Acclaimed photographers from around the world share a single image reflecting on their experience of the corona virus outbreak.

1. Through my lockdown lens: 11 leading photographers
capture their confinement
Killian Fox, Tim Lewis and Lisa O'Kelly
Acclaimed photographers from around the world share a single image reflecting on their experience of the
coronavirus outbreak
Sun 10 May 2020 07.00 BST
Alec Soth
Minneapolis, Minnesota

2. A leading chronicler of contemporary American life, Magnum photographer Alec Soth is renowned for his
images of disconnected communities in the US. Born and based in Minneapolis, he has published more than 25
books and received a Gu enheim fellowship in 2013
Last year, I began a correspondence with a man who has been in prison since 2003. His letters have taken on
new meaning in the wake of the pandemic and the “stay at home” orders. While I would never compare
these constraints to incarceration, his words are nonetheless helpful. “It all boils down to limits,” he
recently wrote. “Whether enforced by nature – biologic or social, tangible or abstractions – we all confront
the parameters of our cage eventually. What we do when we reach those bars helps define us.”
As a photographer I’m really struggling to respond to the pandemic, because I’m not a crisis-response type
photographer. I’ve done little photographic experiments, and they’ve been OK. But by far the most
meaningful thing that’s happened to me is this letter exchange. In terms of the image itself, I just took a
picture of the letter with my iPhone, using the screen on my bedroom window to make the writing illegible,
though a few words pop out here and there. I really do find it interesting to reflect on the constraints of
prison, which are a million times worse than what I’m going through, and all the psychological weight of
incarceration that you can’t even imagine.
I feel like I’m rattling my cage at the moment, but it’s so not a cage. I’m in a city but it’s very spread out. I
have a studio, which I have no problem getting to. I’m biking a lot – thank God it’s spring because Minnesota
is the coldest part of the US and winters here are brutal. It’s a distressing time, but really my life is not so
very different at all. KF
Vanessa Winship
Folkestone, Kent
Photograph: Alec Soth/Magnum Photos

3. Lincolnshire-born Vanessa Winship explores concepts of borders, identity and memory in her work, which was
the subject of a major exhibition at the Barbican in 2018
Before lockdown a friend sent me a link to a recipe for making vegan honey. All you need is fresh dandelion
flowers, sugar, a lemon and water. She suggested that perhaps it was something I could do with my
granddaughter, Bella, because she knows we like making things together and doing things outside. Bella is
six. In normal times we see each other quite a lot but because we’re trying to obey the lockdown rules I
haven’t seen her for many weeks.
Dandelions started to appear opposite my house and along the path where I take my daily walk, so even
though I knew I wasn’t going to be making the honey with her, I picked them and I’m planning to follow the
recipe. I’m not vegan and neither is she but that is irrelevant, really – I just know it is something she would
have loved to do.
It was a coincidence that the cloth on our kitchen table the day I gathered the dandelions happened to have
a pattern on it that looks like a beehive. But coincidence is a fantastic thing and I like it when it comes into
my work.
I’ve been talking to Bella on Zoom and WhatsApp and because she is a child of the digital age she is very
comfortable with that but I can’t go outside with her and pick dandelions so the act of doing that by myself
felt like a lovely link with her. What’s really nice as well is that dandelions represent the sun and, in fact,
yellow is her favourite colour. I also like the idea that after dandelions are dandelions they become clocks
that we blow as a game, counting down the days to the end of our confinement. LO’K
Nadav Kander
London
Dandelion honey. Photograph: Vanessa Winship

4. Winner of the outstanding contribution to photography prize at the 2019 Sony world photography awards,
Nadav Kander is an acclaimed landscape and portrait photographer
At the beginning of lockdown, my kneejerk reaction was to come to my studio, set things up and
immediately start working. I realised quite quickly that this was an internal pressure I was putting on
myself, it wasn’t organic or authentic. I needed more time to process what I was feeling. I knew it was
around solitude and touch but I wanted just to spend some weeks digesting it and then see how it comes
out in my work rather than pushing.
Part of that process was to bring a camera home and start looking more carefully at my house, turning my
eyes on, in a way, and looking more deeply at my surroundings. I started taking pictures inside the house
and spent a lot of time looking out of various windows at the plain blue sky without any streaks. One day
we had this rainbow and I happened to notice it through the blind.
I find it quite a gentle, poignant image. I like the way the blind drawn between inside and outside asks
questions rather than answers them. The clear view would have been less ambiguous, I guess. This is veiled
– I think that makes it more alluring.
When lockdown was announced all my projects and the work I had just absolutely evaporated. But in many
ways this period has been amazing, not frustrating. There are six of us at home – I have four children aged
from 24 to 20 – and I feel very privileged to spend this time with them. I’m actually in my element. I like
everything being slower and having time to think and look. I feel more sorry for my children than myself: I
think they are bursting to get out and hug people, see people and socialise. LO’K
Eamonn Doyle
Dublin
From Inside 22.04.2020. Photograph: © Nadav Kander Courtesy Flowers
Gallery