The documentary photographer honors those who turn their energies to a social good. And our critic says this artist does the same.

Celebrating Excellence in Photography: Winners Announced for AAP Magazine #39: Shadows

We are thrilled to unveil the names of the 25 exceptionally talented photographers who have been selected as the winners of ‘AAP Magazine #39: Shadows.’ Representing 16 diverse countries spanning 5 continents, these artists have captivated us with their remarkable vision and mastery of light and shadow.

Renowned photographer Diane Arbus once wrote, “Photography is not about the things we see, but the shadows they cast.” Indeed, mastering the interplay of shadows in photography is an art form suffused with mystery, magic, and timeless allure. It evokes a sense of nostalgia, weaving narratives that are as unique as they are compelling.

In this 39th edition of AAP Magazine, our quest was to explore both the poetry and power of shadows, and the twenty-five selected photographers have eloquently captured these nuances in their work.

More info: all-about-photo.com | Instagram | Facebook

Our smorgasbord of underwater photography talent on stage at the GO Diving Show ANZ continues to grow, as we add Talia Greis to the line-up at the event in September.

Talia Greis is a self-taught, internationally acclaimed underwater photographer from Sydney, Australia. Born and raised in the coastal city regions of the Eastern Suburbs, her appreciation for ocean life exploded while diving Ningaloo Reef, WA.

“Understanding the rich diversity and abundance of our country’s underwater world flipped a switch that made it essential for me to take a camera below the surface as soon as possible,” she said.

“Not only to be able reproduce some of the fine moments nature has to offer, but also to be able to completely understand for myself, the true colours and complexities of what I had been witness to”.

Always one to capture a moment as it unfolds, Talia realised that her role in diving had changed, and in present days finds it impossible to dive without peering through the lens.

Talia has gone on to win Ocean Art 2019 Compact Division, Emerging Photographer of the Year 2023 for Ocean Geographic, Head On Photo Festival,  Landscape Category 2023, Northern Beaches Underwater Photo Competition 2023, and Underwater Photographer of the Year (UPY) for the Macro Category in 2024.

The GO Diving Show ANZ

This annual event, taking place this year on 28-29 September at the Sydney Showground at the Olympic Park, is aimed at showcasing the very best of our underwater world to everyone from raw novices who are either contemplating getting into diving, or have completed their entry-level courses, to advanced divers, right through to technical divers and veteran CCR divers.

There are an array of stages – the Main Stage, the Photo Stage, the Australia/New Zealand Stage, the Inspiration Stage and the Tech Stage – that will play host to dozens of speakers from around the world, as well as a host of interactive features to suit young and old, from VR diving experiences, trydives, a demonstration pool, Bruce the rodeo shark, mermaids, and much more.

Surrounding the stages and features will be a broad range of exhibitors, from tourist boards and tour operators to resorts, liveaboards, training agencies, retailers, manufacturers, and conservation organisations.

The 2024 GO Diving Show UK, now in its fifth year, attracted more than 10,000 attendees over the weekend, and spanned an area of 10,000 sq m of exhibition space, and the Australia and New Zealand variant aspires to reaching this level in coming years.

Entry to the inaugural GO Diving Show ANZ is completely free – register here to get your tickets for what is undoubtedly the diving event of 2024 in Australia. There is plenty of parking on-site and the venue is easy to get to with plenty of transport options, so get the dates in your diary now and prepare for an epic weekend celebrating all forms of diving.

PORT TOWNSEND — Artist Martin Vanners felt something was missing — from his career and his life. He’d been doing digital art for 15 years and had begun deepening his mindfulness practice.

One sleepless night, Vanners ran across an ad for the Pinsta pinhole camera. Two weeks later, one arrived at his door.

“After capturing my second photo with it, everything clicked,” he recalled.

The pinhole camera and process embody all he values: slowing down, focusing on the present moment, finding joy in the process.

Vanners, who lives in Breda, the Netherlands, is coming to Port Townsend to meet up with his friend, pinhole photographer Jen Cohen, to teach a couple of workshops and give a talk. Monday at 4:30 p.m., he’ll give this illustrated lecture at Northwind Art’s Jeanette Best Gallery, 701 Water St.

Admission is free to the public while donations to the nonprofit Northwind Art are welcome.

Information about this and other Northwind Art School and gallery activities can be found at https://northwindart.org.

“I believe the universe gives you what you need when you need it — you just have to listen,” Vanners said of finding his new art form.

Since he dove into pinhole photography last July, Vanners has become a content creator for the U.K.-based Pinsta. His work can be found on Instagram at @pinsta_camera and @martin_vanners.

In his Monday talk, Vanners will discuss how he went from digital photography and animation to the analog world of pinhole camera pictures, and he will illustrate how the shift profoundly impacted his life and artistic vision. He’ll also delve into his creative process, offering insights into how he crafts his pinhole images.

Pinhole camera work, using a tiny hole in a box to collect light rays onto photographic paper or film, is one of the oldest techniques in photography, he noted.

“In an era dominated by high-speed, automated technology and constant movement, pinhole photography offers a magical, almost meditative way to connect with the universe and capture what is,” Vanners said.

Cohen, an avid pinhole photographer in Port Townsend, is the founder of the Raw Art Collective, a group that celebrates artmaking outside the mainstream. She took her first pinhole photo on April 30, 2023 — Worldwide Pinhole Day — using a homemade developer of coffee, vitamin C and washing soda.

“When I saw the result, I was awestruck. The perfectly imperfect image mirrored both myself and the universe,” she recalled, adding, “from then on, I was hooked.”

Cohen now curates Pinsta photos for an Instagram gallery, @Pinstafanatics, and teaches local workshops.

Both of the Northwind Art School workshops she’s offering with Vanners this weekend have sold out.

A seasoned pro, Pateras has over 15 years of experience as a travel photographer. He has built a lauded portfolio, specializing in destination weddings and travel journalism. Throughout his career, he’s captured unforgettable moments and quenched his thirst for discovery as he turns images into windows peeling back the wonders of earth and humanity. Within each photo, Pateras immortalizes moments of love, joy, and cultural diversity. Having snapped shots of the dancing colors in India and the glistening and tranquil shores of the Caribbean, Pateras’s photography has led him to some of the world’s most iconic destinations.

Ela Adams of Dawnswyr Tawerin, a folk dancing group from Swansea,dances in her traditional Welsh dress on the Black Mountain, Ammanford, before St David’s Day, 18 February 2024

Photograph: Joann Randles/Cover Images

Her face is covered, but you can tell it’s Ivana Trump from her beehive. The picture was taken in 1990, at a fashion show in the gilded environs of New York hotel the Plaza. She sits alone, surrounded by empty chairs, as rapacious photographers press in from behind, while hotel security guards loom from one side. A trio of well-dressed guests appear to laugh in her direction.

The photograph is one of the highlights from a new book by Dafydd Jones. New York: High Life/Low Life features images taken between 1988 and 1999, when the Wales-born society photographer moved to the US to work for titles including Vanity Fair and the New York Observer.

Prior to his move, Jones was best known for his refreshingly unvarnished party pictures of 1980s upper-crust English society (he has released two successful books on this subject – Oxford: The Last Hurrah and England: The Last Hurrah). He did much of his work at Tatler, when Tina Brown was shaking the magazine up as its new editor, and was open to society photos that took a photojournalistic approach. His style has remained constant since. One of the reasons Jones eventually left Tatler a few years after Brown did, was that a new editor “said something about smiling … And actually, around the time that I left, if you look in those copies of the magazine, every single person at a party is smiling,” he says, “which is quite limiting.”

The New York book is an evocative historical document, brimming with nostalgia and menace. Compared with today’s cyborgian beauty standards and levels of PR polish among high-profile people, the images feel refreshingly intriguing and human. Now, says Jones, high-profile people “are more sensitive – they like to control things”. At the time, the balance of power was different: “People liked being in the magazine, so they would appreciate the picture even if it wasn’t flattering.”

It is also, Jones says, quite a dark book at times, particularly when some of the images are viewed with hindsight. Many of those photographed have since died, often too young (the book includes photographs from Robert Mapplethorpe’s last days and a poignant shot of Natasha Richardson with Lauren Bacall and Paul Newman). Some of those caught pressing flesh in the pages have since fallen into disgrace (see: Jeffrey Epstein, Robert and Ghislaine Maxwell). Donald Trump is a frequent presence; Jones says Trump struck him as “gangsterish”, even then. The first time he photographed him, “he had a bodyguard at a funeral – which was sort of strange. Lots of other kind of famous people didn’t have bodyguards. It was a bit mob-like, really.”

Trump’s presence certainly haunts that Ivana picture, which was taken in a hotel he then owned, in the middle of their messy divorce – hence all of the photographers scrabbling towards her. “For a moment, it was too much for her,” says Jones, “though 20 seconds later, she was smiling for the cameras.”

New York: High Life/Low Life by Dafydd Jones is published by ACC Art Books.

Socialite worker: six highlights from Jones’ New York photographs

Dachshunds fighting over doggy canapes, Barbetta restaurant, 1990 (main picture)
When he worked for Tatler, Jones became well known for a 1982 picture of a suited Hooray Henry pushing a debutante into a pond. This 1990 image, he says, in which a pair of dogs squirm wildly, desperate to eat the bone-shaped canapes, felt like his New York equivalent.

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Ivana Trump, Fashion Group couture show, the Plaza Hotel, 1990
Vanity Fair ran this picture on almost a full page. It was taken using a camera that was new to Jones at the time, which took square-shaped pictures – enabling the chaos surrounding Ivana to be seen from all sides. One of the photographers approaching her, in the back of the photo, is legendary photographer Bill Cunningham.

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Front row applauding Carolyne Roehm’s spring collection, 1989
“I call that The Horrors,” says Jones of this fashion show front row. “It managed to look quite scary.” At the time Upper East Side ladies who lunched, such as Nan Kempner, and sometimes their “walkers” (men who accompanied rich women to events; Jerry Zipkin played this role for Nancy Reagan), dominated fashion events in New York. It felt “very old-fashioned,” he says – and this was the beginning of the end. Soon, fashion editors and celebrities would take their place.

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Martha Reed with champagne twizzle stick, Spanish Gold Medal Gala, November 1989
New York society life could be sad: Jones frequently saw rich society women like Martha Reed alone at parties. Her personal life was rife with dark rumours about domestic abuse. She was lonely – and she was no anomaly: “I noticed more people sitting on their own and looking quite sad. It was tougher.”

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Maria Paterno Castello di San Giuliano, Princess Asaea Beatrice Reyna di Savoia, Miss Hikari Ohta and the maid in the ladies powder room, International Debutante Ball, 1993
“I liked that the maid was in here as well,” says Jones. “You don’t expect to see debutantes like this in New York – or I didn’t.” Actually, he says, New York society was more snobbish, and stratified, than England, in its way, in the division between uptown and downtown, and old and new money.

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Launch of Tina Brown’s Talk magazine, 1999
This was taken on a boat ferrying guests to Liberty Island for what Jones describes as “the biggest magazine launch I’ve been to”. The catering was lavish, the guest list was star-studded; the event has since been described as the end of an era of media decadence. The magazine did not survive the rise of the internet.

«You can tell a lot about a place by talking about its food,» says Tim Mackintosh-Smith, a historian, traveler, and interpreter closely connected to the Arab world, when asked about the release of Bittersweet – A Story of Food and Yemen. This book, authored by Sayed Asif Mahmud and produced by the UN World Food Programme, explores the culture (especially the culinary culture) of Yemen. Through both black-and-white and color photographs, the book examines how food, specifically, is intertwined with Yemeni culture: from daily life to cooking and means of subsistence.

Sayed Asif Mahmud Tells the Story of Yemen

Sayed Asif Mahmud, originally from Bangladesh, has been working with the United Nations World Food Programme since 2019, while Marta Colburn and Jessica Olney have composed the critical text. The two authors have meticulously researched many of the practices, from those used by Yemeni fishermen to maximize their catch to the reason why honey is an integral part of Yemen’s national and spiritual identity.

Agriculture, trade, and identity are thus at the heart of this book, which also narrates the unique characteristics of this country from a landscape and architectural perspective. «This book is about tastes and smells, ingredients and dishes, culinary geographies and stories (past, present, future) of the country,» says Tim Mackintosh-Smith.

When you were ten years old, your mom signed you up for photography classes. When did it click for you that you wanted to be a photographer?

Watching the pictures appear in the dark room was really crazy, but I became especially mind blown when I saw photography I really liked. The first time I saw Richard Avadon’s work, David Sims, the first old issue of Dazed I held—I remember looking at those and being like, what the hell. I always liked aesthetics–how clothes looked–and then the ability to create characters. I loved movies. So movies, Avadon, [David] Sims, Jeurgen [Teller] and the works I saw in 2000’s issues of Dazed created an intersection that made me pursue the medium of photography.

I was passionate about music, too, maybe even a little bit more into music than photography around fourteen, fifteen, but I didn’t meet anyone who was a rockstar or successful musician. I got very lucky when my mom happened to meet a really successful photographer. I didn’t choose photography just because I could make money at it, but this was the first example of someone making a living out of one of the things that I loved, at a time when I was really stressed about making a living because my family didn’t have a lot, and I was like, I don’t want to do this again.

The people in my immediate environment were like, “You know how many people want to be a rockstar?” all the time. And I understand where that comes from if you’re talking to a kid and you’re trying not to give them delusional ideas. So I don’t resent them, I guess I kind of see it as fate guiding me towards photography and I feel really fortunate. I’m still so in love with photography after all this time.

How does your passion for music influence and inspire your photography?

I’m really instinctual. So I sometimes have a difficult time understanding where inspirations begin and end. I think there is an inherent overlap in what I’m interested in–music, skateboarding, fashion, film—and they’re all bridges that allow me to express myself and connect with people who might not necessarily be interested in fashion, for example, but find an access point to it through music, or vice versa.

You support yourself with your art, which is something a lot of artists aspire to. Can you tell me the best and worst part about it?

The best part–when things are going really well–is freedom. When I was more in the developmental stage, a lot of the process felt like building confidence in my instincts. And when it’s working for long enough, suddenly it flips and your instincts become the constant that you rely on most. So that’s really liberating. I finally got over the imposter syndrome of “Can I do this?” Now, the best thing is to move forward with a few trusted collaborators and have faith. You’re basically trusting yourself for a living, which is pretty exciting. But on the flipside, a lot of the time, what I’m doing is still a job, and so I’m constantly having to negotiate. I really care about my work, and sometimes there are such big teams at play that it’s tough to hold on to the vision.

Do you have a tough time switching hats from business to artist?

Yeah, yeah. I basically have removed myself completely from business. It really gets in the way for me of the creative stuff. I used to try to do friends’ brands projects myself because I knew they might be offended if I sent them to my agent. But I realized I can’t do it [that way], I find the creative process too personal, and I want to do my best to the full amount each time so I need someone in between to basically create options for the person who’s commissioning me so that the project is clear. If they’re not presented with options, I’m just gonna go all the way every time and issues might arise from that disconnect. I need that person to mediate, and having older friends in similar positions has helped normalize it for me. Once we get to work after that, it’s always the best.

What would you tell artists early in their career about learning to say yes and no?

I know it came off as arrogance or delusion to my mom. I would tell her when I would say no to things early on, and she’d be like, “You have no business saying no…” I was really, really broke. But I always had a sense of what I was interested in. I knew that if I took on something that I didn’t resonate with or think was actually good, then it wouldn’t turn out, and it would be out there in the world with my name on it.

It might hurt more in the long run than benefit in the short run?

Totally. I was already dealing with trying to make it in Montreal when I didn’t really speak French very well–that was already a hurdle that slowed my trajectory—and I was being really picky about what I was doing, so it definitely made things take longer. But I think, in the long run, it was probably worth it because even if it may have felt slow, I think what an artist does and puts out into the world is important.

To be clear, I definitely took a lot of paid work that didn’t necessarily speak to me, but I compartmentalized those projects as less my own expression, and more of a technical exercise which also funded my life. I would pick projects I knew wouldn’t be super public facing for me. So, if it was something I knew would involve my own creative expression, I would be especially selective. And then if there was a big institution that just needed me to be a cog in it, then I would do less inspiring jobs. Protect your artistic integrity, but most people have to earn a living, so sometimes we make concessions. Ultimately I’m very grateful for even those less fun jobs because without them I wouldn’t be here now.

You’re predominantly a fashion photographer, but would you enjoy doing more personal projects again like your book, WAYN?

I do want to make more books. I’m working on one now, actually. Making WAYN was a really cool process. I like it when an artist builds a world or an experience–whether it’s a collection, a film, a party, a book. I love going into people’s worlds for a set amount of time. So it was really fun to create an experience–as abstract as it might have been–it was fun to provide something that was exactly, specifically how I wanted, and then to release that into the world and let people interpret it in their own way.

We both grew up in Canada, with the American Dream within reach. Moving from Vancouver to Montreal to New York, have you had to adjust your expectations and dreams, or have those stayed consistent throughout?

When I was young, in high school, I had these grandiose things I wanted. I remember thinking, going to a wealthier friend’s house with a big pool and fancy cars, I was like, “oh, I want that: the pool, the house, the Ferrari.” As I began to own things I always wanted, I would say I’ve definitely adjusted what I value and will provide a happy life. I have a lifestyle in mind that is definitely comfortable, I still have expensive taste, but I don’t want a Ferrari. [laughs]

Getting to New York has been both humbling and revitalizing at the same time. I’m into manifesting and putting dreams out there, but I don’t do it in a three year plan, five years, etc. It’s more just dreams, and more specific to people I would love to work with rather than the time in which it needs to happen.

When things would get stressful, and tight, and difficult, I would become paralyzed and anxious and start spiraling. I’d worry that things wouldn’t be ok. With time and experience, when there’s stillness and there’s nothing coming at me, that’s the time to be grateful and shoot personal work, and to reach out to people I’m inspired by who I want to work with.

What’s your relationship with failure?

I used to be so worried about not getting a job or a response, I really took it personally. It’s just been a practice of changing my perspective on it. What helps is the busier you become, you realize how not personal everything is. There can be a variety of reasons another person is chosen for a job, and I’ve forgotten to respond to emails from people I didn’t dislike at all. Once you realize that–that they might have wanted to reach out but got pulled away–it’s freeing. I’ve gotten messages back five months later from people who got caught up and forgot to reply.

Failure wise, my nightmare would be not understanding what someone wanted and not delivering work we both loved. Some people might be easier to work with than me in terms of going with the flow, but [through learning from miscommunications,] I’ve become very particular about making sure we know what we’re doing: I ask a lot of questions before the shoot so that all the collaborators are, as much as possible, in alignment on the desired outcome of the project.

You were doing really well in Montreal. What pushed you to take this leap to New York?

I deeply appreciate Vancouver and Montreal for being my homes. Many people in Montreal embraced me, and I really grew into my own there. I miss a lot of people, and they’re both important to me. But I’ve always wanted to create the best work possible–the access to clothes, talent, and collaborators in New York, Paris, and London was always a dream. I was planning to move before COVID and it just didn’t happen. It was a mix of luck, instinct, and fate. The pandemic gave me two more years to keep working really hard in Montreal and do the best I could. And now that I’ve gotten here, even though I’m essentially starting over, I think a lot of those projects that I did the last while are the reason I’m getting a lot of the meetings. I am very grateful.

I’m glad you mentioned luck and timing, because your ethos about being in the present and focusing on your art and what you can do moment to moment is so important in times when something like COVID happens that is very destabilizing. If you’d set hard deadlines to move for example, it could have felt like an unmanageable blow.

As an artist, so much of what makes you good is adapting and evolving. Take a piece of bad news, process it, let it pass, and then pivot.

How do you deal with fear or resistance coming up in your practice?

Fear always happens before something is in front of me. Anxiety is fear of the unknown but when you’re present–I’ve noticed it with athletes. They’re one person outside, but on the field, they are in the zone. For me, once we’re on set, beyond the beginning jitters, I lock in.

I deal with fear by preparing. That’s the only way. Feedback I get from collaborators afterwards is they appreciate how thorough we are. We really cover everything about what could happen in the day, we try to know every answer and then once we have that plan, we’re ready to adapt or throw it away when people have–often great–ideas in the moment. Everyone has a different process and there’s no right or wrong way to do it. For me, the more we prepare, the freer we can be on the day because we really understand where we’re going. I do all the preparation so that I can feel as free as I can when we’re working.

Do you have a piece of advice that you received that sticks out for you? Has a piece of advice stuck out to you in your career, one that you received or one you would give to aspiring photographers?

I know for a fact that people are better at interpreting advice than me because they did a lot better than me at school [laughs].

When I was 16 I wrote a message to [the photographer] Josh Olins and he replied. That meant a lot to me. I’ll paraphrase, but some of the advice I remember being helpful was: it could be a good idea to assist photographers you respect. It’s a good way to learn the technical side, and ultimately a way to meet established industry people who’s assistants will likely become the people you end up working with. He suggested learning about clothing/fashion, and encouraged me to try making something simple but strong, as opposed to aiming for something really complex right away. His final advice was to simply take a lot of photos, all the time.

I’m also obsessed with interviews with artists I like. I love learning about people’s experiences. I think I learn more through examples of humans being alive and how they’ve operated and grown and evolved over long periods of time, so that’s my go to.

I’ve learned that not zooming out too far is really important. In any of these paths, when you try to see the whole picture and examine what you do in the context of everything from far away, with preconceived notions about it, it can be paralyzing.

Sometimes, the best way to proceed is just to write down a couple things you think would be interesting to explore and then just start doing it. Whether that’s helping at a junior level in a field you want to work in, or doing a simpler version of something bigger that you want to do. And early on try not to be too precious. I think we really develop through playing. There are very few examples of highly successful people who knew all along exactly how they were going to get there–unless they were dealing with a unique level of nepotism.

Also, comparing is really bad. Just stick to your gut and what you actually care about, that’s my advice.

So how does it feel to have made the move to New York?

I’ve never been so inspired. I love this city, and it means a lot how welcoming people have been. Not to get it twisted though: there is a lot of pressure, and I have a lot to prove to myself, and a lot of room to grow and develop. But I’m really excited. About all of it.