Documentation of NHS workers on the entrance traces of the pandemic
From the daily death toll to data visualization, statistics have been at the center of our evolving understanding of the coronavirus over the past year. One of the most shocking numbers in recent times is that NHS workers suffered more casualties in the first six months of the pandemic than the British armed forces during the Twelve Years 'War in Afghanistan and the Six Years' War in Iraq combined.
Unsurprisingly, bellicose rhetoric is becoming increasingly common in reports on the fight against the pandemic. Hospitals are often referred to as the “battlefields” and health workers as the “front”. Last year, photographer Slater King experienced firsthand the reality of NHS staff when he was given access to Whittington Hospital in north London during the UK's first national lockdown. The result is a powerful series of portraits that tell the stories of the people behind the PPE.
As the book project reinvigorates and all royalties are donated to Whittington Hospital's Charity Fund, King CR shares what he has learned about putting yourself at risk as a photographer and the importance of capturing those moments in history.
Above: Champa Jetha; above: Ryan McGivern. All photos © Slater King
Creative Review: Why did you decide to start the photo project and have you shot in an environment like a hospital before?
Slater King: I noticed that hardly anything comes out of hospitals in the UK, so I made it my business to get in and find out what it was like for the people who worked there. I really wanted to make a record – while there was still a chance – who was there, how it was for them, and how it made them feel.
I've photographed some weird and wonderful places like nuclear power plants, boardrooms, prisons, and the occasional riot, but that was very different because there was an overwhelming and constant tension in the air. It was like everyone in the hospital was walking on thin ice, not knowing if it was going to break any moment.
Mihir Sanghvi
CR: How did it feel to come to Whittington on the first day? Were you concerned about putting yourself at risk?
SK: I was very nervous when I first went to the hospital. This was during the (initial) lockdown so it was surreal just to get there and navigate the empty streets. Then, because there were no visitors and very few people in the corridors and common areas, everything felt scary and almost deserted.
Since there weren't any tests at this point and people weren't entirely sure how easily – or even how – it spread, I felt a tremendous need to fix everything. I remember thinking that if I die without getting the shot, I'll be so mad! This thought helped me a lot because I was able to turn away from the obvious thoughts of whether I should be in a small room with a Covid-positive patient to shoot an unpaid project of uncertain value just because it seemed morally right to me as a photographer to do.
Danya Chandrakumar
CR: How did you understand what was going on around you?
SK: It was an unusual shoot because there was no customer. The hospital had given me a free hand in where to go, who to talk to, and how long I was there. I chose two major navigation points: everything would be tailored for each person and everything would be illuminated. When I think back it seems pretty ridiculous in terms of ambition, but I'm a fan of hard work! The effects were evident and visible as me and my assistant tried to get through a series of doors – with all of the bags, carts, suitcases, and equipment we hauled, it was a mission in itself, only from one location go to the other!
Since we were not supervised, I had to reach out to people who normally did not know that we were at an incredibly stressful and painful time for them and ask them about the life and death situations that surround them, their patients, and their patients and involve families. As hard as it was, I had to do it that way because the core of the project was to capture that incredible moment and what it was like for those who were there and were the focus.
Joy Jackson
CR: Why was it important for you to include individual stories alongside the portraits?
SK: Talking to people was important to me because the picture does something that the words cannot, and vice versa. When I saw the images and texts intertwined and worked together, I was convinced that the story needed both parts. For example, when you read Joy's description of "People who just die, die, die in my ward," you can also see them, their location, their behavior, and some of the person they are, giving you a much broader understanding Get an assessment of what she is facing and how it was for her.
Another example would be Lizzie (a physical therapist) who was seconded to the ITU. Your portrait shows a kind and sensitive person, so you can see the impact of the situation on them much better if they say, “I could still hear all the beeps and alarms in my ears when I got home. I would sit in a dark, quiet room and hear all the alarms in my head. "
Tola Badejo
CR: You mentioned that NHS workers suffered more casualties in the first six months of the pandemic than the British Army in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. Did you feel like you were on a front line?
SK: Some of the people I photographed told me it was like on a front. Cleveland, for example, said it was like "being at the top of a war". But then other people began to see the war analogy as unsettling. Renate said she was bothered by the "war rhetoric". She said to me, "We are not volunteers who have signed up to march into battle, but people who have been trained and who do a job that we are paid for and enjoy doing."
I took photos of the British Army during combat simulations, which because I was covering the medical teams, it was all pretty realistic and gnarled, but it seemed dissimilar to what I saw in the hospital because the former was so percussive and the latter was so narrow and underground. Although I think these two situations certainly share an incredible amount of danger and uncertainty. It's hard to overstate what some of these people have been through.
Thomas Kostakos
CR: The images feel particularly relevant given the second wave and the new strain in the UK. How did you deal with the experience looking back on the series?
SK: I've been in contact with a lot of people in the book since the New Year and they're back to where they were in the horrific times of the first wave. I felt obliged to go back in, to be with them, and that's why I reached out to the hospital, but they have pushed too far to have someone who is not medical. They were concerned that just having someone in the same room might be too much for some staff and I hate to say it, but I'm a bit relieved that I won't be returning for the time being.
It was probably the toughest shoot I've ever done for many reasons and I'm so proud of the book and the way the project affected the hospital and the staff. The texts I have created are used by the psychology department to talk to staff about their wellbeing. Huge posters with text and pictures of people are lined up in the hospital's corridors and the stories have been a starting point for organizations like the Royal College of Nursing so that the voices of the NHS frontline staff can be heard.
I look back gratefully on the experience; What at first was just a desire to see our industry, the creatives of this world, who play an important role in recording these times, has grown into something that touched so many people. I am very grateful for that.
Cleveland Shaw
For more information on Whittington Hospital in the Covid era, visit slater.photo