Jeremy Corbyn for The Guardian WE

Although not a fully paid up member of Momentum, I can confirm that I liked Jeremy Corbyn.  Looking like Billy Bragg’s elder brother, he seemed unaffected by the political mayhem that surrounded him.
Jeremy Corbyn

Kanye West 11/11/2008 for the Observer Music

The Landmark Hotel, London.
We were promised an hour and 2 changes of clothes.
After the usual tense wait, Kanye arrives.
Demure but steely, he insists he will be holding a Louis Vuitton bag in all the pictures and won’t be taking off his sunglasses or his scarf.  I will have 15 minutes maximum.
We take a few images against a paper backdrop and it occurs to me that he looks as though he’s on his way to, or from, somewhere. In transition.
5 minutes to go and I bundle him into the goods lift of the hotel.
When he left, he put on his duffel coat.  A hip-hop Paddington bear.

Kanye West


20 Years of the Spice Girls. Shoot 1 of 4.


A few friends convene at my flat in Bethnal Green to watch England get knocked out by Germany in the Semi-finals of Euro 96. (6-5 on penalties).
The joyous atmosphere evaporated as Gareth Southgate missed his penalty and talk turned to the coming week. The frivolous nature of my life was mocked when I announced that the following day I was going up in a hot air balloon with an unknown band called ‘The Spice Girls’
6am and Muff Fitzgerald (the press officer) and I head out of London to meet the girls. Our departure point, a field in Hertfordshire is enveloped in fog and the balloon pilot insists we must wait for it to clear.
Anxious to get ‘something in the bag’, I suggest a couple of frames in the mist.
Not yet the well oiled machine they would become, this, there first press shoot was an awkward affair until, unbeknown to me, Muff decided to drop his trousers and moon at them from behind my camera.
After an hour at a service station drinking coffee we finally achieve lift off.  I’d hired a fish-eye lens and had to sit on the edge of our little wicker basket to get everyone in the picture.
A memorable shoot ended with us crashing in a ploughed field.
A tangle of Spice.
Spice Girls

Martin Parr for The Independent on Sunday Review

Back when I was starting, when photography felt inspiring and true, I first encountered Martin Parr.
We went along to Plymouth Arts Centre to see his seminal ‘The Last Resort’, and I was blown away.
I bought a poster and it was a constant on the wall of my student bedsit.

Lovely then, if a little nerve wracking to photograph the maestro 2 weeks ago for the Independent on Sunday.

Genial if slightly brusque, I managed to stretch our time to an hour by suggesting we do a few pictures with his wife, Susie.

Without a support structure, artists very rarely achieve longevity so it’s always good to celebrate ‘the power behind throne’.

No man is an island.

Martin & Susie ParrMartin Parr