Gimme shelter
Despite life-changing injuries, Giles Duley’s passion for photography is as strong as ever. He talks to Geoff Harris about his book on the refugee crisis
Conflict and press photographers often talk about the risks and emotional toll of their chosen profession, but Giles Duley paid a very painful price for being in the wrong place at the wrong time – he lost both legs and an arm after stepping on an improvised explosive device (IED) in Afghanistan. Despite having to deal with life-changing injuries, abandoning photography was never an option for this West Country-born photographer, which is a humbling testament to his determination and grit. Giles’ latest book, I Can Only Tell You What My Eyes See, is a powerful document of the refugee crisis from 2015 onwards, and has just been published by Saqi Books. AP caught up with him for a long-overdue chat.
‘I originally wanted to become a photographer after discovering the work of Don McCullin when I was a teenager,’ Giles explains, by way of background. ‘I’d never thought about photography before. When I was 18 or 19 I was photographing bands and I sort of stumbled into that world, but I guess this love of documentary photography had always been in the back of my mind. By the time I was 30, I’d grown very cynical with the editorial work I was doing for big glossy magazines, however, as it was more about celebrity culture than taking great portraits. I took a few years off from photography, but then decided it was what I needed to do. I wanted to focus on more “serious” work, however.’
This led Giles to work with NGOs such as Save the Children, Médecins Sans Frontières and the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR). In 2011, while documenting the civilian impact of the war in Afghanistan, Giles sadly was to become ‘the story’ after stepping on the IED. ‘By then, I’d been doing documentary work for nearly a decade, but it was only fairly recently that I felt I found my voice. So I was really annoyed and frustrated to get injured. But I never questioned that I would go back to taking photographs… Photography is a state of mind, and it comes from inside you.’
Giles recounts that when he was flown back to hospital in the UK, it was touch and go. His family wasn’t
sure whether he would make it, but his first words to them were, ‘I’m a photographer.’
‘What makes a photographer to me is the way that they think and the way they connect with their heart,’ he insists.
Learning to adapt
Becoming a photographer again took effort and patience, but Giles eschewed any adapted cameras or equipment. ‘I do everything one handed as I still have my left arm. It can be tough, but I find a way. My big rule after being injured was that I would learn how to adapt to things. With these injuries, I knew I would have to be harder and tougher than everyone else to cope with places like South Sudan.’
Giles prefers to work on long-term projects rather than short-term commissions. The commission for this latest book came about as the UNCHR was already familiar with his long-term project, called the Legacy of War. ‘As the refugee crisis reached its peak around 2015, they contacted me again, so we decided to collaborate,’ he explains. ‘ They gave me the freedom to travel where I wanted to, to take pictures and get the stories told.’
Giles saw many harrowing scenes of refugees in extremis during his travels, but found the beaches on the Greek islands of Lesbos particularly traumatic. ‘ There was something about the sheer scale of it – 5,000 people a day landing on a couple of beaches. People
had lost everything and were hysterical after the perilous journeys. Beyond the rights and wrongs of the situation, the simple fact is that these were people like you and me who found themselves in desperate situations. It was overwhelming and the emotion overcame me.’
Rather than just being a passive observer to all this misery, Giles also helped out as best he could. ‘ There was little medical support, so I’d be handing out thermal blankets and I was asked a few times if we could put hypothermic babies in the car and turn the heating up. It was desperate. I don’t believe in this ideal of objectivity in photography. I am there to document, but if there is something I can do to save a life or help somebody, I will do it. I will only take a photo when I know there is nothing else I could be doing to help people.’
Giles is justifiably proud of the book and feels the closest connection to the images of Aya, a child with spina bifida who fled from Syria to Lebanon, and Khouloud, a Syrian woman who was paralysed by a sniper’s bullet. She is cared for by her devoted husband. ‘I dedicated the book to Aya and Khouloud, as they were the first major stories I covered after my injuries, and I feel they gave me back my life as a photographer. With Khouloud, I said I didn’t photograph the refugee or a disabled woman but a couple who were deeply in love with each other. I see myself as a photographer of love and relationships. These people are in terrible circumstances, but it’s about the intimacies, that love that families share – that is something we can all relate to. That is where I want to be as a photographer.’
Giles doesn’t talk about it much, but taking photographs hurts. ‘It is tough physically and working is like running a marathon. At the end of the day, I can hardly walk and there is blood and bruises, but I feel privileged to do what I do, particularly as photography was almost taken away from me. If anything, the pain drives me on more, as I feel I am literally walking in the footsteps of the people I photograph.’