Exposure

We were driving along a dusty track in a rural region of northern Tanzania when we spotted some children swimming in a shallow muddy lake. Brent Stirton, grabbing his camera, leapt from the Land Rover and waded straight into the water without even stopping to slip off his shoes.

In parts of rural Africa, children regularly wash in the places where animals drink and defecate, catching water related diseases like diarrhoea and schistosomiasis.

The result of our stop was a beautiful but disturbing photograph, typical of Stirton, that captured a whole issue in a single moment. An innocently beautiful young boy, with water droplets glistening over chestnut skin, just the ominous silhouette of cattle behind.

Back in London

I met Stirton again in January, in a few snatched London hours between his returning from photographing the aftermath of the Tsunami and flying out again to Iraq. The glaze in his eyes was not just due to jet lag.

“The day after Boxing Day I flew into Sri Lanka and just started shooting. I took mothers to where their house had been, their children had lived, and shot them in the empty space. Tears are very moving for me.”

Stirton was introduced to photojournalism through boxing against black hardmen from Durban slums in his native South Africa. They showed him a world of factional infighting even the local news was missing. Stirton sold articles about it to newspapers, paying his way though journalism college. They wanted pictures to accompany the pieces, so Stirton bought his first camera.

“Because I’d build up relationships with the gangs, I was able to get pictures of people ‘necking’ each other, putting burning tyres over the heads of enemy gang members.”

Personal integrity

Within his first year taking pictures, at just 24, Stirton won his first photojournalism award. Now 35, the self-taught photographer has won the World Press Photo three times, the UN Environmental Programme Award and the Unicef Picture of the Year, amongst others.

“This career removes you from a sense of normality, from normal social expectations. You have to make decisions about your personal integrity; to make choices that mean you don’t like yourself.”

One example is in Iraq, where Stirton has been forced by the security situation to "inbed" with US soldiers.

“I have to do what they do, see what they see. Your photos can intimate at things, but you can’t just come out and say this is happening. It’s better to do it their way, than not at all. In time you can achieve the depth of reporting that you’re looking for.”

Making judgements

Stirton has been beaten up by US marines for photographing their injured friends, sometimes capturing their dying moments. Living on the edge of constant danger, the lines of loyalty become blurred.

“You do see things that are happening that are not right, but you’re living with these people, they’ve saved your life a few times, you may have saved theirs. Making a judgement in those situations is very difficult.”

It raises perhaps the biggest challenge for a photojournalist: are there times when you should put down your camera and get involved?

“The greatest photojournalists have intervened. If someone is going to die, and you are in a position to stop them, you should. Often though, you’re not in that position. It might be dangerous for you, or things happen too quickly.”

A "duty to document"

In cases where you can’t intervene, said Stirton, it is the photojournalist’s duty to document. While photographing RUF rebel soldiers in conflict torn Sierra Leone, he met a girl who’d been kidnapped for use as a sex slave. When she’d tried to escape, the soldiers burned her breasts off with acid. Stirton offered money to the soldiers to free her. They refused.

“She was just 12 years old, but she looked at me as if she was much older. It was one of the most beautiful pictures I have taken. We didn’t speak the same language, but she understood that through my photos, I was trying to dignify her.”

"Portraits can be a photojournalistic document"

Most of Stirton’s award-winning material is staged portraits. Shots that are painstakingly set up, lit with expensive equipment. For one photograph while we were in Tanzania, Stirton asked four young women to pose, with buckets on their head, for 15 minutes, while he got the shot just perfect. The result is always stunning and distinctive, but is it real?

“Portraits can be a photojournalistic document if they have enough elements to tell a story. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, I’m seeing something and just asking them to stop. Portraits provide a new way to bring public attention to issues that have often become common place."

Effects of capturing suffering

In another memorable photograph from rural Zambia, an aunt and mother delicately bathe a gaunt 17 year old daughter, dying from AIDS. Half an hour later she died. Does capturing such suffering, make the photographer indifferent?

“I’m still constantly moved by what I photograph. When I’m doing shots like that, I try not to speak. It would betray what I’m feeling. I know at the end I’m going to be a changed personality. It does fuck you up, and if it doesn’t you’ve no businesses doing it. That’s the price to pay to witness suffering in others.”

A career in photojournalism

“Look at the world around you. Living in the UK, there’s loads of good photojournalism issues. Photograph themes, and have the discipline to put them in order. Create a portfolio of work that comes together to tell a story. Decide who you want to work for and have a look at the pictures they use, your own work, and the difference between them.

“Remember that it will remove you from a common arena with your friends and family. They will not get it. If you work in the international arena, you’ll need to save as much money as possible before you even start.”