Reportage Photo Festival in Sydney, one of the best documentary photography festivals in the southern hemisphere is almost upon us with the opening night on November 11th. The official program has just been published which shows a very strong selection of extended photo essays over two Projection Nights at The National Arts School in East Sydney. There are also talks and exhibitions including Reportage’s Retrospective and Stephen Dupont’s images from Afghanistan which will be excellent.

This is one of the few forums that extended photo essays can be viewed and there are some great stories being told over the nights. I’m very happy that my images from Mongolia will be shown on Projection Night 2, November 13. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to show not only images about the two boys who live underground but also images that surround this issue. I’ve combined the two picture stories which can be found on my website so if your interested have a quick look there.

I’m going to be in town for most of the weekend so will hopefully catch up with lots of people there for a few beers..!!

Munkhbat and Altangeret (both 15) have lived in this manhole together for over three years under the streets of Ulaanbaatar, the coldest capital city in the world. They were forced into this situation by divorced and deceased parents but they still hope and strive for a better future.

I’ve finally recovered from jet lag and have started working on a few images from my recent trip to Belfast in Northern Ireland. This forms the third part of my long term project on borders and barriers around the world.

Although a very short trip I still managed to get around most of Belfast thanks to the many community groups who helped out. I met some fascinating people who have dedicated large parts of their lives to help understand and report on the consequences of these peacelines or peace walls and the overall situation in Northern Ireland. I also met and interviewed participants of ‘The Troubles’, many of whom spent years in prison and were released as part of the peace process and now work in community relation groups.

Belfast is quite possibly one of the friendliest places I’ve worked in but spending time in the interface areas (places where Catholic and Protestant communities live next to each other), away from the now buzzing city centre, an air of uncertainty, distrust, anxiety and underdevelopment is still very much evident. On either side of the walls, life continues as normal and many people are happy to drive from one area to another but most said there are areas they would not feel safe to walk in. In many cases, people who live just meters apart, divided by a 20 ft high multi layered barrier have never met or even have the desire to meet each other. Segregation permeates all areas of life both physically and psychologically, from housing where over 95% of social housing is either Catholic or Protestant to education where only around 5% of children attend integrated schools. Whilst most of the violence of the 90′s has stopped, rioting in flashpoints still does occur and virtually all residents who live next to the peacelines and interface areas do not want the walls to come down. At night, gates are closed to both traffic and pedestrians, effectively cutting off Protestant from Catholic areas. They feel safer, at least physiologically, with these physical barriers intact which they say they now hardly even notice.

The first peacelines where erected back at the start of ‘The Troubles’ in the late 60′s and were supposed to be temporary structures separating the Loyalist Protestant from the Republican Catholic communities. Ironically, since the peace agreement over 10 years ago, many more barriers have been built. In 1994 there were approximately 24 walls, there are now an estimated 90 structures in place throughout Belfast from obvious 20 foot high walls to thinly disguised disused houses, waste land and community gates with the latest wall being built little over 24 months ago.

I’ll be making a return trip there next year to continue this story so below are some images taken during my time there. I’m also working on editing audio and video I shot. I really enjoyed shooting video for the first time and think the audio interviews I took really add to the sense of the place. Multimedia is fast becoming the most exciting and informative way to show stories so once I’ve got the basics of FCP, I’ll post an update here.

Any questions or comments you have please get in contact……

The main peace wall that runs for over 5km dividing the predominantly Protestant Shankill Road Area from the Catholic Falls Road in West Belfast. Seen from the Catholic area of St Galls Avenue just off the Falls Road, many of the houses in this area have been rebuilt since the troubles in the 1990's

A resident of Bombay Street with the peace wall backing onto his property in West Belfast. This street became the epicenter of violence during the early days of the troubles and most of the original houses were burnt down.

Gates in peace walls all over Belfast are locked at night separating the Catholic areas from Protestant areas. Looking through the Workman Avenue gate into the Protestant Woodvale estate in West Belfast.

A resident walking past housing next to the peace wall in Protestant Woodvale area in West Belfast.

Joseph Hasett a Catholic resident on the Springfield road who lives opposite the peace wall separating them from the protestant Woodvale estate in West Belfast.

A tourist bus passes a peace wall on the Protestant Cupar Way Road in West Belfast. So called Terror Tours have become a familiar sight in West Belfast.

Caoileann Meehan (16) from the Catholic area of Springfield Road. He says he doesn't mix with the Protestant teenagers on the other side of the wall and never goes over there. He believes that violence would dramatically increase if the walls came down.

A young Protestant family go through the Workman Avenue gate in the peace wall in West Belfast. At night the gates are closed.

Catholic houses on the Springfield Road opposite Workman Avenue, a notorious flashpoint during the marching season. The houses are bricked inbetween to stop rioters entering further into the residential area and the front windows removed.

The Shankill Road complete with British flags reflecting their allegiance to Britain. Many Protestant areas are adorned with flags as a means of identity.

Segregation is common in Northern Ireland's education system with only 3-5% of children attending mixed schools. Pupils studying at Springfield Primary School in West Belfast, a segregated Protestant School in a mostly Catholic area.

A man walks along the interface area and peace wall in Bryson Street dividing the Short Strand area of East Belfast, a Catholic enclave of about 3,500 people in a predominantly Protestant area.

Cluan Place, a Protestant area surrounding the Catholic enclave of Short Strand in East Belfast.

An old and rusty peace wall shields new housing in the Catholic New Lodge community from the Tigers Bay Protestant area on the other side in North Belfast.

L-R Padraig Smyth (18), Brian McCartney (19) and Gerard Morgin (20) on Springfield road next to the peace wall in West Belfast. They say they don't ever go over to the Protestant side of the wall. They have no bad feelings towards the Protestants but don't want the wall to come down.

A peace wall in Townsend Street looking from the Catholic side towards the Shankill Protestant area. This gate is closed at 5.30pm and opened at 7am.

A peace wall and interface area in Protestant Glenbryn Park with Catholic Alliance Avenue on other side.

Another month has just flashed by since the last post but as always a lot has been happening behind the scenes. I’ve been updating my portfolio books, the website which will hopefully be re-launched in a week or so and arranging two upcoming exhibitions, details of which are posted here. I’ve also been researching my next assignment to Belfast and trying to understand the complex current and historical situation there. It should be an interesting trip which starts in a months time.

As for now, the first exhibition to open is in Perth at the excellent Moore’s Contemporary Gallery in Fremantle this Friday. Curated by Amnesty International in Australia, Journey Towards Hope looks at the reality of life for refugees and asylum seekers, a hot topic of debate over here which became a major campaign issue during the recent election. I’ll be showing my work from the Sudanese refugee camps in Eastern Chad and giving a talk about the situation there. The Fringe Shutter Collective will also be displaying images as well as images from students with refugee backgrounds from the Edmund Rice Centre. It should be a great evening with lots to see so please feel free to come along this Friday 27th from 7pm if your in the area.

The exhibition runs until 5 September.

On the same theme, Amnesty International in Sydney will also be hosting an exhibition called Journey to Freedom at Carriageworks in Redfern, Sydney opening Wednesday 1st September so again, if your in the area please pop by. The Chad story will be shown alongside three other great photographers. The exhibition showcases photos of Iraqi refugees in Iran by Ed Giles and East Timorese refugees in Australia by Alanta Colley along with images from Africa by Hamish Gregory.

The aim of the exhibition is to humanise the plight of the refugees as well as displaying positive images of settled refugee families. I’ll be there on the opening night on Wednesday 1st along with Ed so if your around it would be great to meet up. This will be my first time in Sydney which I’m really looking forward to so if you know any cool bars and fancy a beer please let me know..!!

If you’d like further information about either of the exhibitions just send me an email or leave a comment on this blog. Thanks.

The great thing about updating your website and portfolio is that it’s a great excuse to look back over all your old images and sometimes discover new ones. It’s also a great excuse for a bit of reminiscing and covering Yasser Arafat’s funeral in Ramallah in 2004 is without doubt one of my favourite assignments. When I started at my newspaper I actually said to my then picture editor that I had no holidays booked but should Arafat die I will going to the funeral no matter what.

A few years later he was good to his word and after a phone call at 8.30am informing me Arafat had died I was on the next plane out of Jersey at 10am. First stop was London, Zurich then onto Tel Aviv arriving at 5.30am the next morning and straight down to the Israeli GPO where the whose who of photojournalism where all looking equally tired and anxious to get to Ramallah. Nobody knew exactly what was happening but the latest rumour was the funeral was to be held later that afternoon. I teamed up with other photographers who I’d met on the plane and had worked with in Afghanistan just a few weeks before. Hiring a Palestinian taxi at an exorbitant rate we wound our way around the back roads, trying to avoid the many Israeli roadblocks. What should have been a straight 15 drive turned into a 90 minute circus. Eventually reaching the Qalandiya checkpoint then a long walk into Ramallah and the Muqata, Arafat’s home for years where he had been held under siege before he fell ill and left for Paris.

The atmosphere was actually quite festive and more of a celebration of life than a state in mourning. As we got closer and the arrival time getting nearer the tension in the air was palpable and increasing by the minute. Thousands of Palestinians from all over the West Bank wanted to get as close as possible and started scaling the walls of the compound and clinging onto any object with a view. When the two Egyptian Air Force helicopters finally appeared, almost at once everyone started whistling and cheering. With dust being blown everywhere from the downwash and the pushing and shoving in the heat it became electric. There where hundreds of armed men from all the militias and PA who started firing pistols, Ak47′s and all sorts of weaponry into the air adding to the deafening noise. Bullet casing flew and burnt people as they dropped down their shirts. A number of people fell off the top of high buildings and died as the crowds shoved forward for their first view of Arafat’s coffin.

If things were crazy before, the moment the coffin was brought out all hell let loose. Soldiers lost control of the crowd despite firing into the air and what was to be a dignified occasion attended by the great and the good of Palestine ended up being a funeral for the people as thousands of men and woman surged forward to the coffin. You couldn’t walk in the crush, you more like swam with the crowd, trying to get pictures but finding it difficult to even raise your arms.

As the coffin eventually found is way to the final resting place the generally good natured crowd turned into a bit of an embarrassing scrum around the grave. Mourners and photographers jostled for position trying to see into the grave which some people very nearly fell into. Not journalism’s most dignified moment but everyone, photogs and mourners just wanted that picture of Arafat’s final resting place.

As the sun started to set the crowd started slowing dispersing and we made our way back to Jerusalem to file and get some well deserved beers in. All in all a crazy but amazing day and one of the many days why I love being a photojournalist. Looking at the news that night on TV it looked even more chaotic than actually being there which is generally the case anyway but it was a real privilege to witness a great moment in Middle Eastern history.

Anyway, enough waffling on, below are some of the images I took that day. I decided to show them in mono as the light was very harsh and I just think it suits this story anyway….

The 4th Annual Masters of Color Photography Awards were announced just over a week ago and I’m very happy that one of my images has been nominated again in the Professional Photojournalism section. Last year a picture from Afghanistan was nominated and this year an image from the Mongolia story has been recognised.

Munkhbat and Altangeret (both 15) have lived in this manhole together for over three years under the streets of Ulaanbaatar, the coldest capital city in the world. Spending time with them I witnessed what a tough, lonely and violent existence they have to endure in temperatures reaching -40c. They were forced into this situation by divorced and deceased parents but they still hope and strive for a better future. For me this image encapsulates the extremely difficult conditions these boys live in whilst life continues around them, oblivious and indifferent to their plight.”