A picture that is ghostly and silent can be more eloquent and less clichéd than a noisier photo-journalistic approach and I have attempted to make pictures that whilst they are not documentary in the traditional sense, they are still documents, like forensic traces.

[My] pictures are about memory and forgetfulness. The evidence is dissolving. Bones crumble; human ash returns to soil; teeth, sandals, hair, bullets, axes disperse into atoms and molecules. Footprints in the snow will be erased by the next storm. The evidence of evil, like the evidence of good, obeys the universal laws of entropy. Heat cools, matter disintegrates, memories fade. If we let them.

A picture that is ghostly and silent can be more eloquent and less clichéd than a noisier photo-journalistic approach and I have attempted to make pictures that whilst they are not documentary in the traditional sense, they are still documents, like forensic traces.

I don't feel like I'm taking pictures, I feel like I'm just gathering them in. They're all out there. I know where they'll be; I just have to get out of bed early enough to bring them home. Like lost kittens.

When you're photographing anything to do with war and conflict you're photographing something impossible. Everything you do is just clumsy and stupid and half witted. Because it is impossible to portray the full width and breadth of everything that you are up against.