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Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Recently I spent some time with the Benedictine nuns of Tyburn, a mostly silent convent next to Marble Arch in central London. The nuns are always praying, 24 hours a day. They take it in shifts, and can’t leave except to vote or for medical appointments. Day and night, they pray for the souls of the city and beyond, sequestered away from and ignorant to the constant commercial motion around them and the hyperactive processes of development and real estate speculation just past their doorstep.

By the entrance to the convent, ‘there’s a corkboard with little handwritten notes stuck to it. These are the prayers of Londoners — Londoners they will likely never meet. People drop them off at the door and the nuns pin them up to remind themselves of what and who to pray for. Some notes ask for safe passage through surgery, others through depression; one thanks Tyburn for a husband’s successful jigsaw puzzle business.’

Great write-up by @miles.ellingham for @thelondonernewspaper

Some of my work from London over the past few years appears alongside this piece by @billiemuraben in the latest issue of @tankmagazine

Billie’s article addresses the way housing has become increasingly commodified through the idea of ‘lifestyle’ since the mid-70s, beginning with Thatcher’s selling off of the council housing stock to mid 2000’s property TV shows and today’s constant barrage of ‘housing as identity’, by way of lifestyle agents like The Modern House and the fetishisation of the Brutalist aesthetic, whilst totally evacuating it of its motivating political values.

Thank you also to @otomilarcher and @_nell_whittaker_

Some of my work from London over the past few years appears alongside this piece by @billiemuraben in the latest issue of @tankmagazine

Billie’s article addresses the way housing has become increasingly commodified through the idea of ‘lifestyle’ since the mid-70s, beginning with Thatcher’s selling off of the council housing stock to mid 2000’s property TV shows and today’s constant barrage of ‘housing as identity’, by way of lifestyle agents like The Modern House and the fetishisation of the Brutalist aesthetic, whilst totally evacuating it of its motivating political values.

Thank you also to @otomilarcher and @_nell_whittaker_

Some of my work from London over the past few years appears alongside this piece by @billiemuraben in the latest issue of @tankmagazine

Billie’s article addresses the way housing has become increasingly commodified through the idea of ‘lifestyle’ since the mid-70s, beginning with Thatcher’s selling off of the council housing stock to mid 2000’s property TV shows and today’s constant barrage of ‘housing as identity’, by way of lifestyle agents like The Modern House and the fetishisation of the Brutalist aesthetic, whilst totally evacuating it of its motivating political values.

Thank you also to @otomilarcher and @_nell_whittaker_

Some of my work from London over the past few years appears alongside this piece by @billiemuraben in the latest issue of @tankmagazine

Billie’s article addresses the way housing has become increasingly commodified through the idea of ‘lifestyle’ since the mid-70s, beginning with Thatcher’s selling off of the council housing stock to mid 2000’s property TV shows and today’s constant barrage of ‘housing as identity’, by way of lifestyle agents like The Modern House and the fetishisation of the Brutalist aesthetic, whilst totally evacuating it of its motivating political values.

Thank you also to @otomilarcher and @_nell_whittaker_

Some of my work from London over the past few years appears alongside this piece by @billiemuraben in the latest issue of @tankmagazine

Billie’s article addresses the way housing has become increasingly commodified through the idea of ‘lifestyle’ since the mid-70s, beginning with Thatcher’s selling off of the council housing stock to mid 2000’s property TV shows and today’s constant barrage of ‘housing as identity’, by way of lifestyle agents like The Modern House and the fetishisation of the Brutalist aesthetic, whilst totally evacuating it of its motivating political values.

Thank you also to @otomilarcher and @_nell_whittaker_

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

I went to Felixstowe a few weeks ago to photograph this story for the new issue of @theeconomist on how Britain has become a leading exporter of stolen goods. On the day we visited the port, Adam Gibson, the port’s lone police officer, opened up a shipping container to reveal a Porsche Carrera 911 that had been rented in Germany two weeks before: somehow it had found its way to a container in Britain, bound for Africa.

“For centuries criminals have nicked valuable products and smuggled them across borders, beyond the reach of the law. Britain today shows how this model has evolved in new and alarming ways. Encrypted communications have enabled criminal gangs to operate and co-operate more freely than ever before, and establish global supply chains. As countries in Africa and Asia have become richer, demand for the products common on the streets of the rich world is growing. This combination has spawned a flourishing criminal enterprise. Call it Grand Theft Global Inc.“

Story by Tom Sasse

Pio in his studio, Woolwich.

March, 2026

@pioabad

Pio in his studio, Woolwich.

March, 2026

@pioabad

Ten pictures from Holloway on Saturday, 1 March 2025, following the killing of Fredi Rivero one day previous.

In the basement of a quiet city-boy bar in the square mile, I photographed a group of dads in studious absorption at a table covered in mannequins and buckets of Lucky Saint beer, as they diligently learnt the correct way to tie a high ponytail for their daughters. The event, named Pints and Ponytails and organised by two co-hosts of a popular podcast about fatherhood, aimed at equipping the fathers attending with the hair styling knowhow that has traditionally fallen to the women in the family.

Seb Brantigan travelled two hours from Suffolk to be there. ‘At the moment I only do (my daughter’s) hair if there’s no other option. She used to only want her mum for everything, but now she’s nearly three and letting me do more and more. Life with her already feels like it’s going so quickly, and I can see (that doing her hair is) another way of spending time with her’. Though most of the fathers here are in the first years of parenthood, there are also those like David Lee, who has been in deep concentration all night. His daughter is 21. ‘I’ve only brushed her hair a few times in her life, I missed out on this’, he says with a shy smile. ‘I want to surprise her with my new skills when she comes home from college’.

Photographed for @financialtimesfashion @ft_weekend for a story by Jessica Salter

In the basement of a quiet city-boy bar in the square mile, I photographed a group of dads in studious absorption at a table covered in mannequins and buckets of Lucky Saint beer, as they diligently learnt the correct way to tie a high ponytail for their daughters. The event, named Pints and Ponytails and organised by two co-hosts of a popular podcast about fatherhood, aimed at equipping the fathers attending with the hair styling knowhow that has traditionally fallen to the women in the family.

Seb Brantigan travelled two hours from Suffolk to be there. ‘At the moment I only do (my daughter’s) hair if there’s no other option. She used to only want her mum for everything, but now she’s nearly three and letting me do more and more. Life with her already feels like it’s going so quickly, and I can see (that doing her hair is) another way of spending time with her’. Though most of the fathers here are in the first years of parenthood, there are also those like David Lee, who has been in deep concentration all night. His daughter is 21. ‘I’ve only brushed her hair a few times in her life, I missed out on this’, he says with a shy smile. ‘I want to surprise her with my new skills when she comes home from college’.

Photographed for @financialtimesfashion @ft_weekend for a story by Jessica Salter

In the basement of a quiet city-boy bar in the square mile, I photographed a group of dads in studious absorption at a table covered in mannequins and buckets of Lucky Saint beer, as they diligently learnt the correct way to tie a high ponytail for their daughters. The event, named Pints and Ponytails and organised by two co-hosts of a popular podcast about fatherhood, aimed at equipping the fathers attending with the hair styling knowhow that has traditionally fallen to the women in the family.

Seb Brantigan travelled two hours from Suffolk to be there. ‘At the moment I only do (my daughter’s) hair if there’s no other option. She used to only want her mum for everything, but now she’s nearly three and letting me do more and more. Life with her already feels like it’s going so quickly, and I can see (that doing her hair is) another way of spending time with her’. Though most of the fathers here are in the first years of parenthood, there are also those like David Lee, who has been in deep concentration all night. His daughter is 21. ‘I’ve only brushed her hair a few times in her life, I missed out on this’, he says with a shy smile. ‘I want to surprise her with my new skills when she comes home from college’.

Photographed for @financialtimesfashion @ft_weekend for a story by Jessica Salter

In the basement of a quiet city-boy bar in the square mile, I photographed a group of dads in studious absorption at a table covered in mannequins and buckets of Lucky Saint beer, as they diligently learnt the correct way to tie a high ponytail for their daughters. The event, named Pints and Ponytails and organised by two co-hosts of a popular podcast about fatherhood, aimed at equipping the fathers attending with the hair styling knowhow that has traditionally fallen to the women in the family.

Seb Brantigan travelled two hours from Suffolk to be there. ‘At the moment I only do (my daughter’s) hair if there’s no other option. She used to only want her mum for everything, but now she’s nearly three and letting me do more and more. Life with her already feels like it’s going so quickly, and I can see (that doing her hair is) another way of spending time with her’. Though most of the fathers here are in the first years of parenthood, there are also those like David Lee, who has been in deep concentration all night. His daughter is 21. ‘I’ve only brushed her hair a few times in her life, I missed out on this’, he says with a shy smile. ‘I want to surprise her with my new skills when she comes home from college’.

Photographed for @financialtimesfashion @ft_weekend for a story by Jessica Salter

In the basement of a quiet city-boy bar in the square mile, I photographed a group of dads in studious absorption at a table covered in mannequins and buckets of Lucky Saint beer, as they diligently learnt the correct way to tie a high ponytail for their daughters. The event, named Pints and Ponytails and organised by two co-hosts of a popular podcast about fatherhood, aimed at equipping the fathers attending with the hair styling knowhow that has traditionally fallen to the women in the family.

Seb Brantigan travelled two hours from Suffolk to be there. ‘At the moment I only do (my daughter’s) hair if there’s no other option. She used to only want her mum for everything, but now she’s nearly three and letting me do more and more. Life with her already feels like it’s going so quickly, and I can see (that doing her hair is) another way of spending time with her’. Though most of the fathers here are in the first years of parenthood, there are also those like David Lee, who has been in deep concentration all night. His daughter is 21. ‘I’ve only brushed her hair a few times in her life, I missed out on this’, he says with a shy smile. ‘I want to surprise her with my new skills when she comes home from college’.

Photographed for @financialtimesfashion @ft_weekend for a story by Jessica Salter

In the basement of a quiet city-boy bar in the square mile, I photographed a group of dads in studious absorption at a table covered in mannequins and buckets of Lucky Saint beer, as they diligently learnt the correct way to tie a high ponytail for their daughters. The event, named Pints and Ponytails and organised by two co-hosts of a popular podcast about fatherhood, aimed at equipping the fathers attending with the hair styling knowhow that has traditionally fallen to the women in the family.

Seb Brantigan travelled two hours from Suffolk to be there. ‘At the moment I only do (my daughter’s) hair if there’s no other option. She used to only want her mum for everything, but now she’s nearly three and letting me do more and more. Life with her already feels like it’s going so quickly, and I can see (that doing her hair is) another way of spending time with her’. Though most of the fathers here are in the first years of parenthood, there are also those like David Lee, who has been in deep concentration all night. His daughter is 21. ‘I’ve only brushed her hair a few times in her life, I missed out on this’, he says with a shy smile. ‘I want to surprise her with my new skills when she comes home from college’.

Photographed for @financialtimesfashion @ft_weekend for a story by Jessica Salter

Research Professor at the University of Houston and podcaster Brené Brown, photographed in Covent Garden a few weeks ago for today’s @financialtimes

Three in May, 2023

Deptford, Edmonton

Three in May, 2023

Deptford, Edmonton

Three in May, 2023

Deptford, Edmonton

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

More Crufts, for @birminghamdispatch

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

Bill & Ann ♥️🤍

An excerpt from the latest issue of our fanzine Poison Lasagna.

You can read the full piece by buying a paper copy on eighteen86.com

Photos by @harrymitchell

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I spent a couple of days at Crufts with writer @fonie.mitsopoulou for the @birminghamdispatch last weekend, will split into a couple of posts…here’s a few frames I liked

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.

I photographed Sophie de Stempel, an artist and former muse of Lucian Freud’s, at home for @sothebys

Could have listened to Sophie tell stories for a long time. Tales of meeting one of Lucian’s daughters at a roller disco in Hammersmith which led to modelling for him, drinking at the Colony Room in Soho in the 80s to living next door to Janie Jones (who The Clash named a song after in 1977), while Auerbach and Kossoff prints hung above our heads.