Falling in Love with Photobooks
I first started collecting photo and art books when I was about 12. Back then, I was obsessed with Banksy and graffiti books the stories of writers hitting the London Underground at night, especially the DDS crew. I was glued to Frontline Magazine, and when I stumbled across a book called Style Wars at Oner Signs in Cardiff, it changed the way I looked at photography forever.
Style Wars told the story of hip-hop culture in New York City in the late ’70s and early ’80s, focusing on graffiti and breakdancing. What fascinated me was the photographers’ technique how they captured entire subway carriages to show the full paintings sprayed overnight. I even tried watching the film version, but it was chopped into awful YouTube clips don’t get me started on those early YouTube days. The book, though, gave me a real insight into documentary photography: the importance of following, supporting, and documenting art happening around us whether in a gallery, a book, or on a brick wall
Learning the Craft
From there, I started to read more about understanding photographs. Susan Sontag’s On Photography, John Berger’s Understanding a Photograph, Martin Parr’s The Cost of Living, and David Hurn’s Land of My Father shaped the way I thought about images. As I got older, I discovered Todd Hido and began collecting his books.
I was fortunate enough to study in the world famous documentary photography that was set up by David Hurn in 1973. That course taught me so much not just about seeing and shooting, but also about the importance of context. They’d give you reading lists, and the tutors would recommend books to study. That was a game changer. You learned to see the world differently, to understand storytelling, to pay attention to detail. Books weren’t just inspiration they were tools.
Mentorship from the Masters
Meeting David Hurn was unforgettable. Visiting his cottage for tea and chats, I saw shelves stacked with photo books, his own work, collections from others, gifts from photographers around the world. He always stressed the same lesson: to be a better photographer, you need photobooks.One conversation stuck with me. He asked,
“Ieuan, if I set you an assignment to photograph someone’s cat, what would you do first?”
I thought, “Make sure my SD card is empty.”
David - “No.”
Me - “Pack my camera bag?”
David - “No. Come on, Ieuan.”
I started thinking harder. “Take cat food to get the cat to look at the camera?”
David “No. What you do is go find all the photobooks on cats. You look at them, study the photographers’ approaches and styles.”
Lightbulb moment. Everything clicked. Back in Hurn’s day, there was no Instagram. You either went to a gallery or a book. Seeing photographs on a screen isn’t the same a photo was never intended to be viewed on a tiny, scrolling digital screen. Photobooks are curated with passion. Years of work, thousands of images, whittled down to the few that matter.
“Photographers should actively look for ideas, attitudes, images, and influences from the very best photographers of all ages. You cannot learn in a vacuum. The whole history of photography is a free and open treasure trove of inspiration.”
— David Hurn
“Photographers should not put pictures in a box under their beds and be the only ones that see them... Photography is about communication.” — David Hurn
Why Photobooks Matter
Photobooks aren’t just pretty objects to put on a shelf. They’re teachers, mentors, and sometimes the only way to truly understand a photographer’s vision. Holding a book in your hands slows you down. You see the sequencing, the pacing, the choices the photographer made. You see what they cared about, what they cut, and what they left in.
Scrolling on a screen can’t do that. Screens make everything disposable. Swipe, double tap, forget. A photobook demands your attention. You can linger, pause, think, return. You start to notice the light, the composition, the emotion. You start to see the world through someone else’s eyes.
it’s not just about your education. Buying photobooks supports the people making them. You’re funding photographers, often freelancers, who poured months, sometimes years, into a project. Every book you buy helps them keep making work that matters the kind of work that rarely gets corporate funding or Instagram likes. You’re investing in a culture of seeing, not just liking.
It also builds your visual library. You can flip through them anytime for inspiration, reference, or just a kick in the creative gut when you’re stuck. Your collection becomes a mix of stories, approaches, and styles a private gallery that shapes your own photography in ways no workshop, course, or scrollable feed ever will.
Think of your photobook library like a music collection. You might have every album of your favourite band, listen on the best headphones, and know every note but nothing beats seeing them live. That’s what photobooks are. You’re holding the photographer’s vision in your hands, printed the way they intended the choice of paper, the weight of the pages, the binding, the layout. You can study it, linger on it, return to it over and over. It’s the difference between hearing a song on Spotify and feeling it live in a stadium immersive, intentional, unforgettable.
Lessons from Martin Parr
Working with Martin Parr reinforced everything I’d learned. He has one of the largest photobook collections I’ve ever seen, housed at his foundation in Bristol. I’ve spent hours browsing through it with him, absorbing everything. Then he invited me to his secret storage a treasure trove of prints, photo projects, and rare books. Huge Bruce Gilden prints, Parr’s earliest releases, endless photo projects dating back to his Bad Weather work. He always kept six copies of his own books there. I asked him,
“Why six?”
One project that stood out for me was the Newport Survey. I collected almost every single book myself, but I missed the final release. Luckily, Martin had a copy, and I was able to view it. That project, and moments like that, showed me the power of books as archives, teaching tools, and inspiration.
Building Your Own Collection
If you’re serious about photography, buy photobooks. Read them. Study them. Treat them like teachers. Start with small zines if you’re on a budget Cafe Royal Books are brilliant. Your photobook collection becomes a personal library of inspiration, a way to study photographers you admire, and a tool to shape your own style.
Some of my personal favourites? Mark Power’s Good Morning America, Joel Sternfeld’s Strangers Passing By, Jimmy Nelson’s Before They Pass Away, Martin Parr’s The Cost of Living, Barry Lewis’ Moscow December 1982, Eugene Richards’ The Gun and Knife Club, and David Moore’s Pictures from the Real World. Each taught me something new about light, storytelling, patience, and seeing the world in ways I never had before.
“What photographer doesn’t want a book? It’s the perfect way to give their work a platform. You get to select how to sequence it, produce it, design it, and get it out into the world. And no one throws it away; magazines come and go, exhibitions come and go, but the books are here forever.” — Martin Parr
“Photography is, first of all, a way of seeing.” - Susan Sontag
