An Australian photographer has spoken of her pain and upset at what she has described as its unauthorised use of an image of her daughter as the basis for a pro-Russia mural on a bombed-out building in Mariupol.

Last week an Italian street artist, Ciro Cerullo, known as Jorit, announced he had completed the mural, which features a girl with the colours of the flag of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic in her eyes, and behind her a falling bomb with the word “Nato”.

“They lied to us about Vietnam, they lied to us about Afghanistan, they lied to us about Iraq, and now I have proof: they are also lying to us about Donbas,” Jorit, who became popular for a mural of Diego Maradona in Naples, wrote on Instagram. “Be wary of those who would like to give us morals, their hands are covered in blood.”

Amid accusations of plagiarism and of spreading Kremlin disinformation, Jorit said in an interview with Giornale Radio that he had painted “a living little girl from Donbas who spent her first years in Mariupol surrounded by war”.

A number of users on Instagram and Twitter pointed out the resemblance to a photograph taken by Helen Whittle of her daughter, which appeared on a 2018 cover of the Australian photography magazine Capture.

“I have been made aware that this photo of mine, taken in 2018, has been used to create a mural in Mariupol, Ukraine,” Whittle said in a statement released via social media. “I was not contacted by the artist and do not give permission for this image to be used. My thoughts and opinions are in no way aligned with those of the artist involved.”

Jorit later said he had come across the photo by searching on Google for “pigtails” and he had redrawn “the shirt and the pigtails, adapting them to the shapes and lights of the face”.

He said his mural had used “the composition and elements of this Australian girl […] And so what?”

Reached by the Italian website Fanpage, Whittle said “it was distressing and painful for me to see my image copied and used in this way”.

She said: “It seems that he [Jorit] finds inspiration by copying images found on the internet. I am sad and angry that an artist feels the need to copy someone else’s work without asking permission. And I am very saddened by the way my image, my daughter’s portrait, has been used.”

Whittle said she was consulting her lawyers.

Jorit, who made a mural of the Russian writer Fyodor Dostoevsky in Naples a few weeks after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, has been accused of spreading Moscow’s propaganda about the war in Ukraine, with critics pointing out that bombs that killed hundreds of children in Mariupol were dropped by Russian forces, who were also accused of targeting a maternity hospital in the city.

Valigia Blu, an Italian non-profit independent factchecking and debunking website focusing on journalism, said that before the full-scale Russian invasion there was a mural dedicated to a Ukrainian girl from Mariupol, Milana Abdurashytova who in January 2015 was hit by a missile strike launched by pro-Russian separatist forces and lost her mother and a leg. “Three years later, to commemorate Milana Abdurashytova’s story, street artist Sasha Korban dedicated a mural to her on the facade of a building on Prospekt Myru. But after the occupation, the Russians covered it up,” the website said.

Mariupol was one of the first major cities to be encircled after the Russian invasion. Viewed as a key Kremlin objective, the city was the scene of a siege that the Red Cross called “apocalyptic”. Ukrainian authorities estimate that 22,000 residents of the city died during the fighting.

I could never pick a favourite shot, or a best one. This is actually a photograph that almost didn’t make it into my current exhibition, but I was looking at it while I was preparing for the opening and asked a few visitors what they thought. One of them, an elderly lady, said: “Is it a greeting, or is it parting?” The more she looked at the picture the more she thought it didn’t show some casual separation – someone going away for the weekend – it seemed to be more than that. Another woman said: “It’s ageless love, basically, isn’t it? Ageless love is what’s there.” I wondered myself if the two couples were part of the same family, and if it was the women who were going away; they’re the ones with the bags. There’s a lot of ambiguity.

I have a camera with me all the time. When I made this picture, in around 2017, I’d been teaching in Colwyn Bay and was at the train station on my way home. It was evening, and the camera was in my hand as I waited on the platform. As the train came in, rather than just jumping on, I was still paying attention to what was happening nearby. I wandered around and took a few pictures, trying to be invisible, and then carried on once I was on board, photographing landscapes out the window.

When I first attempted candid work, I’d try to be as fast as I could and avoid being noticed, but 99 times out of 100 I’d fail. You get one bad look and the whole picture’s spoiled. I used to be really good at table tennis when I was young, which involves always being on the move, going this way and that – it’s very physical and fast. I started using a similar technique with my candid photography. You can’t do it methodically, it’s almost like a dance; and when you’re really in the flow, you kind of forget what you’re doing, you’re almost floating. Later, you look at what you’ve done and maybe that magic picture is there – it’s always a surprise. If I could pre-visualise the image, it would be pointless doing it. It’s the fact it’s a surprise that’s important.

There are other details that I like, such as the fact the woman in the foreground has gone up on her tiptoes for the kiss, and the way the man’s fingers are pressing into her sides, and hers are pressing into his cheeks. Then there’s the woman with the banana who’s creeping into the left of the frame. She looks as if she’s in her own little world, having a private laugh about something. And I like the repeating colours, the yellow and turquoise and red.

The photo is from a series called Snatch out of time. I got that phrase from Patrick Kavanagh’s poem The Hospital, which he wrote having undergone treatment at St James’s Hospital in Dublin. It’s such a positive poem, nevertheless – in the last two lines, he says: “For we must record love’s mystery without claptrap, / Snatch out of time the passionate transitory.” What’s more photographic than that? Because you’re not just trying to capture a moment when you take a photograph, you’ve got to feel it as well. It’s got to be something meaningful to you, something that’s passionate and part of you. And yet we know we’ve got to do it just like that, because life is transitory.

Because it was taken in Wales, I gave this picture a Welsh title: “Ta-ta rŵan” – goodbye, now. Sometimes the title can seem part of the picture. My wife’s friend, who died recently, came up with some great titles for my photographs. There’s a portrait in the show which might have made for a more obvious best shot, showing a man and woman standing against a car with their son inside, looking out. She called it “Their pride and joy”. The title could have referred to the boy, the car or even the woman’s breasts – she’s quite buxom. I’m told that lady has also died, but she lives on in the picture. I look at all these people and still feel I’m in their debt.

Tom Wood’s CV

Born: County Mayo, Ireland, 1951.

Studied: Fine Art at Leicester Polytechnic, 1973-76.

Influences: A film studies course at Leicester Poly covered mainstream, European art and avant garde cinema as well as extensive viewing of experimental film, with different films arriving each week from the London Film-makers’ Co-op (now Lux).

High point: “The current 50-year retrospective at the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, returning my photographic work to the people of Merseyside.”

Low point: “Twice being shortlisted but missing out on major awards (Paul Hamlyn award and the Arts Foundation Fellowship), which would have enabled me to return to Ireland and photograph there full-time for three years.”

Top tip: “Carry your camera always, make pictures casually and for fun, whatever the subject. For me the subject is where I happen to be, in a field of cattle in the evening, looking out of a train window, my friend Roger’s 70th birthday get-together, a grandchild, the local agricultural show. It’s a great way to get out of yourself!”

Instagram has beaten a class of photographers in a lawsuit that claimed the Meta-owned platform contributes to copyright infringement by letting outside websites embed images.

In 2021, photographers Alexis Hunley and Matthew Brauer filed a class action lawsuit against Instagram in federal court.

The lawsuit came about after Buzzfeed embedded Hunley’s copyrighted photograph of a protester during the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020.

Similarly, Time had embedded Brauer’s 2016 Instagram post showing his copyrighted photo of presidential candidate and former U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. According to the photographers, neither Buzzfeed nor Time sought their permission.

In the ensuing lawsuit, Hunley and Brauer claimed that Instagram abused their copyright by allowing news outlets like Time and Buzzfeed to embed the photos that they shared to their profiles.

The pair alleged that Instagram had never asked third parties to obtain a license to embed their copyrighted photos and videos.

Therefore, the platform is liable for secondary infringement when third-party sites use Instagram’s embedding tool to display their photos and videos.

A California federal judge initially dismissed Hunley’s and Brauer’s lawsuit, ruling that online publishers don’t infringe copyright by embedding Instagram images. He stressed that news outlets neither displayed a copy of the images nor stored them when embedding Instagram posts.

Nonetheless, the photographers appealed the dismissal and sought to revive the case with the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.

Instagram Let Off The Hook

However, Instagram once again dodged the photographers’ claims on appeal. On Monday, a three-judge panel at the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals said the platform was not liable for copyright infringement — because when a photo or video is embedded, no copy is made of the underlying content.

According to Gizmodo, the panel’s decision document delves directly into the nature of HTML embeds. The hypertext code does not actually contain the images but essentially, an address for where the photos are stored while allowing the embed to display the file. The browser follows the HTML instructions handled through the embed link.

Therefore, BuzzFeed and Time did not “display a copy” of the photographers’ work since neither publication stored a copy.

“The embedding website does not store a copy of the underlying image. Rather, embedding allows multiple websites to incorporate content stored on a single server simultaneously,” the decision reads.

Not Over Yet

While Instagram appears to be left off the hook for now, Reuters reports that the photographers’ case against the social media platform may not be over just yet.

Hunley and Brauer can petition the Ninth Circuit for a rehearing en banc. En banc panels in this circuit consist of 11 randomly-selected judges rather than the entire appellate court.

In their decision on Monday, the three-judge panel also noted that Hunley and Brauer had raised “serious and well-argued” policy concerns about copyright holders’ ability to control and profit from their work.

After a concerted effort by the American Society of Media Photographers (ASMP) and the National Press Photographer’s Association (NPPA), Instagram added a new option in 2021 that enables users to prevent others from embedding content they post to Instagram.

Image credits: Header photo licensed via Depositphotos.

We live in an era in which we are absolutely inundated by images every day, from every direction and in which we are often encouraged to think just as much about the tools of the trade as the images themselves. All that can lead one to feel frustrated or even disillusioned with the craft. If you find yourself feeling that way, give this insightful and motivational video a watch.

Coming to you from Maarten Heilbron, this fantastic video essay discusses what it means to be a photographer and what makes for impactful images. We are constantly bombarded, even assaulted, by the idea that we must constantly invest in the latest and most expensive gear, and while it is true there can be advantages in having modern equipment, it will not create a compelling image any more than a sharp knife will make a five-star meal. Just like the customers of the restaurant will not care or even know what brand of knife helped make their meal, the viewers of an image will not know or care what camera or lens made it. All that matters is how it captures their attention or evokes an emotion. And that should be the same reason we practice photography; that is the path to deeper fulfillment from the craft. Check out the video above for Heilbron’s full thoughts on the matter.

With advanced camera technologies and smartphones, anyone can be a photographer with the click of a button. While this convenience is undoubtedly a positive aspect, it raises an important question: is relying on auto mode holding your photography back? So, if you rely on Auto Mode, even on a smartphone, maybe it’s time to regain some control.

Lack of creative control

Auto mode is designed to make photography effortless by automatically adjusting settings such as exposure, focus and white balance. However, it often comes at the expense of creative control. By relinquishing decision-making to the camera, you limit your ability to manipulate and shape the final image according to your artistic vision.

Manual control allows you to experiment with different settings, adjust the depth of field, play with shutter speeds, and create unique compositions that truly express your creativity. Even if you take the first steps and use Aperture Priority or Shutter Priority you have far more control than on Auto.

Difficulty in challenging lighting conditions

While auto mode does its best to produce well-exposed images, it can struggle in challenging lighting situations. Lowlight environments, backlit subjects or high-contrast scenes often confuse the camera’s metering system, leading to incorrect exposures and loss of detail. In such scenarios, taking control of your camera’s settings becomes crucial.

Manual mode empowers you to adjust exposure compensation, use bracketing techniques, and employ off-camera lighting to overcome these challenges and capture stunning images.

Missed opportunities for learning

One of the joys of photography lies in the continuous learning process. By relying solely on auto mode, you miss out on the chance to understand the fundamental principles of photography. Manual control forces you to grasp concepts like aperture, shutter speed, ISO, and their interplay, allowing you to make informed decisions that result in better photographs.

By experimenting and learning from your mistakes, you grow as a photographer and develop a deeper understanding of your equipment.

Personalization and artistic expression

Photography is an art form, and artists seek to express their unique perspectives and emotions through their work. Auto mode often produces images that are technically correct but lack the personal touch that defines your photographic style.

Manual control enables you to infuse your images with your own interpretation of the scene, emphasizing certain elements, controlling the background blur, or deliberately introducing intentional camera movement. By embracing manual mode, you unlock the potential to create photographs that truly reflect your vision.

Breaking the Auto Mode comfort zone

The familiarity and convenience of auto mode can create a comfort zone that inhibits growth and creative exploration. Stepping out of that comfort zone and embracing manual control can be intimidating initially, but it opens up a world of possibilities.

Embracing manual mode forces you to be more engaged with the photographic process. Be mindful of your surroundings, and develop a deeper connection with your subject. It encourages you to think critically about the technical and artistic aspects of photography. And it can empower you to push the boundaries of your own abilities.

Auto mode has its place

Auto mode certainly has its place, especially for quick snapshots and beginners starting their photographic journey. However, if you aspire to elevate your photography skills and develop a distinct visual voice, embracing manual control is essential.

Manual mode provides the freedom to experiment, learn and express your creativity. It may take time and practice to master. But the rewards in terms of personal growth and artistic fulfillment are immeasurable. So, step away from auto mode and unlock the true potential of your photography!

Open this photo in gallery:

In the 1980s, a young photography grad named Michael Torosian decided to establish a small press and began teaching himself how to make a book. He released his first in 1986: a monograph on Edward Weston with a text by the American photographer’s son. Since then, Lumiere Press has published 22 titles, all set in lead type and printed on a vintage letterpress, bound by hand and issued in limited editions of about 250 copies.

In his Homage series, Torosian’s subjects have included American modernists Aaron Siskind and Frederick Sommer, crusading documentarians Gordon Parks and Lewis Hine, and his mentor Michel Lambeth, the Canadian photojournalist.

Torosian’s archive was acquired by the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto in 2017. To commemorate that transfer and celebrate more than 35 years in fine press publishing, Torosian has now written a memoir entitled Lumiere Press: Printer Savant & Other Stories.

You trained as a photographer at what is now Toronto Metropolitan University but had no credentials in publishing. How did you start?

When I came up in the seventies there were very few galleries, few museums showing photography. It was almost like an underground network where the language was passed on and studied through books rather than through exhibitions. Books were the medium of photography.

It was a matter of finding a way to do it that worked for me. Because the industrial method of trying to compete with big publishers is lunacy. I saw photographer after photographer attempt it and they would end up with a basement full of books they didn’t know what to do with.

Lead type and the letterpress disappeared from commercial publishing in the late 1970s, but you don’t fetishize the old technology. You also use digital means to reproduce some photos. Why the letterpress?

It’s indisputable that the most beautiful way of getting words on paper is with lead type on a letterpress. The technology has been around for 500 years and nobody really figured out a way of making it better.

When I discovered it, it wasn’t totally antiquated yet, but it really wasn’t commercially viable for the big companies. Big printing plants, newspapers and book publishers were dumping all their equipment. What had been exorbitantly expensive equipment was being sold for just a bit over scrap value. So, I hit the sweet spot, the moment where I could scoop up all this stuff and set up my own shop.

You began printing the Homage series, books dedicated to leading photographers. Why start with the big names?

If I had emulated the photography books of the day, they would have been all pictures with a negligible amount of text. But if you’re going to be a fine press printer then you’ve got to have words. So, my books are books about photography rather than just books of photography. And if you’re going to have a lot of text, you better have something to say.

I wanted to explore the aesthetics of the medium. I wanted to explore the biographies of the creators and see how this informed their work. You said that I picked the big names. But when I started, there might have been 10,000 or 15,000 books on Picasso, but you pick one of the greatest figures of 20th-century photography like Alfred Stieglitz, there might have been six books on him. The literature on photography was very scant. That has changed in my lifetime.

Why did you donate your archive to the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library?

It was actually an acquisition/donation. They purchased half and I donated the other half.

I had hit this 30-year mark of publishing and I really wanted to have an exhibition at the Fisher. It is one of the most beautiful galleries for books. Most libraries or galleries just have a bunch of vitrines, but the space there is almost magical the way the galleries are suspended above the reading rooms.

I went to visit the director and I had barely got out my proposal for an exhibition when she said: “We want your archive.” I had no reason to believe they even thought I had an archive, but I had been very fastidious, very conscientious and, in fact, I had assembled a detailed archive.

When I did my first book in ‘86 on Edward Weston, I went to the New York Public Library and they were having an exhibition on Truman Capote’s papers. It was really extraordinary: They had his little notebooks where he had handwritten in pencil, train tickets and scrapbooks. I was astonished at how you could tell the story of creativity through artifacts. I decided at that moment that I was going to save absolutely everything.

When I took Aaron Siskin to get a haircut one afternoon, I got a business card from Vito’s Barber Shop, which is in the archives.

How big is the archive?

It was 85 boxes.

Why did you publish Lumiere Press: Printer Savant?

I wanted to celebrate the history of the press. It’s not just a story about how you get from A to B or how you make a book or make a decision about a typeface. Every chapter deals with a different aspect of living a life in the arts.

I lived by the little commandments at the front of the book, in the chapter on Michel Lambeth. Put your best foot forward. Never give your art away. Do something every day.

For 50 years, I didn’t distract myself by doing commercial photography or doing projects as a gun for hire. I just concentrated on what I felt was important in my life.

What’s the plan now?

I don’t want to end up with anything in the house. I want everything that I’ve created to be placed as intelligently as possible. Lumiere Press books are in over 200 public collections around the world. If I can ensure that every book I’ve created is in the hands of an appreciative collector and an important institution, then I will have checked off all the boxes.

If you make a movie and only a million people go to see it, you’re talking to yourself. But when you make a book, the whole model is completely different. In trade publishing, if a book doesn’t sell in its first blast, it’s yesterday’s news because there’s 1,000 new books coming out that month. With the kind of book I make, it’s treasured. If it goes into a library, it’s going to be there to be studied and researched for generations. So, the impact of each book I make is curiously much greater than books that are published in bigger numbers.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

Michael Torosian will speak at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto on July 20.

When Vanyaland first began to explain the concept of the 617 Q&A to Andy Summers, his reaction was much different than any of two dozen or so interview subjects who’ve taken part in the feature over the years. It turns out those specific digits combined are ones he relates to quite strongly.

“617 is a magical number for me,” the iconic guitarist of The Police explains. “It’s on my phone. I lived at a house called 617. This is a number, 617, that sort of pursued me throughout my life, weirdly.”

When informed that 617 is actually the area code for Boston, ground zero for New England and where he’ll be kicking off his multimedia The Cracked Lens + A Missing String Tour this Friday (July 21) at The Cabot Theatre in Beverly — followed by two additional regional dates — Summers was delighted with the symbolism.

“This is a good sign,” he said. “Oh, this is a good sign. Yeah. It’s weird. I realized this years ago that this 617 seems to follow me. Weird, isn’t it?”

Weird and hopefully fortuitous for someone who has found success traversing multiple artistic avenues since joining The Police in the late ‘70s. Rounded out by drummer Stewart Copeland alongside singer, bassist, lute aficionado and tantric sex practitioner Sting, the trio became wildly popular staples of the MTV generation with hits like “Every Breath You Take,” “Message in a Bottle” and “Roxanne.” Their bitter infighting was the stuff of legend, and the group called it a day at the apex of their career in the mid-’80s, with a brief attempt at reconvening in 1986 squashed when Copeland fell off a horse and broke his collarbone.

Summers discovered photography early in The Police run, becoming quite adept at it and leading to the publication of several books featuring his work. The most recent is his retrospective collection A Series of Glances, which was released this past spring. Combined with a bevy of musical, literary and film related projects, he’s always been looking for a way to marry his numerous creative undertakings in the live setting. Summers thinks he’s finally accomplished that goal with The Cracked Lens + A Missing String. In addition to the Cabot show, he’ll be in East Greenwich, Rhode Island, at the Greenwich Odeum this Saturday (July 22) and in Ridgefield at Connecticut’s Ridgefield Playhouse on Sunday (July 23).

During our 617 Q&A (Six Questions; One Recommendation; Seven Somethings), Summers discussed the machinations behind the show and how he laid it out. Full of acerbic wit and bone-dry English humor, he also talked about his peers in music who have gotten behind the camera, name-checked his favorite music-related films and revealed a chance encounter he had with Spinal Tap’s Nigel Tufnel.

:: SIX QUESTIONS

Michael Christopher: What can people who are wondering, ‘What is The Cracked Lens + A Missing String all about?’ expect from the tour?

Andy Summers: Well, I came up with that title. My manager said, “Where did you come up with that?” I go, “That’s why you’re a manager and I’m the artist – okay?” I spent my life sitting around thinking of shit like this. I think it sort of implies a state of vulnerability, and there goes a theory — you can challenge it if you want — that I think in the vulnerable state you’re more open and you’re more likely to be creative. Rather than… there’s so many analogies you can make about this kind of thing where you’re like fully trained and you’re ready and you’ve gotta – and it’s not really all that good, whereas you’re in a much more fragile state and you’re more open to chance incident things happening that you weren’t expecting.

A significant part of the show is going to be incorporating your photography into the performance. And if there’s anything that’s become clear over the years, it’s that photography is just as important to you as music in terms of being a facet of your artistry and not just some side hobby.

It‘s not really a side hobby because there’s too much effort and passion that goes into it. I don’t think it’s ever gonna challenge music because basically I am music, that’s what I am, you know? I think I could say that and not be challenged on it. When I started into photography, like formally as it were, it was like a formal decision to myself, “Okay, you will now get the camera and you will be a good photographer” – dumb shit like that in a hotel room in New York.

But off I went and here we are all these years later and I had an amazing amount of action with it, but also, I should say thoroughly enjoyed it, I’m still completely engaged with it. I’m organized. I have an archive. I’m looking forward to, even for instance, touring the states of the rest of the year, I’ll be photographing a lot and looking forward to the magical opportunities, hopefully, that might arise along the way. So, yeah, it does take up quite a lot of mental space for me. But I find that it goes well with being a musician. It doesn’t interfere with it and I seem to be able to manage the two things and hence, and sort of logically, I finally brought them together in this show. I’m amazed I didn’t do this years ago actually. Why did it take me so long to like just bring the two?

I should add that the technology that’s become available has made this much more easy to do. We can do things I can do in my studio that we would never been able to pull this off before [live]. I’ve got all my very sophisticated electronic equipment to play the guitar through, so I get amazing guitar sounds and I show various, fairly exotic sequences of photography that I’ve carefully put together, some with backing tracks that I’m playing to, some solo, all sorts of different sounds. I have a whole Brazilian section I do, which is really sweet. Of course, I play some Police tracks, re-thought out versions of the songs where I’m playing the lead, obviously, on the guitar, so on and so forth.

That leads into my next question, which is, you’ve got such an extensive catalog of music to pull from. How do you decide which pieces to include into this type of show?

Yeah, it’s difficult actually. And I don’t know that one always gets it right. When we go out, we’re gonna do about eight or nine shows on this first little run, then take a break, see how I feel after that. I tried to create a balance of sort of exotic, and it might be slow and drifting against a harder thing with more of a upbeat rhythm or rock rhythm, whatever it is, from the various records.

I was just sort of thinking about it last night. I’ve chosen particular pieces where I feel like I can go and play a sort of — hopefully — a thrilling guitar solo in the middle, so [the audience gets what they expect]. So that’s what I do. If we’re lucky we’ve gone out, we’ve got it completely right, or come back and go, “Okay, let’s change this. Just change that. Let’s adjust.” That’s the typical thing, right? You go out and you do a few of ’em, and you get better at it, and it starts to get a little bit slicker and tighter. Just like a band — not that much different.

You put together A Series of Glances, a collection of your photos. Whether it’s the cover of the book or images, I guess the titles would be “Man and Morocco” or “Masks in Mexico,” “Woman in Cambodia,” you’re stepping into their world and grabbing a snapshot of it. I’m curious as to how you approach the subject, especially if you don’t speak the language. Do you sort of gesture with the camera, or do you have a translator and ask if you can take picture?

Well, it is a very pertinent point you’re making because I have traveled in a lot of exotic places, particularly in China – I went eight times and all over it. I’ve got into some pretty deep places [laughs]. They certainly don’t speak English. It’s really the crux of the matter; how do you get these pictures without upsetting people, being unkind? Whatever. Sometimes in different cultures [people] are okay with it some aren’t. I mean, for instance, Muslim culture. I went to Morocco four times. I think I’ve got a whole other book there. It was very rewarding but very difficult because if you point a camera, they don’t like it. So you have to be very careful.

Whereas I’m thinking, well, I’m thinking “China, no problem.” They like it, you know, and they start smiling. I said, “Don’t smile.” And one thing I learned in China, actually, was to carry a pack of cigarettes. I go, “Hey, how you doing?” You know? I go up and give ’em a cigarette – and they all smoke and immediately take it – and they start smiling. Then you stand there, you know, just nodding or whatever, and then you’ll get a picture. There’s little tricks to it, especially if you wanna call it “street photography,” which I don’t, you are in vulnerable situations where you’ve gotta kind of work out how you’re gonna either communicate or not communicate or get that photograph somehow. If it’s a person that you are shooting somewhere outside, you have to be sort of subversive and stealthy. Pretend you’re not taking photographs.

And there’s another trick called triangulation, which I like, which [American photographer] Ralph Gibson taught me. Say you’re on a street corner and there’s someone standing there. They’re like four and a half feet away. Focus the camera on something that’s exactly that same distance. So, you are in focus then [mimics quickly turning with a camera in hand] Bam. Got it. Little tricks like that.

What would you say separates you from other musicians who also do photography? Do you think it’s a level of dedication? Because I feel like a lot of them kind of dabble in it…

I’ve seen others and I always think, “Well, they’re not as good as me.” I’m much more… serious. I just think I’m better at it. Yeah, they dabble at it. You know, like there was something in the paper last week, “Paul McCartney’s photographs.” Well, they’re fucking terrible. They’re bullshit. They’re only in there ‘cause it says Paul McCartney. But as photographs, that’s really false. That’s like, “come on.” I have, like, really zero interest in musicians who take photographs. I mean, there, there’s maybe one or two. I’m thinking maybe Milt Hinton, a great jazz bass player. He took photographs of his sort of jazz scene at the time. Those are pretty cool.

Milt Hinton had some really amazing images from that period. He did a lot of work with Cab Calloway and when he dug into his photography, he really made it an art form, I think.

Yeah. Well, he was there at a great time when that scene was so authentic – he was a musician – talented. I have to look that up again. That’s the name that’s coming to mind for me.

***

Shifting to music, around 1983, 1984 it was sort of the end of the band, everyone was leaning into their own separate pursuits, and I guess doing quite well with them. But is there ever a part of you that wonders what could have been if The Police stayed together instead of breaking up? Or if you could have made those ‘86 sessions work – maybe if Stewart doesn’t fall off that horse or…

So typical. So bloody typical. Yeah, I dunno. I really think Sting was pulling away. He really wanted to have a go on his own. I don’t think there was much stopping of that. He wasn’t really interested in doing that session, but, you know, Stewart’s accident ruined it anyway, that blew it out of the water. Everybody wanted us to get back together, I mean, they were hovering – the record company in particular – obviously. For all the obvious reasons.

:: ONE RECOMMENDATION

Andy Summers: I would recommend a film I just saw called The Empire of Light, which is by Sam Mendes, he’s a great film director. It’s all about a little situation that takes place in an old cinema on the seacoast of England. It’s a wonderful film with Olivia Colman that really surprised me – great filmmaking. It starts off with nothing; a nothing situation with so-called very ordinary people working in cinema. And then it just goes to other places that you just wouldn’t expect like madness, racism, all kinds of sexual infidelity, all in this little cinema. It’s a marvelous piece of writing and acting. I was really struck by it.

:: SEVEN OF SOMETHING

What is great about that recommendation is it ties nicely into the seven part of the 617 Q&A. The documentary Can’t Stand Losing You: Surviving the Police was based on your memoir One Train Later. Tell me seven of your personal favorite music documentaries or music adjacent films.

I don’t like films that try to make films about rock bands cause they never get it right. They never get it right. It’s amazing that filmmakers just can’t get it right with bands. They try so hard to be authentic.

Like Bohemian Rhapsody…

Oh, terrible. Really terrible. Don’t do it. I’m actually probably against them because they never get it right and they’re corny. Gosh, that was awful. Dreadful.

Eight Days a Week: It’s the one about The Beatles by Ron Howard, which I thought was terrific. I mean, he put it together, he didn’t, I mean, obviously it was, it’s old footage, but it’s The Beatles on tour before they gave up. And it’s very intimate and personal so it’s like a real band film. I thought that was pretty great actually.

Spinal Tap: I guess we should say Spinal Tap of course, it’s the Bible, you know? Got to have Spinal Tap in there.

Did any of Spinal Tap hit close to home for you?

Oh yeah [laughs]. It’s all so true.

I’ll tell you a weird little story. I live in Santa Monica and there’s a really nice delicatessen place not far away where you can get fancy French cheeses and all that. And this is a couple of years ago. But I went in there one day with one of my kids and we were just sort standing there trying to get a bottle of wine and Christopher Guest came in – he was sort of in front of me. He didn’t recognize me, but I knew who he was, he was Nigel Tufnel. So we were standing at the desk and he, he was sort of fumbling about and he took out his credit cards and he dropped one. He was trying to pay, and he dropped a credit card and it was on his shoe. So, I went up to him and I sort gave it to him and he went, “Oh thanks.” But you know, that was it. I didn’t wanna go, “Oh, Nigel!” you know, but that was just a great moment, like a sort of abstraction of all that, our worship of Nigel Tufnel and Spinal Tap and that was my one moment with him. Anyway, it was just this funny little incident that seemed very Spinal Tap.

Almost Famous: I would put Almost Famous in, ‘cause I wasn’t flinching, “Oh, this is inauthentic.” Well, [writer/director] Cameron Crowe, had been around it so much and being a writer about it, I think he had a better shot at getting it right and I think he pretty much did.

Can’t Stand Losing You: Surviving the Police: What about my film? Let’s put my film in there. Can’t Stand Losing You. It’s not as good as the book. The book is much better. It’s okay. It almost collapsed altogether and only got saved in the end by getting the brilliant editor, Andy Grieve. It was fucked up by the ego of, in my opinion, Brett Morgen, who’s made other films since. It should have been a great experience, but it wasn’t what I hoped for. It could have been much better. In fact, I’ve always sort of thought to remake it.

Rock Around the Clock: Partly because when that came out, [for] people in England, it was a huge, big deal because back in those days they had Teddy Boys and they would go to see Rock Around the Clock and slash up the seats with their knives and all this kind of shit. It made a big impact.

Elvis: I don’t like Baz Luhrmann films because he goes so fucking baroque and fancy, I just can’t stand it in the end. He almost went there at the end of the film, but he didn’t quite. But the kid who played Elvis [Austin Butler], no one can play Elvis. You can’t do it. I mean, come on, you just can’t do that. And he did it and he, actually pulled it off I thought. I was impressed because it was quite watchable and tragic, of course, you know, sad what happened.

Quadrophenia : I think Quadrophenia would be a good choice. ‘Cause I remember, you know, we went to the premiere, of course [Note: Summers’ Police bandmate, Sting, had a role in the film]. I thought it was good. Well, Pete [Townshend] is very good and I’m sure he had a lot to do with the way that came out. I liked it because I was there at the time and it was very authentic – they sort of got it right. And the little guy, Phil [Daniels], the actor was great. That was a very good effort. I have a lot of admiration for Pete. He’s a very singular person.

ANDY SUMMERS – THE CRACKED LENS + A MISSING STRING TOUR :: Friday, July 17 at The Cabot Theatre, 286 Cabot St. in Beverly, MA :: 8 p.m., all ages, $45.50 to $77.50 :: Event info :: Advance tickets

In the late 1960s, Millwall Football Club developed a reputation for violence and organised football hooliganism. Hence the popular chant from the terraces: “No one likes us, we don’t care”.

The club, and football as a whole, has changed massively since then, but to most people born in the last century, the reputation remains. And so we were fascinated to hear about a photography project that focuses on what Millwall supporters are actually like today.

Inside story

The project is the work of Jérôme Favre, a French documentary and portrait photographer based in New Cross, London. “Over the last three years, I undertook a project called No One Likes Us, an immersive photo documentary inside the world of Millwall FC,” he explains. “It’s a fresh look at Millwall supporters that re-evaluates their reputation in contemporary football culture.”

So what sparked the idea? “The project was borne out of my fascination for football and football culture,” he explains. “I found a lot of similarities between my hometown club – RC Lens, in Northern France – and Millwall FC. Both are working-class clubs created around tight-knit communities. I was also curious about Millwall’s infamous reputation and wanted to cast an honest look on the club and its supporters.

“I always wanted to do something about football culture, and when I moved to New Cross, my local pub was this weird mix of Millwall fans, Goldsmiths students and random live music. After talking to a few people, I thought it was a great idea for a project, and I started going to the Den every match day, shooting people outside and inside the stadium, and going to nearby pubs and cafés to meet fans and workers.

“It was a little intimidating at first, but people were generally curious about my project. I took the photos over three years, between 2018 and 2022, with a long hiatus due to Covid.”

Standout moments

He recalls some standout moments from this period. “The people who asked me if I worked for the old bill. A fan who came all the way from Korea and couldn’t speak a word of English. The youngsters and the oldies.

“But the person who stands out is perhaps the skinhead on the book cover. Taking photos at Millwall is a fairly intimidating thing to do, but this guy genuinely looked scary. When I saw the tattoos on the back of his skull and the stands in the background, though, I knew I had to approach him. It turns out he was the gentlest, most polite gentleman.”

In short, he believes most Millwall fans aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be. “It still feels like a family club,” he explains. “People come with their family: men, women, boys and girls, sometimes across three generations. Not only for the football but for the sense of community and togetherness.”

But while Millwall’s supporters may have traditional values, the world of football is definitely changing around them.

“Whether it’s for better or for worse depends on your standpoint. The Premier League, for example, has contributed to a better standard of football and less violence. However, Premier League clubs are run like big businesses, and the tight link between clubs and fan base has sometimes disappeared completely. This is why more people are interested in lower league, grassroots football clubs, where they can find that sense of community again.”

And from Jérôme’s point of view, ordinary fans are still the lifeblood of the sport. “Football clubs and communities have always gone hand in hand,” he says. “Football clubs in this country were usually set up by factories or churches to encourage a sense of community or belonging. Millwall was founded by the workers of JT Morton’s canning and preserve factory in the Isle of Dogs. A mining company set up my club RC Lens; for decades, both players and fans were coal miners.”

Jérôme has self-published his series in a photo book titled No One Likes Us, which you can buy here. To learn more about the artist, visit jeromefavrephotography.com.