Rising Photographers / H

In this evocative 2025 series, internationally acclaimed British photographer Emmanuel Cole turns his lens toward the Purim celebrations in Stamford Hill, one of London’s most distinctive Jewish neighborhoods. The project marks a return to Cole’s first photographic passion: documenting the unseen or rarely observed communities of his native city with sensitivity, curiosity, and respect.

In this portrait series, I portray people who move me through what they do — actors, dancers, writers, performers. People who bring stories to life on stage, on screen, or on the page. They inspire me not only through their craft, but even more so through who they are. What matters most to me is the personal connection I share with them, and the mutual willingness to truly connect.

Photography has been a part of China's cultural landscape since the mid-1800s, coinciding with the arrival of European photographers in Macao during that period. Initially, in the 1850s, these photographers established studios primarily in coastal port cities. Over time, their Chinese apprentices and local competitors expanded their presence across various regions. By the close of the 19th century, photographic studios had proliferated in all major Chinese cities, offering services to the burgeoning middle-class population for capturing portraits during significant family events. Both Western and Chinese photographers actively documented everyday street scenes, pivotal wartime events, and notable personalities of the era. Photography also gained traction as a hobby among the affluent, with figures such as Empress Dowager Cixi frequently sitting for portraits. In the early years of the People’s Republic of China, state-sponsored photographers such as Hou Bo and Xu Xiaobing produced iconic images of Mao Zedong and other leaders, shaping a highly formalized visual culture. While these works were emblematic of the official style, alternative voices would emerge decades later. The early 1990s marked a period of remarkable creative resurgence in Chinese photography, fueled by socio-political changes and increasing exposure to international art practices. This resurgence, however, waned over the following decade amidst a climate of uncertainty and apprehension. Optimism from the embrace of capitalist principles and loosening restrictions in the 1980s gave way to somber reflection following the tragic events of the Tiananmen Square massacre on June 4, 1989. By 1992, economic reforms continued, but political liberalization abruptly halted. Amidst this tumultuous backdrop, artists found solace in creative endeavors, using photography to articulate emotions and perspectives. Unlike conventional street photography or photojournalism, these artistic expressions often took on an avant-garde and introspective tone. Within Beijing’s East Village, a vibrant community of free-spirited artists thrived. Rong Rong, for instance, captured poignant moments of performance art and co-founded the first Chinese conceptual art photography magazine, New Photo. Artists such as Ai Weiwei also began documenting performances and installations, blending photography with broader conceptual practices. In the present day, contemporary photographers primarily draw inspiration from international sources, driven by cultural exposure and, historically, limited access to their own photographic heritage. Unlike predecessors, modern photographers often prioritize aesthetic principles over documentary intent, aligning themselves with the ethos of visual artists. It remains imperative to explore the plurality of Chinese photography. Throughout the 20th century, there was a tendency to categorize the medium into predefined concepts, creating a sense of uniformity. Breaking from this notion is challenging, yet necessary, to recognize diverse expressions. What does it truly mean to be a Chinese artist in a digitally interconnected world, where camera-equipped devices are ubiquitous and censorship is increasingly difficult to enforce? While location continues to matter, the term “Chinese photography” can feel abstract. Nonetheless, China retains unique characteristics. In the early 2000s, photography was less prevalent, but today, many young people embrace the medium from an early age. This burgeoning interest coincides with rapid experimentation and bold innovation, prompting galleries to engage with artists in a continuous dialogue of introspection and risk-taking.. Photography in China continues to face challenges in terms of institutional support. Nevertheless, private initiatives are steadily emerging and helping to fill critical gaps. Among them, Huang Yunhe—director of OFOTO Gallery and founder of ANART Space in Shanghai—has expressed the ambition to establish a dedicated photography museum in China. While his efforts have been important in cultivating audiences and supporting emerging photographers, the impact of any single private initiative remains limited, and broader collaboration across institutions is essential to strengthen the photographic ecosystem. Developing photography as an art form in China requires long-term cultural investment, the nurturing of new talent, and the creation of platforms such as residencies, curated programs, and educational initiatives. This collective effort is reinforced by the work of major domestic institutions and galleries, including M+ Museum in Hong Kong, Blue Lotus Gallery in Hong Kong, Xie Zilong Photography Museum, M97 Gallery & Project Space, and Three Shadows Photography Art Centre, as well as online platforms such as Photography of China. Chinese photography is also gaining increasing visibility on the international stage. Galleries and institutions abroad—such as Eli Klein Gallery in New York City and PARIS-B (formerly Galerie Paris-Beijing)—regularly present work by Chinese photographers, contributing to broader recognition of their contributions to contemporary visual culture. Strengthening links between private initiatives, domestic institutions, and international platforms remains essential for building a sustainable and vibrant photographic culture in China. Here are 10 contemporary photographers featured on All About Photo you should know.

Consider portraiture as cultural archaeology: excavating individuality to preserve the brief trace of human presence within an environment shaped by geologic time—telling stories that mirror worldwide themes of transformation where land, labor, and identity press against each other like tectonic plates, shifting slowly until—suddenly—rupture. Appropriately, the Point Reyes Peninsula straddles the San Andreas Fault.

My new "Positive/Negative Multiples" series are Black & White Fine Art Archival Pigment Photographs reimagined from my original cyanotype on fabric photographs of beachcombing treasures from Cape Cod and objects from my toy collections and other collected curiosities

The narrative of the series All My Strangers maps the cyclical nature of human encounters: the transformation from complete strangers to intimate companions, and the inevitable drift toward alienation. Each initial meeting, unburdened by a shared past, carries within it a perfect purity, and at the same time, the hidden risk of the unknown. On the West Coast of the United States, in a land built on the stories of strangers, I compose images that examine these encounters and their settings. The viewer is invited to step into the private spaces where the scenes take place. They then face the question of whether, in such fleeting moments, it’s possible to find a lasting sense of home in every stranger whose story we touch. And what if, in every stranger and every place, we are not searching for home at all, but rather for fragments of ourselves, scattered across the world?

I was in Pasadena before the Eaton Fire started on January 7th 2025. My 99-year-old mother still lives in my childhood home, and I had gone up there to do her shopping and to clean up the debris in her yard from all the high winds that day.

Since 2015, I have been captivated by the American West, immersing myself in its landscapes for my projects. I am particularly drawn to Southern California and the arid expanses of Arizona and New Mexico. Over time, I have grown intimately familiar with these deserts, connecting with their communities and embracing the unique, often overlooked no-man’s lands. In January 2024, I began researching the border regions of California, exploring the otherworldly landscapes that characterise these areas. Border landscapes are interstitial and anarchic zones that defy easy categorization. These gray areas are marked by both absence and presence. Natural desolation and human impact intertwine, lending them a strange, almost haunting beauty. A thick silence resonates there, laden with the invisible, with waiting and with loss.

'The city of Guanajuato is home to a multitude of narrow alleys and colorful old houses.' With this basic information and my prior knowledge of beautiful San Miguel de Allende, I decided to take an intensive tour of these two cities. As soon as I stepped out onto the street for the first time in the early morning in Guanajuato, I was completely amazed by the different levels of its streets, the narrow alleys, and the lights and shadows cast by this unique architecture.