Images are increasingly important vehicles through which to represent and understand reality. The Photojournalist attests to the power of visual storytelling in our image-oriented world. This category shows us different perceptions of humanity in all its facets, contributing to our education and sensitization, rousing our emotion, and enabling us to share important stories across the globe.
A boy is watching lamentation groups in Muharram.
The hearse that transported the body of Winnie Madikizela-Mandela’s last journey home before the state funeral in Orlando, Soweto.
I intentionally titled this image with a long name, "James, the Smoking Delta Cowboy With a Golden Grill." This was one of the final frames I took at the end of a full day shooting my personal documentary photography project called "Delta Hill Riders." James' face caught my eye amongst a group of about eight riders who I randomly bumped into while driving home, just before sunset. I asked James if I could take his portrait, and his face lit up with happiness because I singled him out. He gave me a few moments to snap, and to this day, it's still one of my favorites from the project. I remember looking at in camera when I got back to my car, and a rare behavior for me, but I screamed out loud in joy because I loved the shot immediately.
This ongoing, unpublished documentary photography project in the Mississippi Delta, sheds light on an overlooked African-American subculture — one that resists both historical and contemporary stereotypes. The project began in January 2017 when I attended a rodeo in Greenville, Mississippi celebrating black cowboy heritage in the region.
The north of France is known for its high poverty. I went to this neighborhood near metrostation Porte d'Arras, which is seen as dangerous. When I took pictures of the apartment blocks I came across these ladies. They asked me if I had a cigarette for them. That's how we started talking. So they asked me if I was not afraid to walk around here and laughing to me, they asked if I was with the police. I told them I was a photographer and showed my camera, and asked if I could also photograph them. They were so excited they start posing and kissing in front of me.
This image is taken from an ongoing project exploring life in present-day Ukraine: ‘Museum of Corruption.’ This project combines portraits of Ukrainians with documentary material from the self-styled "Museum of Corruption" - the former president’s country residence, which now operates as a theme park run by nationalist groups seeking to ensure the public can see first-hand the inequalities and excesses that corruption leads to.
This portrait is the result of a chance encounter between an old friend and the subject. The portrait was taken on a visit to the apartment along with an anthropologist and research collaborator. While offering insights into the life of the subject, the portrait poses questions about life in present-day Ukraine through the inclusion of unexplained words and objects. The viewer is left to piece together the story and to think about the context and situation.
When in San Francisco, teaching a workshop, at the StreetFoto SF I got the opportunity to shoot backstage at the Oasis. I worked the dressing room during the main show and later the after show from where this photo was made. this evening led to a photo series I have called "Girls of the Oasis".
This image is part of a very personal project - it is about how my grandfather managed to escape the Gestapo during the Third Reich by sheer luck, saved by a photograph. My grandfather was "half-jewish," hoping to get married to my grandmother who was "aryan." Their request for a marriage license was refused several times until they were officially asked to break off their engagement, which they did not. My grandfather was being spied upon by the SA, interrogated several times until once, facing deportation, he was asked for proof of his having broken off relations with my grandmother. He kept a clear head, took a photograph from his wallet showing his cousin Irene from Nuremburg and pretended she was his new love. On the back of the photo she had written ‚To Friedel, with all my love, Irene‘. The Gestapo did let him go and he spent the remainder of the war on the run, hiding in my grandmother’s attic, on a graveyard and in churches. The day my granddad told me this story, he took the exact same photo from his wallet. He had been carrying it with him for 45 years.
On July 14, 2018, far-right activists held a demo in Central London to support Donald Trump, who was in the UK on an official visit at that time, and activists protested against jailing their leader Tommy Robinson and demanded his release.
The official part of the rally was mostly peaceful, but protesters had issues with controlling some of their members after the rally was officially called off. Police arrived at the scene to restore an order and there was a thin line of police holding protesters from blocking public transport near Trafalgar Square. To demonstrate their dominance over situation protesters started shouting at police and media, and at that moment I took this photo. Something told me that this guy will explode next second, I checked if I had space behind me, got on my knee and fired a shot at the right moment.
15th of may 2018 was the 70 years commemoration of the Nakba (the great catastrophe for palestinians). Hundreds of thousands of people were displaced in 1948 and since still a lot of refugees are living in the West Bank. Palestinians were protesting this day and the day before because the commemoration was matching with the Trump's decision to move US embassy to Jerusalem that is claimed by both Israel and Palestine as their capital. So, during this commemoration, clashes happened between Palestinians throwing rocks and Israeli Army. Army were throwing teargas, rubber bullet and live ammunition. This two young Palestinians were throwing rocks and hiding at the same time behind this panel of wood, hiding from the Israeli snipers that were placed hundreds of meters away from them.
A Rohingya mother carries her child at Kutupalong refugees camp near Coxs Bazar Bangladesh.
The Rohingya Muslims have been on the run since the outbreak of violence in Rakhine. Hundreds of thousands have found their way to Bangladesh, fleeing the ongoing brutality and bloodshed in their villages in Myanmar. They braved the forests, mountains, and paddy fields on foot to the refugee camps in neighboring Bangladesh, while some opt for long boat rides into the uncertain weather of the Bay of Bengal to seek for safe haven.
They suppressed their hunger, exhaustion, and trauma for one goal: safety for themselves and those under their care; only to learn that the struggle does not end as they land. They have to start anew, build a temporary shelter to call home, and get used to scrambling over food supplies. Thanks to the aids and assistance, the suffering they experienced are at least reduced.