It was far from a peaceful coup, with many killed in the fight for freedom, and though there are of course conflicting views on the events that led to Ceausescu's execution, what is undeniable is that the changes in Europe that year created the map we know today. In Romania, as with many of the former eastern bloc countries, a new generation have since emerged with no memory of the communist country and oppression of that time.

Photographer Dana Popa was born in Romania in 1977 and so fairly young when the first shots rang out. Her latest body of work, After the New Man, explores the legacy of the communist years, and like her previous project, onot Natasha, it uses photography as a way in to a complex subject.

"Twenty years after the fall of the communism I needed to go back and investigate the first generation that was born at the same time Romanians gained their freedom," she told me. "For me they were the lucky generation, whilst their parents are doomed to live between two worlds, communism and capitalism."

Popa explains that the current generation was raised into consumerism, noting that even amongst themselves they would often speak English.

Her project mixes photographs of those young adults with landscapes that seem to ooze with the grey decay of a communist empire, all alongside photographs from her family album. The photographs are a feast for the eye, rich in colour and taken with an unforced style and the end product of many months, indeed, years making the right contacts and opening doors. "I always like to wait for that moment when I think they are revealing themselves," said Popa. "They don't hide anything anymore; they allow me to see them as they are. That's what I like to think."

Popa spent two years meeting young people, understanding what it means to grow up now. "Connected to the world via internet, with access to the latest news, and freedom to travel anywhere in Europe, with possibilities of driving convertible cars in their 20s and studying abroad, they cannot imagine the grim realities of long queues for milk, limited food supplies and rationing of petrol," says Popa.

"Nor can they imagine disappearances without trace, the political prisons and labour camps, the everyday censorship with bans on foreign media and travel. This is a generation that has no memories of communism. It grows up with no sense of the immediate history and its impact, like a soul who does not identify the body it is incarcerated in."

That "missing past" is actually all around in the landscape which portrays a different era and time, the decaying concrete blocks clashing with the youths getting ready for a night out.

"The communists 'Golden Era' constructions are strong," says Popa. "I am not referring only to the most obvious visual legacy: the blocks of flats webbing through the country, but also to mentalities and habits."

"This series talks about how these young people in search of an identity navigate through the juxtaposing layers of the past and the present, how a coherent image is constructed out of fragments of memory and 'Western'-inspired bits of lifestyle and aspirations, and how this ostensibly contradictory synthesis gives them a sense of displacement."

I found the inclusion of the archive shots of Popa's family fascinating, especially the one of her mother, which had it been in colour could sit alongside the modern pictures. I asked her if she saw it that way, or do they represent a past that has now gone? "I felt my visual interpretation of the linear present needed a tangible reference to embed in," Popa says.

"It is a past that is gone now. The propaganda and the rules of that society were absurd. But at the end of the day as many differences I saw between this generation and the generation of our parents, there are strong similarities, too, and by bringing in the archive I started a visual dialogue between the two worlds."

After the New Man is currently on show at Foto8 gallery in London until 26 May and you can see more of Dana Popa's work on her website.

Stow was born in Hull, the home of William Wilberforce - a leading voice against slavery, and in 2007 the city commemorated the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery in a big way. Despite her extensive travels, Stow had never been to Freetown in Sierra Leone, a city twinned with her hometown, and this sparked an idea to instigate a visual conversation through photography around this issue.

Despite the town twinning, it seems that for many residents of Hull their knowledge of the country was much the same as mine. A country ravaged by a civil war that ended a decade ago, and subsequently the trial of Liberia's ex-president Charles Taylor, who is on trial for war crimes for his involvement in that conflict.

Stow wanted to rectify this and invited the women of Hull to interpret the city's council themes from that year, pride, freedom, belief and so on, through photography. "My idea was to get the resulting pictures printed as greeting cards and send to women in Sierra Leone," said Stowe. "But I managed to get some Arts Council funding to hand deliver them and to take half a dozen digital cameras to run workshops in Freetown." This was a pivotal moment.

Stow headed to Freetown hoping that a handful of women would find time to attend her workshops, yet more than 50 arrived, with others being added to an ever expanding waiting list. "This is a place where some people are starving, yet they were signing up to learn photography," said Stow. "They told me they just wanted to learn any skills that may help lift themselves out of poverty."

The workshop was a success and the pictures printed before going on show in Hull, with further funding paying for three of the women from Freetown to make the opening of the exhibition. This was essential said Stow, otherwise it wouldn't have been a two-way conversation. "The project was supposed to end there, but I wanted to do more and these women wanted to learn more photography as well," Stow told me.

And so the project grew and is now called 42, taking its name from the life expectancy of women in Sierra Leone at that time. Added poignancy came from the fact that Stow turned 42 around that time, and had she been born in Freetown then the implications are easy to see. The 42 project is not a static one, and is forever in flux, as new pictures are taken others make way.

I asked Stow why Sierra Leone? What was it that made her settle on Freetown, rather than move on to the next story? "In Sierra Leone I saw 'hope' in a way I've never seen it before," she said. "An urgency and a hunger for hope, and I saw this strength particularly in the women. A real, powerful hope that their lives will, in some way, get better. I think that's what keeps me attached to the women and the country, as it's something we all have in varying degrees: hope about our lives and the future. It's kind of infectious when you see and feel it so powerfully."

Through the years the story has progressed and a core number of the original participants have continued that conversation. Two now work as photographers in Sierra Leone. A number of others have had work exhibited and one, Francess Ngaboh-Smart, won a scholarship to study at the Pacific North West Arts School in Washington State with National Geographic photographer Sam Abell.

Yet despite these gains Stow sees the difficulties and barriers to success. Expensive and slow internet connection, power outages and surges or cultural barriers are just some of the obstacles that have to be addressed by the photographers.

"Do I buy food for the family or do I send some images to Lee for critique and to add to the catalogue of our work? These are the questions they have to ask themselves, it is as raw as that," said Stow.

She continues, "One of the working photographers, Rebecca Kamara, has built a studio in her village, and this is a place where there is often no electricity. But we are slowly getting better kit to some of the women with five now equipped with laptops. Though there are setbacks. In January Francess was robbed, but we managed to re-equip her by rallying around for support."

"The photographers are now becoming more self-sufficient and funding themselves through photography. One major problem they face is being paid for their work and they now know to draw up contracts before undertaking the work."

One hotel owner refused to pay up after commissioning pictures, and recently a small European NGO went to the trouble of requesting to see the portfolio of one of the photographers, and yet in the end they said they had no money to pay.

"Credit and publicity for the photographer doesn't put food on the table," said Stow. "It is very disappointing; the whole idea for the project is to train indigenous photographers because I believe we do get a more balanced view of the world that way. Gone are the days of the wealthy Westerner taking pictures of poor people in Africa."

Stow's other work also continues the link between the countries, as alongside her latest project UK on women boxers in Yorkshire, she worked with Sierra Leone's women's boxing team as they trained in preparation for qualifying rounds for the 2012 Olympics. Sadly lack of support within the country meant they were unable to travel, and even worse, Lee's friend Grace, head of the women's boxing team, passed away, aged 43. The team however continues despite these setbacks.

Stow can't leave her work in Freetown alone now and feels she has much to do. She has been asked to replicate the project elsewhere, in Nigeria and Liberia, yet notes: "There's only one of me. It's a small slow project with a lasting impact."

That impact can be seen in the photographs that are on show at the International Slavery Museum in Liverpool and in the training and mentoring being carried out some of those Stow has taught. They are passing that knowledge on, offering more women a chance to learn a skill and opening their eyes to possible futures.

You can see more of Lee Karen Stow's work on her website and pictures of the women involved in the project under the banner, Women with cameras. Stowe's Girls in the Ring, The Female Boxers of Yorkshire series will be on show at Hand Made in Bradford from 15 June 2012.

Today this is nothing new and accepted wisdom. Yet about 10 years ago, when the charity PhotoVoice was formed by Anna Blackman and Tiffany Fairey, this was not the case. Photography was primarily still film-based and thus costly, and their move was seen as a bold one to harness the power of storytellers in this way.

I first encountered the charity in 2003 when Tiffany introduced me to a young refugee from Angola, Tatiana Correia, who worked with PhotoVoice to document her time in the capital. Since then we have published a number of reports on projects run by PhotoVoice, including a memorable series with children in Cambodia.

The agency is now well known and highly respected within the industry for its approach and values, and continues to deliver photographic training and workshops to members of communities affected by an issue.

"PhotoVoice works with project participants and organisational partners to use the resulting captioned photographs locally and internationally to raise awareness, challenge perspectives, inform decision-making and advocate for change," said Matt Daw, the project manager at PhotoVoice. "Participants gain skills in photography, storytelling and journalism, and retain the equipment provided by PhotoVoice to ensure that they can continue to use their new skills for personal expression or to explore professional opportunities after the project."

At present PhotoVoice has a number of projects underway including The Lookout project, which started in 2011 with Lookout London, and will include workshops in Manchester, Liverpool, Glasgow and possibly other cities around the UK. The project offers young people under 25 with the opportunity, skills and support to feed their perspectives into the debate on gangs and knife crime issues through photography.

"By encouraging young people to speak openly about issues that affect them, the Lookout project aims to combat the isolation and anxiety that many young people face when they feel at risk of gang violence or under pressure to participate in youth crime," says Daw. "The debate around these issues is too often held over the heads of those most affected, and those who hold the key to improving the situation - young people themselves."

Another recent project was with young indigenous people in Paraguay. This was run in partnership with Amnesty International and local NGO, Tierra Viva, and helped them create a series of photographs to use in campaigning for the return of their land. The young people documented their living conditions and lifestyle and interviewed elders in the community.

In February 2012, as a result of ongoing campaigning by Tierra Viva, a land deal was finally reached between Paraguayan authorities and a landowner in the country's central region that will allow the long-displaced indigenous community to rebuild. PhotoVoice hope the young people will use their digital cameras to document and share this historic development for the community.

An exhibition of photographs by young people across the UK exploring the role of the UNCRC in their lives has just opened in central London and runs until 10 May and Sophie Howarth has curated a sale of images by street photographers to support the ongoing work by PhotoVoice.

Do take some time to explore their website where you'll find details and pictures from many of PhotoVoice's projects, both international and those based within the UK.

Richard's photographs depict a nation during a time of conflict, from landscapes to rebel groups, against the backdrop and trauma of war.

The pictures are beguiling, and very challenging indeed. They were taken using a discontinued military surveillance technology - an infrared colour film called Kodak Aerochrome. Originally developed for camouflage detection, this aerial reconnaissance film registers infrared light, which is invisible to the human eye, in vivid hues of lavender, crimson and hot pink.

Richard kindly offered his thoughts on the work and the role photographers can play when witnessing war.

I originally chose the Congo because I wished to find a place in the world, and in my imagination, where every step I took I would be reminded of the limits of my own articulation, of my inadequate capacity for representation. I wished for this to happen in a place of hard realities, whose narratives urgently need telling, but cannot be easily described. Congo is just such a place. Its endless cycle of wars seem essentially intangible. It is a protracted, complex and convoluted conflict, fought by rebels of constantly switching allegiance. These narratives, though brutal and tragic, are not tales that are easily told.

My decision to begin working in Congo came at a stage in my practice when I wished to press reset. I was becoming too familiar with my ways of working and wanted to throw my past methodology to the wind. Congo was an appropriate place to do that, as I had never worked there before, knew no one, spoke no French, and had heard that travel there would be extremely difficult.

Really I had two subjects. One was Congo, of course, but the other was photography itself. The decision to use infrared film was in keeping with this intuitive desire to negotiate a broken interface. I was deeply unsatisfied with documentary photography and wished to push it well out of its comfort zone.

Joseph Conrad struggled with the same sort of problem here in Congo a century before. He described a very concrete humanitarian disaster in language that verges on the abstract and on heightened sensory impressionism. Heart of Darkness is written in an oppressive and sinister tone: "We were cut off from the comprehension of our surroundings; we glided past like phantoms, wondering and secretly appalled." Conrad pushes language almost to the breaking point, struggling to recount an elusive darkness. "It is like another art altogether;" writes Conrad, "that sombre theme had given a sinister resonance, a tonality of its own, a continued vibration that would hang in the air and swell on the ear after the last note had been struck."

I felt Aerochrome, Kodak's discontinued colour infrared film, would provide me with a unique window through which to survey the battlefield of eastern Congo. Realism described in infrared becomes shrouded by the exotic, shifting the gears of Orientalism. Traditional documentary evidence is pushed unwillingly into fiction, and an unsettling pink world of magical realism is formed. It's not unlike Werner Herzog's ecstatic truth.

This special film gave me a way of thinking through my role as a white male photographing in Congo with a big wooden camera. By extension, it allowed me to begin to evaluate the rules of photojournalism, which always seems to be thrust upon me in my task of representing conflict, and which I wished to challenge in my own peculiar way.

As my understanding of the situation deepened, so I felt that this precarious aesthetic strategy actually corresponded with certain specifics of my subject. I learned, for example, that a Rwandan Hutu rebel group that I sought to photograph moves nomadically through the landscape, emerging only to loot or ambush before disappearing back into the bush, living in a state of peripatetic exile. In spite of the pervasive presence of these rebels, dispersed widely through the region, they go virtually unseen. The infrared film medium - a surveillance technology created for the purpose of registering the invisible and detecting an enemy hidden in the landscape - began to take an active role in my imagination.

The unseen, the hidden, the invisible - these are all integral aspects of Congo's war. In Iraq, for example, you have concrete apartment blocks smashed open by Hellfire missiles. The war's trace is easy to read. You just need to point a camera at it. But in rural Congo, the architecture is comprised of wattle huts, provisional structures that are swiftly abandoned and almost as quickly swallowed by the equatorial jungle. The rebels prefer to save their bullets, tending to use white weapons (from the French armes blanches, which are bladed weapons whose white metal reflects the light) over firearms, leaving almost no perceptible trace on the land.

The International Rescue Committee estimates 5.4 million deaths of war related causes in eastern Congo since 1998. More conservative estimates put it at less than half that, which is still a staggering number of victims. Yet Congo barely figures in our global consciousness. Infrared's mediation of an invisible world, unseen by the human eye, gave me the space to reflect on this forgotten conflict and paint it in vivid new colours.

The infrared film also serves to clearly emphasize the authorial hand. The very unusual colour palette raises a red (or pink!) flag to viewers, asking them to consider the constructed nature of these, and by extension all photographs.

Susan Sontag wrote that photojournalists generally choose to, "fly low, artistically speaking" in order to avoid confronting the problems of making photographs of human suffering. They deliberately de-aestheticize their imagery, adopting a grainy, blurred, black-and-white style, deliberately avoiding beauty.

I believe the genre was born with Robert Capa's D-Day photographs. But let's not forget that Capa's photographs from that day were sent back to the lab in London and accidentally cooked in the processor by the lab technician. This blown-out, lo-fi style of war photography was an accident. But it is now the received form, contrived and coveted by many war photographers, and one we tend to believe unquestionably has the greatest claim to veracity. This style is just as constructed and synthetic as any other, but it lulls us into believing it is somehow more transparent, organic, therefore true.

I am interested in pushing a lurid, disturbing beauty in my portrayal of Congo's war not just to capture the heart.

My approach has sometimes been dismissed as morally irresponsible. I find it fascinating that colour can provoke such a response. While my work is documentary in spirit, I have struggled with the idea that documentary photography, regardless of the photographer's concerns, arrives pre-loaded with an implicit assumption of advocacy. My work is not a performance of the ethical. I'm concerned less with conscience than with consciousness. I feel it's important to remember that any account we make of Congo is a Western projection.

Online, among bloggers, tumblrs, facebookers etc, Infra has had its own quite active life, circulating virally. Though this is completely out of my control, I feel that if the photographs can surprise and seduce someone into taking a couple of minutes to think about Congo and its pernicious cycle of wars, then the work has succeeded in its own small way.

Experienced at full scale in a gallery context (the prints are more than 2x2m (6x8ft) in size and immensely detailed), viewers are sometimes disturbed to find themselves seduced by the beauty of images made in a place of profound human suffering, hunger, massacres and human rights violations. Perhaps that moment of anxiety is the spark that can allow the viewer to step back from himself in the act of viewing, and begin to reflect on the ways in which documentary photography operates.

Infra By Richard Mosse is on at the Open Eye Gallery in Liverpool until 10 June 2012.

One such group is called Image17, a collective of photographers based in Waltham Forest who were commissioned by the borough's Council to create a body of work called Taking Part. The project sees the photographers documenting more than 48 community sports groups in Waltham Forest with the resulting pictures being exhibited at various locations in the run-up to the 2012 Olympics.

The focus of the project came from Nicola Tree who was inspired by the Olympic ethos of "it's not the winning but the taking part that counts". "I wanted to produce an all-inclusive, community based photographic record of local sports focusing on the dedication and talent in the Borough," she said. "Its aim was to counterbalance the celebrity culture surrounding the elite and extremely talented athletes that the world will be watching throughout the games this summer."

Each photographer tackled a number of sports, and here they explain a little about their work alongside one picture from their projects.

"What I found particularly inspiring during this project was the work that the volunteers at both Vestry Elite Football Club and County ABC Boxing do to support and inspire local young people that might be particularly vulnerable.

"Through training; teaching discipline and respect; and through having positive role models and mentoring; the dedicated volunteers that run these groups made a huge impact of these people's lives, building confidence and self esteem, giving people a sense of purpose and in doing so, breaking associations with gangs, or preventing the young people from the need to associate with gangs in the first place.

"It's so important to have those role models in our local area, these volunteers are dedicated and committed and much of their work goes unseen and unfunded."

"Not being a particularly sporting individual myself I was often left completely in awe after working with the clubs. The pride, dedication and sheer hard work that happens on a weekly basis was inspiring, and I wanted the images to reflect this.

"On a less serious note, I received an email from one of the club secretaries who hadn't been there that night saying: 'It was funny hearing about the shoot on Friday. Some had to swap goggles because it clashed with their costume, others were wearing their most fancy costumes and I heard about one swimmer that was so busy looking at the camera that they fell in off the blocks instead of diving.' As the photographer I has been completely oblivious to any of this."

"From seven-year-olds competing in Judo to mature ladies partaking in Bowls, my main goal, after taking to all of the people I have encountered over the past year, is that these events need to be championed and highlighted, not only at this important time for the borough, but especially after the Olympics has ended."

"Over a period of six months I photographed four local sports groups in and around the Chingford area for Image17's Taking Part project. Through photography I saw first-hand how every participant shares a passion and enthusiasm for their chosen sport and how friendship and camaraderie can provide a few hours of escapism from our daily lives.

"With an exciting summer of sport ahead of us, I hope that the Taking Part exhibition not only demonstrates how sport brings us closer together but also provides a showcase for the fantastic sporting opportunities available to all in the local community."

"Photographing the Leaside Canoe Club members was exciting as I got to go out on the water with them and experience for myself the sport first hand. It was also inspiring to be in the company of Olympic 2012 hopefuls who were getting ready to compete in the world championships. Their stories of sacrifice for the sport were compelling and I hope my images capture their professionalism, ambition and determination."

"All of the footballers were really proud and eager to have their picture taken. My favourite shot is the boy sitting in the ramshackle stand with turf on it. I like the atmosphere of it and again his innocence."

"It's wonderful to watch the young trampoliners hang onto their coach's every word. She's a hard task master but they really respect her and want to do their best, I hope I've captured that."

"In this sporting age of corporate greed, slick advertising campaigns and multimillion pound sponsorship deals, it's easy to forget about the thousands of people who take part in amateur sport and the phenomenal work that goes on at grass roots level across the entire country."

"The people and groups photographed for Taking Part are amazing. They are so dedicated to their sports whether it's to win medals, keep fit, or simply have fun."

"The Archery club shoots both target and field Archery. It felt quite surreal watching people shoot foam shaped exotic animals in the Forest, the leopard seemed especially out of place. However, it looked extremely good fun, as well as challenging and skilful."

"When I began this project I wanted to photograph activities that made sure everyone was included. After all, the ethos of the Olympic and Paralympic Games is that they are for everyone and are about bringing people together.

"So I initially got in touch with Waltham Forest Council Sports and Leisure team, Tottenham Hotspur Foundation and the Leyton Orient Community Sports Programme. They invited me to their various activities and I had three fantastic experiences meeting the participants and the people running the events. I also got to see how important the volunteers were too - people who give their time to make sure everyone can take part in such a wide variety of sporting activities."

"Working on The Taking Part Project has been a wonderful experience for me and has pushed me outside my comfort zone as I normally shoot architecture. As a keen cyclist I really enjoyed going out and capturing the cycling group, and the fast and sometimes quite scary ice hockey shoot was great fun. I love the camaraderie that the group has and the support from its members."

"Being an outlying London borough comprised of both built-up urban areas and large open spaces I decided I wanted to portray the relationship between the participants and the diverse local landscape found in Waltham Forest. Equally, as time plays a critical factor in sport I wanted to visualize this in my pictures. Some aspects of training can be extremely long and arduous whilst an athletes performance is measured in split seconds and a football match can be won or lost in an instant."

You can see more of Image17's work on their website.

Caroline Briggs, a former colleague, dropped by the other day and told me about her latest project which explores this area through the use of double exposure. It's a novel approach.

Caroline is herself a twin, and it's an aspect of her own identity she has explored in previous work whilst studying at Saint Martins College, but this is the first time in such a direct manner.

"Like most twins, I hate being compared to my sister, and most other twin projects have that freak show quality of compare-and-contrast that leaves me cold," Caroline told me. "While I'm also interested in the physical similarities and differences between identical twins, I also want to explore identity and the emotional side of being one half of pair too.

"The battle between wanting to be alike, yet craving an identity separate from your real-life clone, is one I have lived. By creating a single portrait from two people poses questions about their relationship and their desire - or lack of desire - to live completely separate lives."

Caroline's double exposure approach offers the viewer two levels on which to examine the photograph. There's the conundrum of trying to separate the two figures and finding a way to see both faces, plus there's the deeper exploration of their personalities. Of course, a photograph can't really capture much more than shape and form, but the choice of clothes, hair styles and even expression all create reactions within the viewer.

"Younger twins are yet to form their own identities," Caroline said. "They often wear the same clothes chosen by their parents, but by the time we reach adulthood that all changes. The decisions the twins have made, and their life experiences, are more obvious in the portraits of older twins."

Of course Caroline could pose the twins, yet that's not part of the process preferring to offer little in the way of direction. Being a twin herself provides a degree of common ground.

Once the pictures are taken, then they are overlaid in post-production and it is then that the similarities in the faces are revealed. "Sometimes some features fit identically, other times their faces seem so different," she adds.

"I love hearing back from the twins I've shot as they seem so interested in the process and share their thoughts on which twin they 'see' most in the single image. In my photograph, for example, I see only my sister, as does she. It's interesting to think that in the way many twins often have one dominant personality; maybe one has a more dominant visual appearance...?"

The project is very much ongoing and Caroline is keen to hear from twins who might be interested in taking part. You can contact her via Twitter or via her website.

At that time he wrote a report for me on his time in Japan, and subsequently a follow-up six months later from the town of Yuriage. Now a year on, he has returned once more. Here is his final report from the region.

When I arrived in Yuriage this winter it was coated in a wet soft snow. The first place I went was to the hill where the Hiyoriyama shrine once stood, the highest point in town providing the best view. Nearly a year earlier I arrived at the same spot when the landscape was submerged in black water. Nearly all structures had been laid to waste, producing a jagged, raw landscape that smelled of rotting wood, dead bodies and stagnant water.

The transformation of Tohoku's landscape has been profound. Hundreds of miles of coastline - roughly equalling the distance between Washington DC and Boston - have been scrubbed clean of the debris scattered in the tsunami's aftermath. As far as clean-ups go, this may just be the world's most impressive, both for the speed at which the clearing took place, and in the meticulous attention to detail in which even the smallest items that could be meaningful to a survivor were preserved.

I chose to photograph the white landscape of Yuriage because it reminded me of stories and feelings that survivors shared with me this harsh winter. Beneath the snow's serenity remain the frames of houses and scattered lost mementoes - memories of a full and vibrant town that people cannot forget.

On a purely literal level, the whiteness of the landscape asks the question, what is to be done about this blank slate of a town and region?

The citizenry of Tohoku, and the self-defence forces who rescued so many lives, shone in the initial response to the disaster. The clearing of towns gave the impression that something constructive was underway, that new life would be springing from the wreckage sooner than anyone had thought. But ideas to bring new towns to life cannot just spring up the way a town can be cleared. Imagining and agreeing what will take its place is a lot more complex and time consuming.

All up and down the coast, communities are engaging in the very human and therefore messy process of deciding what their future will be. And where it will be. Much of the older generation wants to move back because these towns are all they know. For those thinking about new families and opportunities, they ask whether there should be a future so close to the sea that brought so much destruction and loss.

As city councils propose plans, residents debate and propose their own solutions. The process of moving on is a complicated one. Meanwhile Tohoku's landscape remains a blank slate.

Jake is in the process of creating a website chronicling his months in Yuriage, you can see it here. You can see more of Jake Price's other work on his website.

His work follows in the footsteps of some of the most celebrated photographers of the past, including Bill Brandt, Tony Ray Jones, Tom Wood and of course Martin Parr. Dench can trace his inspiration back to his time spent flicking through books by those and others, such as Greg Leach and Paul Reas while studying at the Bournemouth & Poole College of Art & Design.

"If you could travel the world, make people laugh and make people think, that was a fine way to live; if you could do it with a drink in your hand, that was the life for me," Peter recalls. "It was a revelation to understand that a photographer didn't have to get on a plane to a far-flung conflict; you could just climb aboard the bus."

He has in fact jumped aboard many planes in his time having worked in more than 50 countries as a photographer for a wide range of clients, from The British Heart Foundation to Weetabix, as well as editorial outlets like The New York Times, Newsweek, Observer Magazine and many more.

Growing up beside the sea Peter found himself drawn to Martin Parr's ground breaking, and indeed controversial look at the seaside resort of New Brighton. The Last Resort re-wrote the rules for photographers, placed colour photography in the UK on the map and even now, more than 25 years on it still has the power to shock and amuse all at the same time.

"The first colours I saw were saturated; striped deck chairs, arcade rides, Punch and Judy. The Last Resort echoed a familiar world from my youth, a saturated slap about the face, colours that burned a permanent impression directly onto the retina," Peter told me. "Working on foreign assignments across the globe has clarified to me just how different, how fabulous, and at times, how ridiculous the English are."

His book, England Uncensored, reflects this view. Yet it is not simply a compilation of clever photographs, there is a voice within the work, one that offers a social commentary.

On seeing some of the early work for the project his editor pushed him to move away from pictures that were just humorous, and include those that had an anthropological angle. The result of this was Drinking of England, a series first published across 11 pages in The Sunday Times Magazine and which went on to win a World Press Photo Award.

"Galvanized by the project's success, I've been conscious of continuing to apply the humorous approach with an underlying social commentary to themes throughout the work; themes of ethnicity, love, the weather, clothing and food," Peter said. "The humour disarms viewers allowing the impact of a more serious image dropped into the sequence to be tenfold.

"It was important for my photography on the English to document what was familiar from my youth and also to document what I had no idea about; posh schools, social summer events, jollies and jamborees; to create a rounded look at the English both geographically and socially."

"The colours and style of my work is largely born out of laziness and fear. I was always petrified of 'pushing' film, preferring to blast subjects with the flash to make sure something scarred the film. I also prefer shooting in the sunshine, not too early and not too late; unless it's in a pub or club."

And here we have to return to Martin Parr and his influence. Peter is open about this, and in November last year returned to New Brighton to follow in his footsteps.

"I made a Parr pilgrimage to New Brighton to see what had changed or had remained the same. I stood knees bent in the exact spot where Parr had photographed two children dribbling ice cream in front of a weather shelter.

Peter Dench's New Brighton Revisited

"Rarely does a day go by in my professional life when Parr isn't mentioned by, or to me. It's impossible to photograph England without seeing Parr parts in many shots; crying children, litter, dogs with their tongues hanging out, bad food, bad weather. As a photographer I embrace that influence. I would like to think I would have arrived at the style of photography I have regardless of Parr; he certainly hastened the process and blazed a path for its acceptance as a photographic way of seeing.

"Leaving New Brighton, having walked in Parr's footsteps, confirmed why I will always be a photographer and why I will always document the English; to photograph what is real, to record the present in an attempt to preserve the nation's past."

You might think this is a niche interest, yet England Uncensored is to be published as a book by the publishing arm of the crowd-funded visual journalism platform Emphas.is. The response to this call for funding was swift with $12,000 pledged in 15 days.

"It was important for the work to be published in Jubilee year," Peter said. "England Uncensored is a laugh out loud romp through this often badly behaved nation, it is not an idealized brochure of a green and pleasant land. In this Jubilee year of Great British pomp, where the media coverage is expected to be as polished as the crown jewels, it is important for us as a nation to remember who we really are, warts and all."

You can see more of Peter Dench's work on his website.

Yet the project did not end there. The aim is for these 24 postgraduate students to repeat the process each year for 24 years, steadily moving through the hours of the day, so that by the end each will have shot a photograph from each hour in the day.

Inevitably there have been changes to the original group. Some have fallen away and others come back to the project after a break. The latest collection of photos is now on show in Berkeley Square, Mayfair until 19 March. To ensure some sort of cohesion to the show, there is always a guiding theme, this time it is "empty".

"The exhibition is going from strength to strength and now in our ninth year we've really developed an identity," says Claire Spreadbury, the founder of 24photography.

"New Year's Day is an exciting time of the year, and we hope that 24 captures some of that excitement, but also gives a little glimpse into the rest of the day after the celebrations and parties."

Here's a selection of photos on show this year, some accompanied by comments from the artists.

You can see more of this year's pictures and follow the project on their website.

It is a powerful picture, both in terms of the content and aesthetics. The pose has been likened to Michelangelo's Pieta and the Renaissance style of lighting elevates it from an illustrative news picture to something that has a heritage.

Yet of course, it was just one of 100,000 entries to this year's World Press Photo competition and follows in the footsteps of other winners of a similar nature, including Georges Merillon's picture from 1990 and Hocine's 1997 winner. Both have similar painterly qualities and depict moments of high emotion. The scars of conflict or loss have featured prominently through later years, with Merillon's pictures seemingly a turning point. Prior to that, the winning pictures tended to be of dramatic moments, or shocking photographs of the dead. That was certainly the first year where the aesthetics of the picture played an important part in its impact.

At first glance it is easy to assume that this is a mother or wife cradling a loved one who has been killed. We are used to such images, those that sometimes lead to photography being accused of simply placing mute figures inside a frame. Where is the voice of the subject?

Well, in this case we have just that. Matthew Bannister of the World Service programme Outlook tracked down the woman in the photograph and spoke to her about the moment.

Her name is Fatima al-Qaws and she is pictured with her son, Zayed, who had been injured taking part in an anti-government protest in Sanaa, the capital of Yemen.

"On that day, 15 October 2011, there were demonstrations and the demonstrators were attacked. I knew something had happened because there was a power cut. I am always worried because my son always went out to demonstrations, they go out all the time, and because he had been wounded previously I went to the field hospital.

"I looked among the dead people and among the wounded. I went around many times and finally I found him in a small hall not far from the mosque. He had difficulty breathing and I knew that he had suffocated from the tear gas thrown earlier on. So I just took him into my arms and held him very close to me. I didn't know what had happened to him. Because he had been injured before I was extremely worried.

"I wasn't aware of what was happening around me, my concern was my son. There may have been people around me but my only concern was my son. I was really upset, but at the same time I was thinking that my son had become a martyr like all the other martyrs of Yemen, all the young people who had fallen.

"First of all I didn't know anything about the photo that had been taken. But I got a call from my sister in the United Arab Emirates, she told me that her son saw the picture and he thinks that it is Zayed and myself.

"I didn't believe it at first, especially as it was a veiled lady so no one knows. But then I saw it on Facebook and some friends and young people who were using Facebook sent me the photos on my mobile phone. So this was how I found out about it.

"I do remember that moment, I remember the moment that I embraced him because I thought he was dying. I was crying, but I wasn't crying because I was sad, I was crying because I had found my son and he wasn't dead yet.

"People ask me, 'Were you crying under your veil, were you crying when you saw your son?' I was happy that he was still alive and could be saved.

"It makes me very happy to see this picture, to see also that it has won such a prestigious award. It makes me proud. Proud for being a woman, proud for being a mother and proud for being Yemeni. I am very proud that this photo is going around the world and that many people have seen it.

"Especially it makes me even happier that Western people have chosen that photo. That would be a real surprise if the photographer comes to Yemen and I will get to meet him. I will thank him that he has made us known to the world, especially the women of Yemen."

Her son Zayed added, "When I saw the picture I was really taken back to that day. It makes me happy, but I remember what happened on that day, because the picture explains everything, the love of the mother and the wounded son and what happened on that day in Yemen.

"Of course I will go out to demonstrations because nothing has changed, corruption is still around."

World Press Photo winner 2011

As with all photographs there are many voices at work, many readings and no ultimate truth.

In line with past winners, this picture hits the spot in terms of the language of photojournalism, and is part of a Western heritage the goes back to the birth of the miniature camera. Yet alone it is not the whole story, just a small representation of something that happened. Combined with the words of those in the photo, Fatima al-Qaws and her son Zayed, our reading of it changes and its strength is increased.

Photography is a powerful tool and often has too big a burden placed on its shoulders. It is after all just a split second seen through a small hole. But just sometimes a picture comes along that can carry the load.

You can see more of Samuel Aranda's photographs on his website.

Combining found images, snapshots and staged pictures, the exhibition comprises four bodies of work: The Other Woman, The Clandestine Purse, Married Man, and the more recent Fairytale for Sale.

"For me the medium isn't important. I select how to produce my work on a project-by-project basis," Natasha told me. "But I do enjoy pushing myself into new territory - such as the found images, or working with audio - I work best when I'm feeling uncomfortable and challenged."

The work is certainly challenging, both from a content point of view and some of the methods used to obtain the material.

Her latest work is called Fairytale for Sale and consists of a collection of photographs taken from online adverts of brides wearing now redundant wedding dresses. The faces of the brides have been scratched out or obscured, and the dresses, symbols of an idealised view of western life, are reduced to commodities. Each one is on sale, though the reasons why vary, from divorce to a simple desire to de-clutter.

Natasha said: "The women were eager to sell their dress to me, and through an exchange of emails I was able to obtain the photographs, along with the reasons why they were selling their dress. These answers I use as a text installation alongside a collection of photographs, and their words go someway to explain why they have obscured their faces in such bizarre ways."

The Other Woman is a more conventional photographic project and was made back in 2005. The pictures portray women who have experienced affairs with married men and was inspired by a personal experience.

"The work was made in 2005, before I realised the power of the internet as a research tool. I placed adverts in Time Out, local classified newspaper sections and shop windows.

"I didn't need to persuade the 'other women' to pose for me. The shoots were created through collaboration between the subject and myself, and we discussed the location and pose beforehand. Some shoots were 30 minutes and others were shot over two days, it depended on the subject."

When I asked Natasha if the project was about her moving on, she told me: "No I didn't use it to move on. But through the course of the project I did end up doing so. I was interested in how I suddenly was given a label and wanted to explore how other women felt. Every story is different but society uses the same wording - mistress, bunny boiler, home wrecker etc."

"One of the subjects was an older lady. She was a real character and not as you would imagine an 'other woman' to be," said Natasha. "Our shoot was really fun. In contrast, one of the younger subjects who got involved with the father of the child she was babysitting was very emotional. But it was rewarding as she was able to confide in someone about her experience."

The other photographic part of the show looks at the Married Man series, which depict some of the 80 dates Natasha went on with married men, each one organised through dating websites. The identities of the men are not revealed.

This again uses a different photographic technique, snapshots if you like, often matched to audio recorded surreptitiously during the dates. The work questions the motives of both the men and the artist.

Natasha said: "On the dates I used a fake name but I would say I was a photographer, and my getting out a disposable camera each time became my alibi as they thought I was a harmless amateur. I was only able to take one or two shots per date so they didn't ever get suspicious.

"Yet on one date in Soho a man did get suspicious and asked me if I was an undercover reporter. This was one of my last dates so I suppose I was a bit on autopilot by then, and maybe didn't seem that genuine anymore."

The work is both challenging and engaging, though some will feel it crossed the line of what is acceptable and this is something that Natasha had to work through.

"I spent a long time considering what to do with the hours of audio material," she said. "I tried different edits... but I never felt comfortable in the power I had to manipulate the material to get a particular response from the viewer.

"In the end I realised I wanted to use the audio (although yes, ethically immoral), and I just used the parting 30 seconds of us saying goodbye. I used this material as it was, unedited and un-tampered.

"I also justify the work by considering that the men are cheating on their wives, and I'm cheating on them. So who is in the wrong? Yes two wrongs don't make a right, but I hope the work opens a unique conversation in the viewer's mind, given their personal experience, ethics or morals."

You can see more of Natasha Caruana's work on her website, and her exhibition, Married Man and other stories is on at Photofusion until 23 March 2012.

The world watched pictures beamed from the missiles as they made their way to their intended target, or in some cases to a different spot entirely. War seemed remote, and the visuals did nothing to convey the reality for those on the wrong end of events.

Today we are used to seeing real time reports from across the globe, technology has advanced and anyone with an internet connection can travel to far-off places, even imaginary worlds, from their armchair.

The world of video games has progressed too. Some seem real, as highlighted by a recent Ofcom ruling that ITV misled viewers by airing footage claimed to have been shot by the IRA, which was actually material taken from a video game.

Labelled "IRA Film 1988", it was described as film shot by the IRA of its members attempting to down a British Army helicopter in June 1988. However, the pictures were actually taken from a game called Arma 2.

Photographer John Cantlie raised an interesting point with me recently. As the latest generation of computer war games are so realistic, he wondered, perhaps the next sufferers of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) may not even have left their bedrooms.

Working with Ivan Buchta at Bohemia Interactive Studios, who developed Arma 2, he matched his own photos with scenes from the virtual war zone.

The last really good session of the game Battlefield 3 I played on my PC left me, I'm forced to admit, somewhat drained.

The noise of gunfire and rocket explosions, the speed at which things changed, the way it was impossible to tell from where incoming fire was coming, and the charge for enemy positions were both exhausting and exhilarating. I was desperate for another go.

But it reminded me uncannily of a long, bloody day in Libya on 24 September 2011.

I was alongside a rebel battalion photographing for The Sunday Times as they pushed headlong into Sirte, the last pro-Gaddafi stronghold in the country. It was a nasty day, Gaddafi's forces amassed and stopped the rebel advance dead in its tracks, killing 24 and wounding over 70 by the time it got dark.

But the noises, the hellish cacophony, the crashes of the RPGs and the complete chaos - all of it had been eerily similar to that hour-long session of digitised warfare on my computer.

My mouse hand was sweaty and my pupils dilated.

Bedroom PTSD or too much coffee? Either way, modern combat games are closer in their intended effects to the real thing than many realise.

So I went through my photos taken from various combat zones, and attempted to replicate them in a computer game.

The game Arma 2 was ideal - it's more of a war simulation than an all-out blaster, with the correct uniforms, vehicles and weapons as well as varied terrains and bang-bang firefights.

Plenty of hours fiddling within the gaming environment, alongside Ivan who developed the game, produced some pretty remarkable results.

In some cases it is actually quite hard to tell the difference between my photographs and the computer version, which is deeply worrying. The level of detail is so precise that the virtual war zone is as convincing as the real thing.

Throw in modern sound effects and a determined and cunning foe, and a foot patrol in Upper Gereshk is less taxing than a few hours sat at the keyboard.

At this rate I'll be out of a job in five years. But that'll free up more time for playing. Below are more of my war zone v war game images to compare and contrast.

He has recently travelled to North Kenya with Oxfam where he used his trademark style to depict some of those affected by the drought in the region. There is a danger that the ethereal beauty of his pictures could of course eclipse the subject, yet for me he manages to ensure that at heart his pictures are about those within the frame.

"That is the main challenge for me," Alejandro said. "I would like to break with the idea that a beautiful picture of a hurtful situation detracts from its message or documentary value.

"All realities have light and shade and nothing determines that photographing in a tough way would offer a clearer message; it is just a decision of the artist who is trying to communicate an idea.

"Famine in East Africa is a painful reality of a preventable catastrophe, but even in this situation people love, desire and dream of a better future.

"I find myself as a classic photographer using film cameras interested in photographic techniques and portraiture. My intention is to highlight a hopeful vision of the present, showing people's strength and to inspire the viewer that a change is possible."

Alejandro's technique means his subjects have to remain still for a long time, reminiscent of exposure times from the 19th Century. I asked him whether he was able to envisage the final image or whether there was an element of chance once the lens cap is off?

"At the beginning the sitters found it strange to be photographed in the night, but after explaining the photographic process, they reacted so naturally that I was very surprised," Alejandro said.

He added: "I am always trying to pre-visualize the image before the shoot; it is an exciting exercise that rarely becomes effective. The key to the outcome of the image is the reaction of people to immobility and the place where the moon is on the sky during the shoot. During the work in northern Kenya I have had no more than 15 minutes of clear sky in a whole week, so I had to adapt to this new situation."

You've made a big impression over the past year or so, winning the Sony award and being selected by Martin Parr for the Brighton Biennial, how does it feel to have your work recognised around the world and what's next for you?

"This is all very exciting. I feel that somehow to have worked for this project in Kenya is a special moment in my path, where my interest in social photography and creation come together.

"I am currently in Tokyo preparing my first exhibition in Asia and I will become a Dad for the first time, plus I am also planning a road trip throughout Latin America where I plan to use photography in a more experimental way."

It sounds like we'll be seeing more of Alejandro in the future. You can see more of his work on his website.

Where once a photo was something to be valued, something you could hold, today thousands bombard our senses. Anyone under the age of 10 will inherit thousands of pictures documenting their developmental years - how, in these vast archives, will they locate those special moments? The notion of a few dozen Kodachromes documenting a life is long since gone.

Professionals too now work in compressed timescales. Last year photographers covering the royal wedding were able to get their pictures to news desks across the globe in minutes. Just as importantly, the digitisation of the production process has meant the erosion of some aspects of professional work, with part-timers stepping in to some markets.

But this is not a recent development, and many of the current generation of professional photographers have never used film. But don't write film off yet. Many leading photographers (and some amateurs for that matter) remain committed to the medium, especially those working on long-term documentary projects.

Breaking through the sheer volume of pictures can be tough, but there are many remarkable photographers out there with plenty to say. As the late Eve Arnold put it: "If a photographer cares about the people before the lens and is compassionate, much is given. It is the photographer, not the camera, that is the instrument."

Painted Photographs is drawn from the collection of photographer Martin Parr who is well known for his avid collecting of all things photographic. The pictures on show are press prints and publicity shots which have been prepared for use in a publication or possibly for broadcast.

A picture of John Lennon and Yoko Ono shows how the picture editor was only interested in a tight crop of Lennon's head, another shows James Dean with a fake leg, and another reduces boxing's greatest champ, Muhammad Ali, to a close-up.

The collection struck a chord with me as the BBC News photographic archive in the basement of Television Centre holds a number of "painted photographs", as this was the way in which all pictures were prepared for broadcast on the news before electronic graphics entered the arena.

So what is special about them? Surely they are just a good photograph ruined. Well no. They are no longer just a photograph, but a unique object. The print itself has taken on the value and interest rather than the image alone, making them something more than one of many reproductions from a single negative.

"They are remnants of the old analogue world," says Martin Parr, "so this type of thing is redundant. It is the surreal nature of them, where bits of the photos have been printed out and the fact that we show the whole photographs, that is the thing that is exciting."

These pictures have a history, they have been part of a production process, from the first crop of the world through the lens of the photographer to the mark-up by the editor. The chinagraph markings that signal where the edit should be made for reproduction are now the evidence, or trace, of how this picture was used and displayed in the media.

"Most of the ones that I show here came from the States," said Parr. "There was a particular period where the flea markets of New York were very rich with them and I found 150 or so on two or three visits."

What about the UK? "I haven't particularly looked here to be honest," said Martin, "I mean you showed me the ones the other day, but they are in the BBC collection so I can't go out and buy them."

The BBC connection

Throughout the years I have stumbled upon many of these "painted photographs" in the BBC archive. They were created by graphic designers for output on the news of the day and this may have involved painting in extra parts of the photograph so it would fit the format for transmission. or knocking back a section so a chart or bullet points could be overlaid.

This is of course way back. For example the picture of Ian Smith tolling the Independence Bell in Rhodesia was taken in 1966 and first broadcast by the BBC on 11 November that year, and again on 10 November in 1976, that time from two different news studios, N1 and N2 at Television Centre.

The picture is of an historic moment, but it is the item that is now of interest as well. The copyright belongs to the Associated Press, but the print has a history attached to it and the markings on the reverse are part of that. Right down to the cost of reproduction back in 1966.

I shall endeavour to seek out others like this in the archive, though it's a time consuming job as you simply have to wade through the files one by one, and there are a fair few. For now, here are a couple more drawn from the BBC Photo Archive and not part of the exhibition.

Martin Parr's Painted Photographs is on show at the Open Eye Gallery in Liverpool 13 January - 18 March 2012.

Visual storytelling is complex and difficult to navigate on your own. After 20 years of working for newspapers, I finally had the courage to resign in 2009. Since that time, I have been evolving as a journalist in the constantly changing landscape of visual storytelling. It was a tough decision to leave the Dallas Morning News, and the friendships and extraordinary talent that had inspired me over seven years.

Since 2009 I've continued to evolve as a freelance journalist; learning about copyright, archiving, invoicing, creative fees and contracts. This new landscape I've found myself in has challenged, empowered and terrified me. I started in photography as a 20-year-old in New Zealand at a 13,000-circulation newspaper. Newspapers became my university where my mistakes were published and I learnt to rely on the family of photographers that surrounded me. The journalists, the editors, the designers, the copy editors, the printers at the presses, they were all my guides, teaching me that story telling is created through the talents of many.

As a freelancer, I struggled to find a substitute for the newsroom family that I had grown to love. So I began to find new communities, new families.

In January, I joined five photographers in a collective - Prime. We are motivated by a belief in the importance of self-directed projects, and a commitment to journalistic integrity. We market each other's work, educate each other in business practices and inspire and support each other through whatever life throws our way.

In April, a documentary project I had been working on for a year was published. The Monster Under The Water documented the fishermen of Delacroix Island in Louisiana courageously trying to stop millions of barrels of oil from invading their marsh as it gushed from the Deep Water Horizon Oil Rig.

There are so many different ways of telling a long-form visual story. For me, the foundation begins with research to find what story you tell and the people through which to tell it; finding funding that supports your efforts; building relationships within the story that deepens intimate moments; gathering the content; editing and producing the story piece by piece, and finally publishing the story across multiple platforms from websites, books, magazines, newspapers, and exhibitions. And within each step, there are people who can help develop each layer of the story.

The Monster Under the Water was told through a collaboration of incredible people, who guided me through eight hours of video interviews and thousands of images. The online investigative newsroom ProPublica funded the project, and editor Susan White helped me find the story through frequent phone calls to Louisiana. Mike Davis, a freelance picture editor and consultant, helped shape the visual narrative by editing images and advising me how to push my image making to the next level. June Cross, a freelance documentary filmmaker, helped craft the audio narrative by teaching me about character, structure, pacing and how to weave one paragraph into the next.

ProPublica published the story on their website on 13 April. The BBC published the video on 19 April, the day before the one-year anniversary of the explosion, and gained around 200,000 hits in just a few days.

I was excited, exhausted and so incredibly proud. I'd found new friends and collaborators who shared my vision, allowed me to be a better storyteller, and helped me reach a new audience and tell a powerful story. The voices of Delacroix fishermen Kimmie, Jason, Eric and Thomas were finally heard.

But the next day, on 20 April, I learned that two extraordinary journalists Chris Hondros and Tim Hetherington were killed in Misrata, Libya. I knew Chris. He exemplified all that is good about journalism. He was extraordinarily talented, had a keen wit and fierce intelligence, and a heart that embraced and loved all that surrounded him. Our photographic community is still struggling with their passing.

These events have taught me how incredibly important it is to establish and nurture a supportive community. I love people and I love being a storyteller. The courage that someone has when they step in front of a camera is a moment as decisive as the photograph itself. My inspiration and passion doesn't come from photography. It comes from doing justice to the story through the people who allow us into their lives.

Melanie Burford was part of the team of Dallas Morning News photographers who received the 2006 Pulitzer Prize for breaking news photography, awarded for their coverage of Hurricane Katrina. In 2009 she won the Emmy Award for her portfolio of video documentary work at the Lone Star Emmy Advanced Media Awards. Melanie's work has been recognized at the 74th annual National Headliner Awards, the Harry Chapin Media Awards, the Clarion Awards, the Best of Photojournalism and Pictures of the Year International. Originally from New Zealand, Melanie moved to New York in 2009 and is a founding member of Prime Collective.

You can see more of Melanie's work on her website.

Related posts:

"For a number of years I was relentlessly pursued by 10 to 15 men, almost daily... Spat at, verbally abused... I would often find myself, at the age of 21, at midnight, running down a dark street on my own with 10 men chasing me. And the fact they had cameras in their hands made that legal."

Such was actor Sienna Miller's shaming testimony to The Leveson Inquiry into the culture, practice and ethics of the press, which has shown news photographers in an unflattering light.

Professional bodies such as the British Press Photographers' Association (BPPA) have been quick to counteract this tarnishing, insisting - accurately - that such behaviour does not typify the approach of the majority of news photographers. Yet in order for any meaningful change in these appalling practices to occur, those of us who work in and with photography are charged with taking this criticism seriously.

Miller's testimony needs to serve as a wake up call for the whole profession, not as an opportunity to trot out the 'we made her who she is today' defence, nor for the principled majority to distance itself from the unethical minority.

Public figures have the right to a private life. Miller became famous because she is good at what she does, and was a lucky winner in life's beauty lottery and is therefore prodigiously photographable. These elements combined do not de facto entitle every aspect of her life to be invaded.

The photographers who come to the University of Westminster to study on the course I run, MA Photojournalism, do not, for the most part, want to photograph celebrities. But many of them are interested in photographing in developing countries. Some of them even want to change the world (thank goodness). While the subjects of photographs are as varied as people on this earth - that is indeed what they are - the considerations that apply to taking and using their image are the same.

Many factors come into a play at the moment of squeezing the shutter. Does the photographer have the consent of the person he is photographing? If the person is not capable of giving their consent (if they do not speak the same language, or are injured for example, or even dead), is it appropriate to continue photographing?

If the person in the photograph is in obvious distress or danger, should the photographer put down the camera? Are there circumstances in which the photographer should provide help or assistance? If the photograph is taken, after all these considerations, who will see it? How will its future dissemination affect the people in the photograph?

In her now infamous opening line to The Journalist and the Murderer, Janet Malcolm wrote: 'Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on, knows that what he does is morally indefensible.'

The author expands on this in an interview with The Paris Review, saying that journalism is not a 'helping' profession, except for in the way that its exponents help themselves to 'what our subjects don't realize they are letting us take'. Ouch. How to argue with her position?

The most serious and considered practitioners are always careful to refer to the practice of making not taking photographs, but is this in fact a case of weasel words? And does knowing and understanding that photography is always a transaction make the act any more palatable? At what point does voyeurism - all photography is surely this - tip into scopophilia, a love of looking?

Among the current concerns of the photographic profession is that Leveson could result in so-called 'French-style' privacy laws - ie stringent ones - which would create as many problems as it would ease.

Photography of public marches and the police handling of them could be out of bounds. Street photography might become virtually obsolete. Imagine a history of photography without Cartier Bresson. While a debate about legislation and how it might benefit photography would no doubt be a valuable exercise, swingeing laws would not eradicate unethical practices any more than marriage prevents infidelity.

Photography exists in an interregnum right now, and is wrestling with new problems as well as difficulties inherent to the medium.

The rise of citizen journalism means of course that anyone with a camera can and does get published. As they are not members of a specific profession, and thus not united by a code of practice, anything goes.

If their imagery goes a step further, some editors might prefer to use their work. Staff photographers are becoming an increasingly rare breed, and this inevitably leads to an influx of freelancers, who are not necessarily working towards a united set of principles.

The demise of newspapers means that editors are ever more desperate to deliver customers to their diminishing advertisers and as such will publish anything they think they will help them in this quest.

The concept of 'public interest' has long since morphed into 'what interests the public'…which, to the dismay of serious news photographers, means a picture of someone who once failed to win on the X-Factor buying a large skinny latte (with their cellulite showing).

It is the duty of contemporary photographers to question continually what they are looking at, and why it is appropriate to permit others to look too. Such self awareness would not limit their practice, but would rather enhance it. And of course many of them do.

While the so called "Stalkerazzi" shame the profession, members of the BPPA and the photographers' branch of the NUJ, among others, are creating forums and running events where these and other issues are given serious consideration. They also provide an excellent opportunity for newcomers to consider the boundaries of their profession.

But even when best practice is followed to the letter, photographers might find their images take on other, unexpected forms. Jodi Bieber photographed Afghan women for a Time magazine article, and was aware of the power of her image of Bibi Aisha, whose nose and ears had been cut off by members of the Taliban as a punishment for fleeing her husband's home. Knowing Bieber and her work, I am certain she did not seek a sensationalist image, and - importantly - nor has she criticized Time for using the image of Aisha on its cover.

I agree with its usage, but not its accompanying cover strap line: What Happens if We Leave Afghanistan (no question mark). For me, Time turned an image taken with integrity into propaganda.

When the image went on to win World Press Photo, it was then used as the invitation to the subsequent exhibition. While I am not suggesting censorship of difficult imagery, it is not hard to conceive of a more respectful approach to disseminating the image (such as printing it on the inside of a fold-out invitation).

A photograph never exists in isolation. It is always part of a triangulated relationship which involves the photographer, subject and audience.

And photojournalism by its very nature is collaborative, and this means that picture editors, writers, designers, art directors and editors all share responsibility in the ongoing life of a photograph.

Frequently, however, doing the right thing comes naturally. As LIFE photographer Bill Eppridge commented about his unforgettable image of mortally wounded Robert Kennedy: "I never hung it on my wall."

Related posts:

Matt Dunham is a 33-year-old British photographer who studied Documentary Photography at the University of Wales in Newport and has worked on the staff at AP since 2005. He is best known for his picture of Prince Charles and his wife Camilla when their car was attacked during the student protests in London in December 2010.

Here's Matt's selection, starting with a series from Japan following the earthquake and tsunami that struck the country in March.

People residing in the earthquake-prone regions of the world live day-to-day with the reality that one could hit at any time. The earthquake that struck off the coast of Japan on 11 March was the biggest to hit the country since modern records began and killed more than 15,000 people.

I was covering an ice skating event in Sheffield when I received a call from my regional boss at AP, Tony Hicks. The Department for International Development were organising a flight for British search and rescue teams to deploy to Japan and they had room for a number of media to go with them. The flight was due to leave fours hours later from Manchester Airport.

I wasn't exactly kitted out with the necessary equipment for such an assignment as all my camping stuff was at home in London. However my text colleague David Stringer was making his way to the airport from London with a Bgan (Broadband Global Area Network), a satellite internet connection device, which would enable us to transmit our pictures and copy, and I eventually managed to get us some gear at a camping shop.

We landed at a US military base in northern Japan and along with the rescue teams we were driven to the tsunami affected area so we could co-ordinate with the Japanese emergency services.

We set up camp in a gymnasium that was absolutely freezing. We asked ourselves how anybody trapped in the remains of a building could survive the freezing temperatures at night.

The rescue workers were desperate to find survivors. But after three days of finding nothing but bodies, the decision was made that they would leave Japan as they deemed the chances of finding anyone still alive extremely low.

This was not the end for me though as I was assigned to join AP's team of Japanese staffers. My photographic colleague Shizuo Kambayashi and reporter Foster Klug picked me up and we drove to Kesennuma where a giant vessel had been washed ashore. It was unbelievable seeing the strange places where cars and boats had ended up, coming to rest on some of the concrete buildings that remained on their foundations. It was a way of indicating just how high the tsunami waters rose.

I've purposefully chosen to reflect on this image of Kate looking back rather than the kiss picture, as that was something everyone was expecting to happen, drawing the inevitable comparisons with the kiss Charles and Diana shared on the same balcony 30 years earlier.

I like this frame as it is an unexpected moment where Kate gives the assembled masses a conspiratorial look of happiness and confidence as she turns away with William to walk into her new life as a future queen.

The picture was taken from a tiered platform put up on the Queen Victoria memorial, where 64 positions had been carefully marked up for photographers directly opposite the balcony where the royal couple were expected to share their first public kiss as husband and wife. We were asked to arrive at the memorial at 6am with the royals expected to make their balcony appearance just under seven and a half hours later. One relief was that a toilet had been put in our media enclosure which meant we could take drinks and snacks to last the day.

This picture was shot on a Canon 1D MkIV camera with an 800mm long lens to give a close-up view of the couple, from what I'd guess was the 70-or-so metre distance between us. One problem with taking photographs on such a long lens from a distance like that is having to deal with atmospheric heat haze. This makes the images appear less sharp than if you were standing much closer. The heat haze was also intensified by the crowds that were standing between our elevated platform and the forecourt of Buckingham Palace.

I had also set up three other remotely triggered cameras with different lenses to give a wide, medium and another tight view of the balcony scene. They were all connected with cables so that when I took a picture with the main 800mm camera all the others would fire at the same time, capturing the same moment.

When working for an international news agency on an event with such a global interest the images need to arrive at the picture desks of AP's subscribers as quickly as possible. This was particularly important for countries in different time zones where the timing of the kiss meant that it needed to make their late night printing deadlines.

To make our delivery as timely as possible, AP and the other large news agencies paid to have broadband speed internet lines installed beside our platform. Trying to send pictures using the mobile phone network would have been virtually impossible. When crowds of thousands assemble it tends to overload the nearest mobile phone masts, but by plugging the internet cable into a module attached to my main camera I was able to transmit pictures directly to our office in Camden where a team of editors were waiting to crop, edit and caption before transmitting the pictures to our clients.

I'm pleased to say everything went well with the photography that day, which was a huge relief for me. Text journalists can reflect on things after they have happened but as a news photographer if you miss an historic moment there is no second chance to capture it again, which is why it was very kind of William and Kate to kiss twice that day. We still needed to capture both kisses, and it turned out the second kiss made a better picture as it had the little bridesmaid covering her ears.

In Britain we have a genre of photography that is regularly practiced by news and celebrity photographers alike, the car shot. When waiting for a person in the news agenda sometimes the only way to take a photograph of them is through the window of the vehicle they are travelling in.

Car shots are not the kind of pictures individuals would hang on their walls as they often capture people at a low-point or time of crisis in their lives. In many other countries, photographers are given access to take pictures inside courts, parliaments and committee hearings but in Britain this is not the case.

If people choose to drive away from gated entrances or underground car parks the only visual possibility left by that stage is a car shot for the photographers, and footage of photographers taking the pictures for the broadcasters. Stories need visuals as readers and viewers want to see what's happening.

The two most important technical aspects to get a good result in these situations are the flash settings you need to penetrate the window, and the focus of the lens.

When word came through of the News of the World's closure amidst the phone-hacking scandal, the media descended on the Wapping site to report on it. As a photographer you need to think of everything you can use to illustrate it as effectively as possible. Images of the building, News of the World signs, the multitude of television sat' trucks, television correspondents speaking on live broadcasts, News of the World employees hugging and drinking outside the pub next door and ideally you'd capture the main protagonists, Rebekah Brooks and James Murdoch (Rupert Murdoch was at a conference in the US on that day).

On this day a number of photographers were standing on a street corner with a view of the building's underground car park exit as we suspected Brooks and Murdoch would depart from there. Members of the Sunday tabloid's staff had told us they were still in the building so we had to wait it out. It took a fair while for them to leave and it was getting later into the evening by which time some of our group had left.

James Murdoch was the first to leave and then a little while later Brooks came out. Her departure caught us by surprise as word got out that she had already left and so with British newspaper deadlines approaching we were sitting on the pavement with heads in laptops sending the photos we'd taken of Murdoch. One observant member of our group spotted a vehicle pull out from the car park and shouted to the rest of us, something it's always nice to do for one another.

The focus of my picture is off, it's a muzzy, but that doesn't lessen the fact that her gaze comes from a time of crisis in the history of British newspapers.

I'd been in Norway for three days covering the aftermath of Anders Behring Breivik's attack in Norway. Breivik had set off a bomb in Oslo before heading to the island of Utoeya where he killed at least 68 people at an island youth camp run by the ruling Labour Party.

This campsite jetty across the water from the island had become a place people came to lay floral tributes in memory of the victims. The beautiful scenery and calm sound of the water were so at odds with the horror that took place on the island.

By the time I took this picture AP had flown in four photographers to Oslo so we could spread ourselves around, each one covering different aspects of the story. On this day when Breivik was due to appear in court for the first time, a minute's silence was planned across Norway and thousands of people were expected to attend an Oslo 'Rose March' memorial in the afternoon. Utoeya was an hour or so drive from Oslo where we were all staying. I'd taken our shared hire car down to the mainland area opposite the island and had spent most of the morning using a 500mm lens with a 1.4x converter to watch the police who were still carrying out investigations on the island.

As the time for the silence approached another British photographer Jeff Mitchell and I went down to the jetty to see what would happen for the minute's silence. Various people were gathering at the water's edge, a mixture of campers, relatives and members of the media.

Photographing a solemn scene like this is emotionally tough. We are very aware of how people are feeling and have to find a balance for how close to stand when taking our pictures. How can you do anything else but empathise with their loss, or reflect on how you would feel if one of your loved ones had lost their lives on that island?

The one track and field competitor even non-athletics fans have heard of is Usain Bolt. The men's 100m final is billed as the showpiece of any high-profile athletics meeting, and at the World Athletics Championships in Daegu, South Korea, it was reigning Olympic champion and world-record holder Bolt who was the man the spectators came to see.

Sports are interesting to photograph in the sense that there is always the potential for something unexpected to happen, even with an event that lasts less than 10 seconds.

We covered this race with a team of photographers, all from different parts of the globe, and each taking a different vantage point dotted around the track. The prime photographer position, and number one pressure spot, is sitting head-on to the finish line where you will get the clean picture of the winner crossing the line towards you. My colleague Anja Niedringhaus, who's also a hugely talented and experienced conflict photographer, was doing the job for AP on this occasion.

My job that night was to be at the start, to shoot the competitors coming out the blocks and to keep an eye on Bolt as he likes to showboat for the fans and cameras alike. It was, I felt, the least pressured position to be given and one I was very happy with. My Texan colleague David Phillip, who is a top-notch sports photographer and technical whiz, was waiting on the infield beside the finish line to trigger his set of remote controlled cameras on the line, and then do the celebration lap of honour run-round with the winner.

We'd talked about the fact that the rule change meant that one false start and the athlete is disqualified. However slim, there was always a chance that it could be Bolt in that unfortunate position, and on this occasion that is what happened.

The photo here shows Bolt, disqualified, running vest thrown off in frustration, and gesturing as he watches the race on the stadium's big screen by the start. He later overcame the disappointment to take the gold medal in the 200m race and helped set a new world record for the Jamaican men in the 4x100m relay on the last day of the competition. It's not hard to guess where all eyes will be pointing next summer when the Olympics comes to London, and I hope to be by the start for the 100m again, this time not seeing anyone disqualified.

Britain's Met Office said maximum temperatures were around ten degrees above normal for September and Londoners flocked outdoors to soak up the sun. The swimming ponds on Hampstead Heath are not heated, and though the temperatures were fine to sunbathe in, the water was incredibly cold. I stayed at the pond for a while chatting to different people and becoming part of the landscape so they were comfortable with my being there.

The longer you spend photographing a scene, the more people become immune to a camera pointing at or around them. To begin with people are usually curious as to why you are taking pictures and ask questions, like who you work for, or how much your cameras are worth. Once satisfied they sometimes pose in a snapshot manner asking you take a picture of them, and finally the novelty of being photographed wears off and they go back to acting naturally again.

The best unposed pictures of daily life happen either when people don't notice your camera or because their attention is focused elsewhere, in this case her attention was on the cold water.

Tomorrow Max Houghton, course leader in MA Photojournalism at the University of Westminster and editor of 8 magazine looks at the ethics of photojournalism.

Related posts:

Frank Zappa once said: "Jazz isn't dead - it just smells funny". At the end of 2011 photojournalism is in a similar condition.

In November the picture editor of Community Care called to let me know that the issue that had just gone to press would be the last - future editions will appear online only. The award-winning weekly for care professionals was the fifth of my long-standing magazine clients to close this year. Print is dying, slowly strangled by the move to the web of both advertisers and readers - and publishers are struggling to make the web pay.

Earlier the same month Getty Images, one of the two largest photo agencies in the world (by revenue), announced a cut in payments to its editorial contributors. Photographers supplying the private equity-owned company saw their share of reproduction fees reduced from 50% to 35%.

It is widely assumed that the move was made to enable Getty to maintain profit margins while pursuing an aggressive price-cutting strategy. Pictures that sold for £70 or £100 five or six years ago, now habitually go for £15 or £20. Even 50% of £15 is not very much.

Over the same period, one regular contributor to Alamy I know has seen her annual sales remain roughly steady, but her income fall from £42,000 to £18,000 - a drop in average sale price of almost 60%. Alamy describes itself as "the world's first open, unedited collection of images". It has more than 25 million of them on its servers, and thousands of contributors, including many - amateurs, students and others - who would never have had access to the market in the pre-digital era.

To the agencies it makes little difference whether they sell one picture for £100, or five for £20, but such low fees (and some are even lower) are not sustainable for photographers. The strategy is only possible because many of the smaller agencies, an integral part of the photo market in the days of film, were either bought up by the big players, or folded - unable to handle the very considerable costs of digitisation.

The resulting concentration of ownership, together with the proliferation of imagery from a much wider range of sources, has done serious damage to an income stream that has been a mainstay for many freelancers ever since Robert Capa, Henri Cartier-Bresson, George Roger and David Seymour set up Magnum in 1947.

So with magazines closing, newspapers cutting back to compensate for declining revenues, and income from stock disappearing down the plug hole, things don't look promising. And I haven't even mentioned the global economic crisis. It seems that the business model that has sustained photojournalism for more than 60 years is on its last legs.

But photojournalism has never been easy, despite laments in various quarters for a lost age of plenty. Certainly there was a time when a small elite of high profile photographers travelled the globe, expenses paid and publication guaranteed. An elite still exists, although now very much smaller, but everyone else, myself included, has always had to scrabble around, picking up a patchwork of non-governmental organization (NGO) commissions to pay for a foreign trip, or mixing more commercial assignments with self-financed personal work sold after completion, either as a whole story or as single pictures.

Reasons to be cheerful? Images are everywhere. The technology that has brought us the gargantuan agencies, each with many millions of ever-cheaper images accessible at the touch of a button, has also brought us an astonishing array of new outlets for still and moving images. Some of them - this blog, for instance - even pay!

We are in a period of transition. Although too much web content generates no income for its creators, new revenue streams are gradually establishing themselves. Some sites already bring in real money from advertising, or paywall subscriptions. News websites are beginning to commission or buy in photo stories in the form of multimedia pieces (still images and sound), or web documentaries (video, stills and sound, sometimes with interactive features). Some of the bigger NGOs are doing the same.

I've found the last couple of years the most difficult since I started out - but not fatal. Can the new opportunities replace the fading print market and collapsing library sales? Probably not for everyone. However, many of the old rules still apply. Quality and originality still have value. Niche specialisms are always in demand. Surviving as a freelance in the digital age requires new skills and an openness to new markets, but it is possible - and at least the scrabbling around should feel familiar. One other thing jazz and photojournalism have in common: if you want to get rich quick, try banking.

Philip Wolmuth has worked as a freelance photographer for 30 years, with a primary interest in documenting the impact of social, economic and political forces on individuals and communities. His pictures have appeared widely in newspapers, magazines, trade union journals, books, and public and voluntary sector publications.

He distributes his work through the Reportdigital social issues photo library, and his own archive at www.philipwolmuth.com .

Tomorrow AP photographer Matt Dunham looks back on his best shots of 2011.

Related posts:

Leon is currently a staff photographer for Agence France-Presse (AFP) having worked as a freelance for a number of years following completion of the NCTJ Photojournalism course, and a scholarship at The Times newspaper in London.