Northern Alliance soldier, Bagram, Afghanistan, 1998

Whenever I travelled to Afghanistan I was always looking to tell the human stories of Afghans and how they cope with life under constant war. When I was covering the civil war between the Northern Alliance and the Taliban in late 1998, I came across this soldier along a front line near Bagram airfield, just north of the capital Kabul. When I saw his prosthetic arms I was compelled to make a rare (for me) set-up portrait. He then told me his story:

I was not a soldier before; I used to work for an international NGO de-mining company trying to rid the country of landmines. One day I was de-mining when one blew off my arms – a mine that had been planted by the Taliban. It was then that I decided to join up with the Northern Alliance and learned to shoot an AK-47 with my new arms so I could take revenge.

Old Woman, Havana, Cuba, 2015

For me photography has always been about having fun and there’s no better enjoyment then street photography. I have been going to Havana for many years now and it was and still is one of the best places in the world for street photography. The old-world charm of Cuba oozes through every crack and along every street corner. Also in public view are most people’s interiors. When you’re walking along the street you’re watching out for any moment outdoors but you are also drawn into the more private spaces as well. I saw this woman sitting just as she was from the street looking in. I stopped in my tracks and thought, should I? I walked to the door and through my very broken Spanish I asked if I could take her photograph. She said yes. The lighting was perfect, the setting incredible, everything was there for the taking. You don’t take photographs, you’re given them. Photography is a gift.

The Skeleton People, Mt Hagen, Papua New Guinea, 2004

Aside from Afghanistan, Papua New Guinea is the one country I have travelled in and photographed most. I had been inspired to go by the films by friend and colleague Bob Connolly and late-night stories from Mark Worth who sadly passed away some years ago. This photograph was taken on my first trip to PNG at an annual cultural festival in the Western Highlands capital Mount Hagen. I paid some locals to build me a makeshift grass hut studio and I invited sitters to be photographed.

Psychiatric hospital, Srinagar, Kashmir, India, 2002

I was in Srinagar working on a story around war trauma. Kashmir is one of the world’s longest-running conflicts that dates back to the British partition of India and Pakistan. I wanted to look at the consequences of human suffering from the Indian side of Kashmir. I’d already been to the Pakistan side a year earlier. I covered the weekly protests, mainly young Muslim youths against Indian soldiers. Very similar to what I’d witnessed on many occasions in Israel and Palestine, a kind of David v Goliath scenario. I received a minor injury when an Indian soldier shot a stun grenade directly at me and it hit the top of my foot. I photographed them dragging off protestors into trucks. At some point I found myself inside the main psychiatric hospital. I had a really good fixer who got me in and I worked frantically knowing that my access was unique and that I would be tossed out or worse at any time. It was visually strong and many of the patients were in there because of the effects of war.

US marine patrol, Asadabad, Afghanistan, 2005

For me a good war photograph must be an anti-war photograph. War is a nasty business and traumatises both the killers and the victims. While embedded with the US marines in Kunar province in 2005 I was out on a routine patrol with them as they searched for insurgents or weapons caches. I noticed that the marine in front of me stopped at the corner of a mud wall, trigger ready. As I framed my picture I could see an incredibly intense gaze from a young boy with other gazes and interesting compositions spilling the frame. For me this young boy summed up an entire nation’s feeling towards a foreign occupation. War also makes the youth fearless.

Tim Page, Sydney, 2014

Lately I have been digging through my archive looking for broken frames. These are photographs that have been unintentionally messed up, double exposed, light or emulsion leakage and x-ray damaged. This portrait I took of Tim Page is a personal favourite. Tim is a very close friend and I grew up wanting to be a photographer through his words and photographs. He was one of the inspirations for me to cover war. Tim is most famous for his coverage of the Vietnam war and I feel quite blessed not to just know the man but be invited right now to collaborate with him on a kind of retrospective book of his Nam pictures and contact sheets.

Ahmed Shah Masood, Afghanistan, 1998

I was on assignment for the French magazine Le Figaro covering a profile story about the legendary Afghan warlord Ahmed Shah Masood. Masood’s Northern Alliance were in control of only 10% of Afghanistan; the Taliban controlled the rest. I was given such close access to him that I could candidly be with him and photograph pretty much everything he did. He had a mesmerising and powerful presence when you were in his company, which made photographing him really exciting. I am looking for the unguarded moment, the right light, composition and the moment. It all came together in an orchard outside the town of Faizabad in the north. Masood and his friends had just finished prayers at sundown when something caught his gaze skyward. Later I asked Masood’s assistant why I was given such incredible access and he said that Masood told him that he liked me because I never asked him to pose or got in his way. For me this was the ultimate compliment.

The Bad Seeds, Sydney, 2009

In 2009 I had the fortune to be an artist in residence with the Sydney festival. A festival highlight was one of my all-time favourite bands Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds who would play Cockatoo Island. As I had an all-access pass, I found Nick Cave and Warren Ellis backstage before one of their gigs. I asked if I could take some portraits and Nick and Warren posed in a back room. After not even finishing a roll of 12 frames, Nick said “I think you got the shot” and they walked away. Happily I did get the shot, thank you Nick, you were right.

Dili burns, East Timor, 1999

I was covering the chaos and aftermath from the 1999 East Timorese referendum for independence. Pro-Indonesian militia were roaming streets killing people, soldiers were looting and burning down buildings as they prepared to depart by ships. I was among the first wave of journalists to arrive as the international community sent in foreign forces to bring stability and peace to the world’s newest nation. I flew in with the British on C130 Hercules and was met with total chaos throughout the city. Most folks had fled the city before we arrived and were still hiding in the nearby jungles. But slowly they returned as more and more foreign soldiers arrived, many from Australia. I took this photograph as a man was pushing a cart with a child inside of it and passed a former Indonesian military barracks that was on fire. I liked the caged symbolism of the child against the inferno-esque backdrop. I remember thinking it reminded me of scenes I had often seen from photographs taken in Cambodia during the genocide there.

Ceausescu’s Palace, Bucharest, Romania, 2001

I can never forget this photograph because soon after I took the frame I was mugged. I was in Bucharest shooting a story around stray dogs (there were 300,000 in the city alone). Whenever I go to a new city I like to walk around and get a feel for the place and shoot street pictures. It was mid winter, snowing with that eastern European grey tinge to the place, when suddenly I was cornered by four men in trenchcoats. I had my Leica around my neck and my Hasselblad Xpan over my shoulder, maybe even a Rolleiflex as well. They asked for my wallet, took out all my cash and handed it back to me before moving on. All I could think about at that moment was what I was prepared to do if they went for my cameras. It was not even so much the cameras but the unexposed rolls of film I had inside them that I would have done pretty much any crazy thing to keep. I knew I had some great pictures and that is all my mind was focused on. I practically threw my wallet at them.