We are working on a big project that will launch this spring: a Monocle book of photography and reportage. It looks back at some of the great stories that have been shot for the magazine and is being guided by our creative director, Richard, and director of photography, Matt. There’s still some way to go and a few tough decisions to be made but this week we got to the point where just about every page has been designed once. It’s the juncture in a book project at which we commandeer the canteen, lay printouts on the tables and walk through everything to see whether the order works, whether the key points and passions have been covered, whether the mix of places makes sense. Also walking the walk are Joe, Molly and Amy from the books team.
Many of the images to be featured never made it into the magazine’s published edits – pictures from a city just before war crumpled it; shots taken in a failed nation; gritty images captured behind the scenes at a news channel. The pace at which any magazine works means that it’s hard to hold in your mind all of the stories that you have covered. And on the cusp of our 15th anniversary, it was both sobering and satisfying to see the work spread across those canteen tables.
When we started Monocle, our ambition was to bring together words and pictures to tell stories. The idea was not just to use pictures to illustrate the words but to allow a photographer to deliver an almost parallel story. Especially with the Expos, our big free-wheeling gloss section, a photographer would often work on their own, allowed to see and show things that the writer might not cover in the text. At other times a writer and photographer would work as a tight team, holed up together on epic journeys. It’s an approach that has helped to make Monocle a magazine that is known for still giving a photographer 16 pages on a single story, encouraging them to work with film, trusting their eye.
Surveying all of this work again also made me realise how some of these images have had a deep, almost subconscious effect on me. The soon-to-be-crumpled city was Aleppo in Syria; that story was shot in 2009 by Roderick Aichinger when the place was thriving and trying to be more open. Here’s an old-school travel agency; waiters in bow ties hanging out on the roof of the Mirage Hotel; a cool young woman smoking in a café. What happened to all of these people? What was their fate? As the civil war ravaged Aleppo, just having seen these images made me feel some strange connection to the city. It’s the power of photography to link viewer and subject, seer and seen, even if they will never meet.
On a side note, it’s hard to imagine that almost two years ago we were making books and magazines from our homes. We got through that time and did some amazing things but it’s so easy for nuance to be lost, for decision-making to become slow and fractious, when you are not in the same room. That’s why we have always wanted to have our team back together, in our offices and bureaux, whenever the rules have allowed. But as Omicron fades in Europe, we hope, and people speak with growing confidence about life after the pandemic, will companies that went along with working from home be able to reconvene their teams? And do they want to? This week I spoke to someone from a luxury brand who said that while most people wanted to return to work in her division, she couldn’t motivate her boss to come in. Another person told me that it was hard to imagine ever feeling the old team spirit again as their company had sold off half of its office space and told staff that in the future they would have to have “a good reason why they needed to come to the office” before rocking up.
Illustration: Mathieu De Muizon
And I promise this is the last thing. I presume you know that the UK prime minister is rightly in hot water for allowing parties to be held at 10 Downing Street at the height of lockdown. It is shameful and another instance of Boris Johnson waving his privilege in people’s faces but some of the BBC’s and Channel 4’s news presenters have sounded like they were auditioning for a job on Saudi TV. “Have you ever been to a work event where they served alcohol?” they huffily ask ministers. “I understand there was a trestle table involved,” one says. “Do you think that it was acceptable to be eating Pringles when other people in the country only had regular crisps?” (That’s what I thought would be the next question.) The stupidity of our rule-makers is enervating but sanctimonious news anchors are also irritating. And in full openness, I should confess that this week I did have a glass of wine during a work meeting and, sorry, cheese-sticks too. But there was no trestle table involved. That would have been bad and very un-Monocle.