British-Armenian Photographer Among World Press Photo Award Winners

The morning of July 7 2005 was the same as any other for Edmond Terakopian, a photographer with the British Press Association (PA), until his cell phone rang during a photo shoot at London’s Natural History Museum. Along with 20 other photographers, Edmond was waiting to photograph the world’s largest uncut diamond.

The voice on the other end of the phone, however, had a new assignment for the British-Armenian photographer. Reports were coming in of an explosion at the Aldgate East Tube (Metro) Station. No other details were known.

According to Edmond’s personal account of that fateful day, it wasn’t long before the full horror that was to bring the London Tube to a halt became apparent. The British capital was under attack. A second phone call from the Press Association reporting another explosion at the Edgeware Road Tube station made that all too clear. “My heart sank. This was no longer an accident,” remembered Edmond in his account published by the Digital Journalist online magazine.

“How can there be two explosions […] in the same morning? I knew it must be terrorism.”

What followed then made headline news across the globe. However, only few people in Armenia knew that one of the most prolific photographers sending images out on the wire that week was Edmond, a friend that I have been fortunate enough to know for 12 years. Tireless in his dedication and commitment to his work, Edmond is a true professional and, unlike most other Armenian photographers, has always spared what little time he has free to encourage others.

I can count myself among the number of photographers that have benefited from his advice over the years.

Genocide, Karabakh, and the Armenian Earthquake

Despite having come from a newspaper background in Bristol, when I moved to London in late 2003, I knew few people. Although I was part of a human rights group in the London-Armenian community, Armenians as an ethnic group are always closed and divided. Conflict and competition between the various political sides of the community meant that it was almost inadmissible to “cross over” from one to the other, and as Edmond was from one side and I was associated with the other, it seemed unlikely that we would ever meet. On April 24, the day when Armenians worldwide remember the Armenian Genocide, a chance meeting changed all that.

In retrospect, I can’t remember who spoke first, but Edmond and I had a lot to talk about. As I arrived to photograph the protest outside the Turkish Embassy in Belgravia, one of us must have seen the other with a camera and engaged the other in conversation before exchanging numbers. Later that year, another issue close to Armenian communities abroad cemented our professional and personal relationship. In May 2004, a ceasefire agreement was signed between Armenia and Azerbaijan to temporarily put on hold fighting in the disputed territory of Nagorno Karabakh.

Stepanakert, Republic of Nagorno Karabakh © Edmond Terakopian 1994

Frontline, Republic of Nagorno Karabakh © Edmond Terakopian 1994

With a letter from The Independent supporting my need to document the ceasefire in Karabakh, I managed to get myself onboard a humanitarian relief flight to Yerevan in August 2004. Upon my return to London in September, I discovered that Edmond had also visited the territory a month or two earlier and we agree to meet to share experiences and photographs. In between my marveling at his collection of old Leica cameras, it wasn’t long before a few more of us would gather at Edmond’s house to check out his latest film scanner or to talk more about photography.

However, it wasn’t long before I migrated away from Armenian issues and started working closely on the Kurdish problem in Turkey while also working contracts at The Independent, The Economist, The Institute of War and Peace Reporting as well as the Kurdish Human Rights Project. All the while, however, Edmond and I kept in touch. In early 1998, Edmond pursued a personal project to document life ten years after the Armenian Earthquake for the now defunct Armenian International Magazine (AIM).

AIM had managed to waggle some deal with the also defunct Armenian Airlines whereby the magazine received free airline tickets in lieu of payment for advertising, and Edmond had visited the earthquake devastated region that Spring. His work was devastating. Although articles in AIM had painted the picture of a country well on the mend, Edmond photographed the desperate conditions that most people still lived in. Edmond came round to my apartment in London to show me the first slides from his visit upon his return.

Spitak, Republic of Armenia © Edmond Terakopian 1998

Gyumri, Republic of Armenia © Edmond Terakopian 1998

There was the amputee in Spitak who was confined to a wheelchair in the new apartment that held her captive in Spitak, the epicenter of the earthquake, while other photographs documented the plight of those still living in metal containers (domiks) a decade after the earthquake and despite millions of dollars in international assistance that poured into the country soon after. There was the old man bed-ridden being visited by his brother who was unable to afford the cost of his medication, and also men smashing debris left over from the tragedy to retrieve metal reinforcing rods for their employer to make a profit on while receiving slave wages.

I knew AIM wouldn’t touch these images. They didn’t fit in with the rose-tinted view of Armenia that the magazine, founded by Foreign Minister Vartan Oskanian, wanted presented to a large and fairly ignorant Armenian Diaspora. Like a true professional, however, Edmond did what he believed real photojournalism was and we discussed the idea of setting up a Pan-Armenian Photo Agency. Later that year, when I had already arrived in Yerevan to work for the United Developments Programme (UNDP), Edmond made his second visit to Armenia to finish his project.

After picking him up from the airport in the early hours of the morning and grabbing some beers, we retired back to my apartment where Edo was to stay before shooting off to Gyumri, and polished off a bottle of whisky that he had brought with him. Sometime during the visit, Edmond and I also met up with local photographer Zaven Khachikyan to once again discuss the idea of establishing a photo agency. It never materialized, of course, and nor did Edmond’s photo essay for AIM — although a far more prestigious magazine, Foto 8, did publish it.

I also remember Edmond advising every photographer to submit work for the 1999 World Press Photo Award. Rather than act like most photographers here by keeping information and advice to himself for the sake of money, Edo instead remained true to his character by trying to encourage colleagues and friends to enter those competitions that he would also enter. Even today, via email or on fleeting return visits to London, Edmond continues to do the same. There’s no doubt, therefore, that Edmond is not only a good friend, but also a good guy in general.

For this reason it’s been a delight to discover that he’s won third prize in the prestigious World Press Photo competition for 2005. It’s not the first major photographic competition that Edmond has won. and certainly won’t be the last, but it is perhaps the most important.

 
2005 World Press Photo award

Despite well over a decade of work published in regional, national and international publications, it’s probably no surprise to discover that Edmond’s much coveted third prize in the World Press Photo’s News Singles category was for an image shot during the July London bombings. The former Harrow Observer and Wembley Observer photographer now working for the Press Association (PA) in London referred to the winning image in an interview broadcast on CNN.

“One gentleman in particular had a newspaper in his arm, like he’d started his day, which he’d not let go of,” Edmond said in the interview broadcast a day after the bombings. “It’s kind of amazing, because he’s sort of determined to keep his stature, keep his sort of, you know, his perfect posture and that sort of semi-determined look on his face. I think if you look closer into his eyes and into face, there is an element of shock, as well, in there. It’s an interesting sort of juxtaposition, because there’s this horror that he’s just been through, and, at the same time, is trying to keep his sort of stature.

I think it’s — in a way, it sums up Londoners, actually. Stiff upper lip and we’ll just carry on.”

By Onnik Krikorian / Hetq Online

London, England © Edmond Terakopian / PA

Edmond, congratulations once again, and like the subject in your photograph, I know that you’ll continue as well. You’ve been an inspiration to me in my work and I would count you as one of the most important people I know in terms of supporting and encouraging myself as well as others. The recognition that this award brings you in the professional photographic community as well as among Armenians worldwide is well deserved.

Edmond’s web site can be found at http://www.pix.org.uk.

All photos © Edmond Terakopian, used with the permission of the photographer.

Me and Edo, Yerevan, Republic of Armenia © Zaven Khachikian 1998