Engaging with others who work within the same professional field can often be be fraught with emotional insecurities. Judgements on perceived career success, doors that have been open to others (but not you) and for some reason in photography the tools which you use, all act as signifiers of success or stature. This, within an industry which perpetuates a need for hierarchy through competitions created by gatekeepers, doesn't aid the creative journey of the individual, steering photographers to make work that is similar to those who are deemed more successful. In a medium that is built around a subjective view portrayed through countless creative opportunities, the world of photography still perpetuates this idea of comparison, poisonous in our search for personal expression.

To some degree, I get it, we're all waiting for that pat on the back from someone (which I think I'm more aware of having lost my father as a student), a small acknowledgement that we're trying our best each day would be a powerful thing, but I think we can go looking for that in the wrong places.

Over the past few months I've been engaging with both mentoring those who are just starting out in photography and others who are just a few steps behind where I currently find myself. I've also been received mentoring from two wonderful photographers who are able to impart their experience and perspective on developing a photobook to me. I find all of these relationships hugely rewarding.

Through the summer I have been running a series of workshops with youth groups in East Manchester, putting a variety of cameras into the hands of kids who've never been able to try it out before. We've explored a themes including family, community, hopes, fears and their impression of Manchester itself. It's incredible to see how excited some of them are at getting to take pictures of their friends and surroundings and begin to express themselves through pictures. Seemingly the only thing holding them back from taking some remarkable photographs was the opportunity to hold a camera and some gentle encouragement from me.

As the weeks have gone by I feel I've got to know some of these kids well, partly through what we talk about, but also through the images that they're making. I've tried to be really intentional with encouraging each child to explore slightly further, engage with different subject matter and see the world in a new way. I want to affirm them and let them know that even if they've never been given the chance before, they can grasp something new and be creative. I can see the tangible sense of disappointment on their faces when I have to tell them that next week will be our last session, but it's my hope that the opportunity to hold a camera and my words will be enough for them to explore it more for themselves in the future.

We're currently in the process of arranging an exhibition of the work, which will be a very special occasion for the kids, to see their work on the walls of a gallery and know not only that they have created something that they can be proud of, but to share their view on the world with others. Beyond that, I may never know the impact that these sessions have had on the kids who've taken part, but it was a chance for me to positively influence their lives if only for a few weeks. Encouragement doesn't cost us anything, but it may be the assurance that someone else needs in order to take a step towards something new and important in their lives.

The mentoring that I both give and receive is within quite formalised settings, but opportunities to offer encouragement don't only have to happen within the constraints of professional engagement. (As the captain of a failing village football team many years ago, I always felt that I could never offer too much encouragement, even if we were 9-0 at half time). We all need a pat on the back sometimes and to know that someone is willing us on. That small word of encouragement can go so much further than you think.

This piece is taken from my July mailout, which also features Brian Dillon, Max Ferguson and Big Thief.

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Each time I embark on a new photography project requires a series of decisions that apply constraints to the way in which I’m going to make work. Without any constraints, the options for making each picture seem endless, so the parameters I set both consciously and unconsciously aid my decision making in the moment by essentially giving me less options. It’s a fresh opportunity to assess the way in which I’m working and allows me to consider the equipment I’m using, the location, subject matter and people involved.

This process essentially eliminates many of the opportunity of chance affecting the images. It puts me in control and on an often a relatively narrow path to create what I’ve intended. This can be incredibly helpful when I’m working with people, having a structured process reduces the variables and the consistency can really aid the impact of the final set of images. The constraints also help when I’m trying to build a specific atmosphere within a body of work, particularly when editing and deciding which images to include and which images might lead the viewer away from my intended sentiments.

Last November I took a trip to Athens to take part in some workshops run by Nearest Truth. My aim had been to get feedback on existing work from the tutors, Raymond Meeks, Adrianna Ault, Tim Carpenter and Gregory Halpern, which was extremely productive.

Naturally, I began to explore the city with my camera, it felt disarming, run down and actually quite unsettling. It forced me away from my usual parameters of work, I had to push through the discomfort and embrace the chance to respond to what was in front of me, without any preconceived idea of what the pictures might look like. There is a risk to that. The pictures may well reveal more about yourself than you are normally willing to admit, but that is the point. I slowly scratched away those layers built up through years of socialisation, the shells created to protect myself from a world that demands so much and wants to hold us to higher standards than are actually possible.

As the week went on, I found my flow, the pictures just seemed to happen so naturally, so much so that I went back in March to continue what I’d begun at the end of last year. The picture below is a great example of something I wouldn’t have even considered capturing at home. Technically it’s imperfect, but there’s a narrative within it which draws me in. I want to embrace that serendipity, the opportunity to step outside my psychological structures and see where it leads me.