

Introduction by david rowell.

As a nation, we are supposed to be built around trust. Look at the back of the bills in your wallet. “In God We Trust.”

Trust the system.

Trust yourself.

Trust but verify.

Trust your instincts.

Love may be the emotion we like to think ultimately propels us, but it’s trust that informs how we go about our daily lives. And yet. Our level of trust, our very foundation, has been crumbling for a long time now. Scandals, abuse and corruption in the major pillars of our society — religious institutions, education, business, military, government, health care, law enforcement, even the sports world — have made us a wary people.

When the pandemic came, first as murmurs that were easy to tune out, then as an unbounded crisis we couldn’t tune into enough, our relationship to trust was newly infected with something we didn’t fully understand. And before long, who and what we trusted — or didn’t — in the form of elected leaders, scientists and doctors became one more cause of death here and all over the world. In this way, distrust was a kind of pandemic itself: widely contagious and passed by the mouth.

As the first American casualties of covid-19 were announced, President Trump kept insisting it would disappear “with the heat” or “at the end of the month” or “without a vaccine.” Like a disgraced, fringe science teacher, he entertained this idea at one coronavirus news conference: “I see the disinfectant that knocks it out in a minute, one minute. And is there a way we can do something like that by injection inside, or almost a cleaning?” With leadership like this, the country was receiving an injection — of chaos.

The pandemic ripped through the rest of 2020, and America was not only more splintered than ever, but also a dangerous place to be. Some politicians declared to the public, “I trust the science,” as if that were an unprecedented and heroic stance.

As we navigated our way into 2021, questions about what to believe led — painfully and predictably — to doubts about the most reliable way we had to stay safe: wearing masks. With the return to schools looming, the debate about masks and children — masks as protectors, or masks as educational folly — played out like a plague of rants. No one seemed to trust others to do the right thing anymore, whatever that was. By summer’s end, trust felt like the latest variant to avoid.

Trust takes lots of forms, but can we actually see it in a photograph the way we can identify a cloud or a wave, or an overt moment of joy or sadness? The photo essays that follow capture a full tableau of human responses in year two of the pandemic — trepidation, but also a sense of renewal; celebration, but caution as well. And despite rancor and confusion still being in as steady supply as the vaccine itself, the permutations of trust have their own presence here, too, if we’re open enough to seeing them.

When Jay Wescott went on tour with rock band Candlebox, he was documenting one of the many performing acts that returned to the road this summer, after the long hiatus. On tour there’s a lot variables you can control, and just as many, if not more, that you can’t — and in the time of covid, control and trust form their own essential but perilous interplay. The picture of the band’s drummer, Robin Diaz, who is vaccinated but unmasked, setting up his kit in such proximity to road manager Carlos Novais, vaccinated and masked, not only captures that still-odd dynamic that goes into making any live performance happen right now; it is also a welcome contrast to all the images of masked and unmasked protesters screaming at each other about what and whom to trust. On tour with Candlebox, Westcott observed how trust is carrying the band forward, creating harmonies on and off the stage.

Much farther away, in Michael Robinson Chavez’s pictures from Sicily, we bear witness to religious celebrations as part of saint’s days, which were canceled last year because of the pandemic. The celebrations resumed, though stripped down, this September, with vaccines readily available, but then, as Chavez notes, the people of Sicily were vaccinated at lower numbers than those in other regions of the country. In one image, we see a tuba player, his mask down below his chin as he blows his notes out into the world. Behind him are masked adults and maskless children. And, perhaps all through the festival, a trust in God to watch over them.

Lucía Vázquez trained her lens on the eager crowds of young women who descended upon Miami, a city known for its own style of carnival-type celebrations, though decidedly less holy ones. These women have left masks out of their outfits and are trusting something not quite scientific and not quite political, but more personal: their guts. Such a calculation comes down to a conviction that either you won’t get the coronavirus, or, if you do, you’ll survive. It means placing a lot of trust in yourself.

As a visual meditation, the pictures in this issue offer a portrait of a historical moment in which trust and distrust have defined us. Ultimately, the photographs that follow, reflecting various realities of the pandemic, are tinted with hope that we can reclaim our lives. Not exactly as they were in the past, but in a way that still resembles how we had once imagined them for the future. These images remind us that even in our fractured, confused and suffering world, it remains possible that where we can find trust again, we can be healed.

Ready to Rock

Unmasked fans and mayflies: on tour with the band candlebox, text and photographs by jay westcott.

I n February 2020, after a dear friend passed away (not from covid), all I could think about was getting on the road with a band so I could lose myself in the work and create something that would bring joy to people. The world had other plans, though.

Sixteen months later, I headed out on tour with Candlebox. Almost 30 years has passed since the Seattle hard-rock group released its debut album and saw it sell more than 4 million copies. Frontman Kevin Martin and his current lineup invited me along to document the first part of their tour. I packed up my gear, drove west, and met the band at Soundcheck, a rehearsal and gear storage facility in Nashville, as they prepared for the tour.

Whenever people learn that I photograph musicians, inevitably they ask me what it’s like on a tour bus. I tell people it’s like camping with your co-workers from the office where you all sleep in the same tent. For weeks on end. That sours their midlife fantasies about digging out that guitar from the garage and hitting the road to become a rock star.

The people who do tour and play music, build the sets, mix the sound, sell the merch and lug the gear night after night are some of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. They are a special breed of artists, deep thinkers, poets, masters of their instruments. Music has the ability to make you move and stop you in your tracks, to change your mood, make you smile, cry, think. The goal is the same: Put on a great show. Every night. Play like it could be your last show.

It’s easy to sit back and armchair quarterback on social media about the risks of holding festivals and rock concerts amid the pandemic, but this is what people do for a living. Few people buy albums or CDs or even download music anymore. It’s all about streaming and grabbing viewers on social media now. Touring and merch sales are about the only way musicians have to make money these days. Music is meant to be performed in front of people, a shared experience. With everybody on the bus vaccinated and ready to go, we headed to Louisville for the first of a 49-show run.

The crowd of mostly older millennials and GenXers were ready for a rock show. They knew all the words to the hits in the set — especially Candlebox’s mega-hit from the ’90s, “Far Behind” — and were into the band’s new songs too. It felt good. Then came the mayflies, in massive swarms.

The next stop on the tour was a festival along the Mississippi River in Iowa. I was up early, and as soon as we pulled in you could see mayflies dancing in the air all around us. As the day wore on, the flies intensified, and by nightfall any kind of light revealed hundreds upon hundreds of them, dancing in their own way like the crowd of unmasked fans below them. Also there were Confederate flags everywhere. Boats tied together on the river flew Trump flags in the warm summer breeze.

I was asleep when we crossed the river and made our way to St. Louis, the third stop on the tour and my last with the band. A great crowd: Close your eyes and you can easily picture yourself at Woodstock ’94. But it’s 2021 and Kevin Martin and company are still here.

Jay Westcott is a photographer in Arlington.

‘He Gave Me Life’

A cuban single mother reflects on isolation with her son, text and photographs by natalia favre.

S ingle mother Ara Santana Romero, 30, and her 11-year-old son, Camilo, have spent the past year and a half practically isolated in their Havana apartment. Just before the pandemic started, Camilo had achieved his biggest dream, getting accepted into music school. Two weeks after classes began, the schools closed and his classes were only televised. A return to the classroom was expected for mid-November, at which point all the children were scheduled to be vaccinated. According to a UNICEF analysis, since the beginning of the pandemic, 139 million children around the world have lived under compulsory home confinement for at least nine months.

Before the pandemic, Ara had undertaken several projects organizing literary events for students. After Havana went into quarantine and Camilo had to stay home, her days consisted mainly of getting food, looking after her son and doing housework. As a single mother with no help, she has put aside her wishes and aspirations. But Ara told me she never regretted having her son: “He gave me life.”

Natalia Favre is a photographer based in Havana.

Life After War in Gaza

A healing period of picnics, weddings and vaccinations, text and photographs by salwan georges.

A s I went from Israel into the Gaza Strip, I realized I was the only person crossing the border checkpoint that day. But I immediately saw that streets were vibrant with people shopping and wending through heavy traffic. There are hardly any working traffic lights in Gaza City, so drivers wave their hands out their windows to alert others to let them pass.

Despite the liveliness, recent trauma lingered in the air: In May, Israeli airstrikes destroyed several buildings and at least 264 Palestinians died. The fighting came after thousands of rockets were fired from Gaza into Israel, where at least 16 people died. Workers were still cleaning up when I visited in late August, some of them recycling rubble — such as metal from foundations — to use for rebuilding.

I visited the city of Beit Hanoun, which was heavily damaged. I met Ibrahim, whose apartment was nearly destroyed, and as I looked out from a hole in his living room, I saw children gathered to play a game. Nearby there is a sports complex next to a school. Young people were playing soccer.

Back in Gaza City, families come every night to Union Soldier Park to eat, shop and play. Children and their parents were awaiting their turn to pay for a ride on an electric bike decorated with LED lights. In another part of town, not too far away, the bazaar and the markets were filled ahead of the weekend.

The beach in Gaza City is the most popular destination for locals, particularly because the Israeli government, which occupies the territory, generally does not allow them to leave Gaza. Families picnicked in the late afternoon and then stayed to watch their kids swim until after sunset. One of the local traditions when someone gets married is to parade down the middle of a beachfront road so the groom can dance with relatives and friends.

Amid the activities, I noticed that many people were not wearing face coverings, and I learned that the coronavirus vaccination rate is low. The health department started placing posters around the city to urge vaccination and set up a weekly lottery to award money to those who get immunized.

I also attended the funeral of a boy named Omar Abu al-Nil, who was wounded by the Israeli army — probably by a bullet — during one of the frequent protests at the border. He later died at the hospital from his wounds. More than 100 people attended, mainly men. They carried Omar to the cemetery and buried him as his father watched.

Salwan Georges is a Washington Post staff photographer.

Beyond the Numbers

At home, i constructed a photo diary to show the pandemic’s human toll, text and photographs by beth galton.

I n March 2020, while the coronavirus began its universal spread, my world in New York City became my apartment. I knew that to keep safe I wouldn’t be able to access my studio, so I brought my camera home and constructed a small studio next to a window.

I began my days looking at the New York Times and The Washington Post online, hoping to find a glimmer of positive news. What I found and became obsessed with were the maps, charts and headlines, all of which were tracking the coronavirus’s spread. I printed them out to see how the disease had multiplied and moved, soon realizing that each of these little visual changes affected millions of people. With time, photographs of people who had died began to appear in the news. Grids of faces filled the screen; many died alone, without family or friends beside them.

This series reflects my emotions and thoughts through the past year and a half. By photographing data and images, combined with botanicals, my intent was to speak to the humanity of those affected by this pandemic. I used motion in the images to help convey the chaos and apprehensions we were all experiencing. I now see that this assemblage is a visual diary of my life during the pandemic.

Beth Galton is a photographer in New York.

Finding Hope in Seclusion

A self-described sickle cell warrior must stay home to keep safe, text and photographs by endia beal.

O nyekachukwu Onochie, who goes by Onyeka, is a 28-year-old African American woman born with sickle cell anemia. She describes herself as a sickle cell warrior who lives each day like it’s her last. “When I was younger,” she told me, “I thought I would live until my mid-20s because I knew other people with sickle cell that died in their 20s.”

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention describes sickle cell anemia as an inherited red blood cell disorder that causes those cells to become hard and sticky, and appear C-shaped. Healthy red blood cells are round and move through small blood vessels to carry oxygen, whereas sickle cells die earlier and transport less oxygen. The disorder can cause debilitating pain and organ failure.

In June 2020, Onyeka began preparing her body for a stem cell transplant — a new treatment — and underwent the procedure in April. She is now home in Winston-Salem, N.C., recovering from the transplant. Despite the positive results thus far, Onyeka’s immune system is compromised and she is at greater risk of severe illness or death from viruses.

I asked about her life during the pandemic. She told me: “My new normal includes video chat lunch dates. I have more energy now than ever before, but I have to stay indoors to protect myself from airborne viruses, among other things.” Onyeka believes she has been given a new life with endless possibilities — even though she is temporarily homebound.

Endia Beal is an artist based in Winston-Salem, N.C.

Baker’s Choice

A fun-loving, self-taught baker decides to open her shop despite the pandemic, text and photographs by marvin joseph.

T iffany Lightfoot is the owner and founder of My Cake Theory, where she merges her love of fashion with her gifts as a baker. Undaunted by the pandemic, she opened her first brick-and-mortar shop on Capitol Hill last year. Lightfoot, 41, combined the skills she learned as a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology with dozens of hours watching the Food Network and YouTube videos — and spun her self-taught baking into a business. With these photographs I wanted to show how much fun she has baking — while building a career she clearly loves.

Marvin Joseph is a Washington Post staff photographer.

Leap of Faith

Despite low vaccination rates, sicilians resume religious parades, text and photographs by michael robinson chavez.

T he island of Sicily has been overrun and conquered by numerous empires and civilizations. The year 2020 brought a new and deadly conqueror, the coronavirus. The lockdown was absolute — even church doors were shut tight. But in 2021, Sicilians brought life and traditions back to their streets.

Saint’s days, or festas, are important events on the Sicilian calendar. Last year, for the first time in more than a century, some towns canceled their festas. The arrival of vaccines this year seemed to offer hope that the processions would once again march down the ancient streets. However, a surge in summer tourism, while helping the local economy, also boosted the coronavirus infection rate.

Sicily has the lowest vaccination rate in Italy. Nevertheless, scaled-down celebrations have reappeared in the island’s streets. In the capital city of Palermo, residents gathered for the festa honoring the Maria della Mercede (Madonna of Mercy), which dates to the 16th century. Children were hoisted aloft to be blessed by the Virgin as a marching band played in a small piazza fronting the church that bears her name. Local bishops did not permit the normal procession because of the pandemic, so local children had their own, carrying a cardboard re-creation of the Virgin through the labyrinth of the famous Il Capo district’s narrow streets.

As the fireworks blossomed overhead and the marching band played on, it was easy to see that Sicilians were embracing a centuries-old tradition that seems certain to last for many more to come.

Michael Robinson Chavez is a Washington Post staff photographer.

Defiant Glamour

After long months of covid confinement, a fearless return to 2019 in miami beach, text and photographs by lucía vázquez.

O n Miami Beach’s Ocean Drive I’ve seen drunk girls hitting other drunk girls, and I’ve seen men high on whatever they could afford, zombie-walking with their mouths and eyes wide open amid the tourists. I’ve seen partyers sprawled on the pavement just a few feet from the Villa Casa Casuarina, the former Versace mansion.

I’ve seen groups of women wearing fake eyelashes as long and thick as a broom, and flashing miniature bras, and smoking marijuana by a palm tree in the park, next to families going to the beach. I’ve seen five girls standing on the back of a white open-air Jeep twerking in their underwear toward the street.

My photographs, taken in August, capture South Beach immersed in this untamed party mood with the menace of the delta variant as backdrop. They document young women enjoying the summer after more than a year of confinement. Traveling from around the country, they made the most of their return to social life by showing off their style and skin, wearing their boldest party attire. I was drawn to the fearlessness of their outfits and their confidence; I wanted to show how these women identify themselves and wish to be perceived, a year and a half after covid-19 changed the world.

Lucía Vázquez is a journalist and photographer based in New York and Buenos Aires.

A Giving Spirit

‘this pandemic has taught me to be even closer to my family and friends’, text and photographs by octavio jones.

M arlise Tolbert-Jones, who works part time for an air conditioning company in Tampa, spends most of her time caring for her 91-year-old father, Rudolph Tolbert, and her aunt Frances Pascoe, who is 89. Marlise visits them daily to make sure they’re eating a good breakfast and taking their medications. In addition to being a caregiver, Marlise, 57, volunteers for a local nonprofit food pantry, where she helps distribute groceries for families. Also, she volunteers at her church’s food pantry, where food is distributed every Saturday morning.

“I’m doing this because of my [late] mother, who would want me to be there for the family and the community,” she told me. “I’ve had my struggles. I’ve been down before, but God has just kept me stable and given me the strength to keep going. This pandemic has taught me to be even closer to my family and friends.”

Octavio Jones is an independent photojournalist based in Tampa.

First, people paused. Then they took stock. Then they persevered.

Text and photographs by anastassia whitty.

W e all know the pandemic has challenged people and altered daily routines. I created this photo essay to highlight the perspectives and experiences of everyday people, specifically African Americans: What does their “new normal” look like? I also wanted to demonstrate how they were able to persevere. One such person is Maria J. Hackett, 30, a Brooklyn photographer, dancer and mother of a daughter, NiNi. Both are featured on the cover.

I asked Maria her thoughts on what the pandemic has meant for her. “Quarantine opened up an opportunity to live in a way that was more healthy while taking on much-needed deep healing,” she told me. “It was my mental and emotional health that began breaking me down physically. ... I put things to a stop as my health began to deteriorate. I decided I will no longer chase money — but stay true to my art, plan and trust that things will come together in a healthier way for us. I focused more on letting my daughter guide us and on her remaining happy with her activities and social life.”

“Enrolling her in camps and classes like dance and gymnastics led me to develop a schedule and routine,” Maria explained, “opening room for me to complete my first dance residency in my return to exploration of movement. I made time to share what I know with her and what she knows with me.”

Jasmine Hamilton of Long Island, 32, talked in similiar terms. She too became more focused on mental health and fitness. She told me: “The pandemic has demonstrated that life is short and valuable, so I’m more open to creating new experiences.”

Anastassia Whitty is a photographer based in New York.

About this story

Photo editing by Dudley M. Brooks and Chloe Coleman. Design and development by Audrey Valbuena. Design editing by Suzette Moyer and Christian Font. Editing by Rich Leiby. Copy editing by Jennifer Abella and Angie Wu.

Striking images: the 20th century, as told by Guardian photographers – in pictures

From the Irish civil war to anti-apartheid protests, a new exhibition delves into the legendary Guardian picture library

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It was in 1905 that the Manchester Guardian published its first ever photograph, of the Angel Stone in Manchester Cathedral. Three years later, the paper hired its first staff photographer, Walter Doughty. In many ways the story of photography at the Guardian mirrors the story of the 20th century itself. And it’s a story that’s currently being told in a new exhibition, The Picture Library, at the Photographers’ Gallery, London, opening this week.

Woman sitting amid rubble, Irish civil war, Dublin, 1922, photographed by Walter Doughty

Some of Walter Doughty’s glass plate negatives survive, most notably those he exposed in Dublin in 1922 during the Irish civil war.

In the 1960s, even after major editorial departments were established in London and the name “Manchester” had been dropped from the masthead, the picture library stayed put in the north of England while another parallel one was created in the capital. Both newsrooms maintained a roster of staff photographers and associated facilities such as darkrooms. In the 1980s, the Manchester library finally moved south but it still sat alongside, rather than being integrated with, its London twin.

Sir Anthony Eden speaks at Kings Hall, Belle Vue, Manchester, 1955

With the advent of digital technologies in the 1990s, the picture library became increasingly redundant; nowadays it is used, primarily, for obituaries. The entire collection – some 100,000 individual files – has been transferred to the Guardian Foundation where professional archivists have repackaged it, catalogued it and made it available for study and research.

The selection of photographs for the Photographers’ Gallery exhibition includes everything from vintage treasures and discoloured agency wire photos to classic examples of the work of numerous Guardian staff photographers. Examples by celebrated names – Bruce Davidson , Madame Yevonde , Yousuf Karsh and Cecil Beaton – get no special treatment.

Scouts from the British empire, 1929, photographer unknown … from left: St Helena, New Zealand, South Africa, Scotland, Isle of Man, India, Gibraltar, England, Ceylon, British Foreign, Australia

The entirely idiosyncratic classification system adopted in the early decades of the 20th century for the management of the picture library reflected the relatively sedate role of photojournalism at that time. The library was split into two catch-all categories: subject and personality files. Portraits of personalities tended to be unambiguous headshots – a good likeness – that would be used over and over.

Mrs Randolph Churchill (Pamela Digby) and six-week-old son, Winston, 1940, by Cecil Beaton

The exhibition includes more than 200 images across the full gamut of archive file types and all genres of photojournalism. The display of the photographs ignores both chronology and category. Hierarchies once imposed by the picture editor are, for the most part, collapsed. The audience is encouraged to question meaning when a photograph is far removed from its immediate context, when it now exists, primarily, as a cultural artefact in a permanent collection. Taken as a snapshot of the entire collection, the individual photographs provide a fertile space in which the malleability and porousness of these photographs can be fully appreciated.

Juniors at Grove School, Handsworth, 1967, by Eric Wadsworth

One run of files from the Manchester collection reads as follows: “Railway stations, Rain Scenes, Railways abroad, Rambling, Rats and mice, Refrigeration, Refugees, Refuse disposal.” New commissions and agency pictures were integrated with existing files where possible, otherwise a new file was created. Some file names are so arbitrary – “Russian Groups 1952-1956” – that they must have functioned as a kind of personal shorthand for the picture librarian.

Communist leaders Fidel Castro and Nikita Khrushchev meeting at the UN general assembly, 1960, AP wire photo

With the advent of features sections and colour magazines in the 1960s – the era of the 35mm camera – photographs assumed ever greater prominence but the picture library carried on unchanged, albeit now dealing with huge volumes of prints and negatives. Nowadays, the picture editor and her staff access well in excess of 40,000 images each day with hundreds being used across all platforms.

The Guardian’s liberal stance is reflected everywhere in the picture library, evidenced by the endless files of demonstrations, marches, political rallies, wars and conflict, social deprivation, strikes, women’s rights and more. This is particularly evident in the Women’s Page, first started in 1922. The picture library itself has proven a surprising repository of rhetoric, persuasion and a tool for the articulation of these liberal values.

Top: Muriel Hillon, chief shop steward on strike at Brannans’ thermometer factory, Cumberland, 1972, by Robert Smithies. Left: anti-apartheid demonstrator being removed from the South African Airways office, Manchester, 1972, by Robert Smithies. Right: Sikh demonstration, Leeds, 1974, by Denis Thorpe

However, as Nesrine Malik highlights in her accompanying essay, the sad reality that becomes evident with an overview of these decades of documentation, is how resistant to change the British establishment is, even the liberal establishment. The placards held aloft 50 years ago, whether dealing with immigration and racism, violence against women or working conditions, carry much of the language and urgency of our equivalent contemporary renditions.

“Gatwick Airport, London, a morning scattered with frost, sun, fog and lamentations. More than 100 Asians from Kenya – British citizens – are due to arrive and their relatives and friends already in England have turned out to meet them ...” Photograph by Eric Wadsworth, 1968, filed under Immigration General

Photographs, despite their claim to objectivity, have a capacity to resist precise definition and the ability to morph over time – what was once regarded as liberal might now be seen as offensive. In much the same way that chemicals were used to fix the photographic image, the Guardian picture librarians sought to “fix” the meaning of the images they filed by means of information attached to the reverse – a caption, a byline, rights’ holder, cropping instructions, date of each publication, sometimes even the article itself.

General Goering the lion tamer, 1934, Planet News Ltd, showing the original caption on the reverse of the print

These were all working prints, and they bear the marks of their use and reuse over time. Not only do these marks shed light on the complex relationship between image and text, they provide a startling insight into many of the major cultural and political preoccupations that have played out in the UK in recent years – race, gender, feminism, post-colonialism, immigration, globalisation and the climate crisis. No longer buttressed by their original context, these photographs can now be read as complex historical artefacts in their own right.

• The Picture Library is at the Photographers’ Gallery, London , 25 June-26 September. The curator, Luke Dodd, established the Guardian Archive and has published several books on the work of celebrated Observer photographer Jane Bown.

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Jonathan Donovan

Single parent strength – a photo essay

Vikas and kiara, carly and ezra, lana and ruben, tayyaba and waiz, jamie and xavi, demi, alex and loukas, ema and haze.

• Photojournalism Links

The 10 Best Photo Essays of the Month

This month’s Photojournalism Links collection highlights 10 excellent photo essays from across the world, including Tomas Munita ‘s photographs from Gaza and Israel, made on assignment for the New York Times . The work, coinciding with the first anniversary of last year’s 50 day war between Israel and Palestinian militant groups, consists of eight innovative stop-motion-sequences which take us to the streets, hospitals, and homes on both sides of the conflict, and provide an immersive glimpse of how the two groups of communities are coping, one year after.

Tomas Munita: Walking in War’s Path (The New York Times )

Brent Stirton: Tracking Ivory: Terror in Africa | Ivory’s Human Toll (National Geographic) Two strong sets of images for National Geographic magazine’s latest cover story.

Lynsey Addario: Inside the Democratic Republic of Congo’s Diamond Mines (TIME LightBox) Terrific set of images looking at Congo’s diamond mining communities.

Andres Kudacki: Spain’s Housing Crisis (TIME LightBox) Powerful three-year project on the country’s home evictions, now on show at Visa pour l’Image photojournalism festival.

Mary Ellen Mark: New Orleans (CNN Money) The legendary photographer’s final assignment, done ahead of Hurricane Katrina’s 10th anniversary.

Daniel Etter: Hands Across Water (Al Jazeera America) Moving series on a small Sea-Watch ship, with a rotating crew of just eight volunteers, trying to save refugees and migrants in the Mediterranean.

Sergey Ponomarev: On Island of Lesbos, a Microcosm of Greece’s Other Crisis: Migrants (The New York Times ) Dramatic photographs of refugees and migrants arriving to the Greek island.

Allison Joyce: Child Marriage Bangladesh (International Business Times) Heartbreaking pictures of a 15-year-old Bangladeshi girl’s wedding | See also Joyce’s other Bangladeshi child marriage series at Mashable .

Andrea Bruce: Romania’s Disappearing Girls (Al Jazeera America) The Noor photographer’s work shows how poverty and desperation drive Romanian girls into the arms of sex traffickers.

Matt Black: Geography of Poverty: Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (MSNBC) Second and third chapters of the Magnum photographer’s ambitious project mapping poverty around the U.S.

Mikko Takkunen is an Associate Photo Editor at TIME. Follow him on Twitter @photojournalism .

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Roger Corman: a career in pictures

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Best known for his low-budget Edgar Allan Poe adaptations, Corman also produced over 400 films and helped kickstart the careers of Jack Nicholson, Nicholas Roeg, Peter Fonda, James Cameron and Martin Scorsese

• News: Corman dies aged 98
• Peter Bradshaw’s appreciation
• Roger Corman obituary

Greg Whitmore

Sun 12 May 2024 08.59 BST Last modified on Sun 12 May 2024 22.07 BST

Photograph: Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Day The World Ended, 1955

Photograph: Alamy

The Undead, 1957

Photograph: The Kobal Collection

Not Of This Earth and Attack Of The Crab Monsters, both 1957

Composite: Movie Poster Image Art/ Getty Images

Attack of the Crab Monsters, 1957

Teenage Doll, 1957

Photograph: Everett/REX Shutterstock

The Wasp Woman, 1959

Photograph: Moviestore/REX Shutterstock

The Fall of the House of Usher, 1960

The Little Shop of Horrors, 1960

The Pit and the Pendulum, 1961

X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes, 1963

Photograph: Public Domain

Tomb of Ligeia, 1964

The Masque of the Red Death, 1964

Composite: BFI

The Wild Angels, 1966

Photograph: Ronald Grant Archive

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, 1967

Composite: REX Shutterstock/Alamy

The Trip, 1967

Photograph: Movie Poster Image Art/Getty Images

Bloody Mama, 1970

Composite: REX/Ronald Grant Archive

Photograph: Getty Images

Frankenstein Unbound, 1990

Composite: REX Shutterstock

Photograph: Michael Yada/Getty Images

Photograph: Victoria Will/Invision/AP

• Roger Corman
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• Edgar Allan Poe

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The Student News Site of University of California - San Diego

Photo essay: A collection of our favorite Houston Landing photos for April 2024

Last week, I started typing up a list in the Notes app on my iPhone entitled “Compelling Visual Storytelling Scenes.”

Photos have always given me perspective, and I wanted to compile a list of scenes that stirred a strong sense of emotion in me. Some of the pictures on this list are from moments we photographed at the Landing; others are photos made by other colleagues.

I created the list to inspire both you, the reader, and our newsroom – reporters, editors and photographers alike – as we continue to brainstorm and dissect which elements make for a captivating photo. 

The list includes examples of real moments:

• A father fighting back tears at his daughter’s high school graduation while facing an imminent deportation order
• A truck driver taking a break from their route to play the guitar in a field
• A man training his dog without a care in the world with a refinery literally on fire in the background

This month, Houston Landing’s best photography captured several scenes I know will be engraved in my memory: 

• Iqra Ali and Ali Aamar trying a football toss at an arcade during an Eid al-Fitr celebration in Houston, photographed by independent photojournalist Mark Felix
• Beautifully silhouetted actresses playing the roles of Jesus Christ’s followers before the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday at Queen of Peace Catholic Church, by staff photojournalist Antranik Tavitian
• Houston Mayor John Whitmire, who, instead of standing behind a podium, stakes a sign into the ground while announcing that the controversial Freed-Montrose Neighborhood Library will remain open, a moment-based image taken by independent photojournalist Meridith Kohut

Moments ground us, and April’s selection of Landing photojournalism memorializes those moments — whether it’s independent photographer Annie Mulligan’s picture of third graders at Anderson Elementary School gasping in awe at the solar eclipse, or a snapshot from independent photographer Meridith Kohut of 10-year-old William Lee launching a dragon kite into the air during the Hermann Park Conservancy’s Kite Festival.

I urge you, as a Landing reader, to spend some time with this month’s compilation of photos and to challenge yourself to consider how a picture turns a story from a string of words into a moment encapsulated in color and shape.

The list in my iPhone’s Notes app came from my desire to encourage our staff to reconsider how journalists incorporate and prioritize visual storytelling in our overall work. Photos comprise individual moments of time, yes, but they also complete — not just enhance — the overall story we publish.

The post Photo essay: A collection of our favorite Houston Landing photos for April 2024 appeared first on Houston Landing .

South Seattle Emerald

PHOTO ESSAY | Pro-Palestinian Protesters Mark 76th Anniversary of the Nakba

Hundreds gathered to rally and march at westlake, where activists painted a mural..

by Alex Garland

On Saturday, May 11, hundreds gathered in Westlake Park for a rally and march to commemorate the 76th anniversary of the Nakba , which refers to the displacement of Palestinian people by Zionist settlers, and later the Israeli government and the Israel Defense Forces, during the 1948 Arab–Israeli War. 

Speakers at the local event included representatives from multiple organizations, a Jewish grandmother, and an Indigenous spoken-word poet. As they addressed the crowd, approximately 25 activists began painting a mural on the ground at Westlake Park. Outlined with chalk and painted with nontoxic and water-soluble paint, the activist-artists finished a large mural that read from top to bottom, “Remember – Long Live Palestinian Resistance – Return” with a red poppy painted in the center. Activists marched a few blocks and returned to Westlake. 

“Nakba” translates to “catastrophe” in English. During the 1948 Arab–Israeli War, more than 750,000 Palestinians were forced to uproot their lives, 500 towns and villages were destroyed or renamed by Israeli settlers, and more than 15,000 Palestinians were killed, Palestinian women raped, and hundreds of homes looted. 

Since 1948, Palestinians have been denied the right to travel freely, and for those abroad, the right to return to their homeland. This has led to several of the symbols seen during demonstrations: the watermelon, an artistic response to a ban of colors of the Palestinian flag; and the keffiyeh, a type of traditional Palestinian scarf with black and white patterns of olive leaves, fishing nets, and bold lines for the Silk Road. 

There were no arrests or incidents of violence during the event. The mural has been removed by the City of Seattle.

Alex Garland is a photojournalist and reporter. With a degree in emergency administration and disaster planning from the University of North Texas, Alex spent his early professional career as a GIS analyst for FEMA. Follow him on Twitter .

📸  Featured Image: A sign with a watermelon and “Free Palestine” is seen at the 76th Anniversary of the Nakba during a rally at Westlake Park. (Photo: Alex Garland)

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King Charles III Unveils First Official Painted Portrait Since Coronation

The king, who was diagnosed with cancer in February but has since returned to public duties, unveiled the striking painting by Jonathan Yeo at Buckingham Palace on Tuesday.

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By Livia Albeck-Ripka

King Charles III on Tuesday unveiled the first official painted portrait of himself since his coronation just over a year ago — a striking oil painting in which he stares head-on against a backdrop of mottled red, pink and fuchsia hues.

The painting, by the renowned portrait artist Jonathan Yeo, was unveiled at Buckingham Palace, the royal family said on social media . Video showed the king tugging at a ribbon attached to fabric covering the towering work, which, as it dropped, appeared to give him a small surprise.

Mr. Yeo, who has painted the likes of David Attenborough, Idris Elba and the activist Malala Yousafzai, began the portrait in June 2021, when the king was still the Prince of Wales. It depicts him wearing the uniform of the Welsh Guards, of which he was a Regimental Colonel, with a butterfly hovering over his shoulder.

Much like that butterfly, the king’s “role in our public life has transformed,” Mr. Yeo said in the statement released on Tuesday by the royal family. “I do my best to capture the life experiences and humanity etched into any individual sitter’s face, and I hope that is what I have achieved in this portrait,” he said, noting that to try to capture the king was “both a tremendous professional challenge, and one which I thoroughly enjoyed and am immensely grateful for.”

The 7.5 foot-by-5.5-foot portrait was commissioned by the Worshipful Company of Drapers, a medieval guild of wool and cloth merchants that is now a philanthropy. It will hang in Drapers’ Hall, the group’s baronial quarters in London’s financial district, which has a gallery of monarchs from King George III to Queen Victoria.

The unveiling came just weeks after the king announced his return to public duties , nearly three months after he disclosed that he had cancer , bringing palpable relief to a country anxious about another wrenching change in the British monarchy.

Mr. Yeo previously told The Times that he had not learned of the king’s illness until after he had completed the painting, which depicts his subject in vivid color with a contemplative yet commanding glare. Mr. Yeo has also painted the king’s wife, Queen Camilla, and his father, Prince Philip. Other subjects have included the former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, the actors Dennis Hopper and Nicole Kidman and the media mogul Rupert Murdoch. He has said that the best portraits capture visual characteristics that remain relevant even as the person ages.

When it came to the king, Mr. Yeo told The Times that he had noticed physical changes in their four sittings together — during which time the king was going through a metamorphosis of stature.

“Age and experience were suiting him,” Mr. Yeo told The Times. “His demeanor definitely changed after he became king.”

Livia Albeck-Ripka is a Times reporter based in Los Angeles, covering breaking news, California and other subjects. More about Livia Albeck-Ripka