For me, documentary photography has always come with great responsibility. Not just to tell the story honestly and with empathy, but also to make sure the right people hear it. When you photograph somebody who is in pain or discomfort, they trust you to make sure the images will act as their advocate.
I'm not a war photographer. I've always dealt with the consequences of conflict.
For most Olympic athletes, their training is their hardest challenge and where they push themselves to the limit. For Paralympians, training and competition is an escape from the hardships and struggles of their everyday life. That is the difference.
To step on a bomb, have your legs blown off and survive, is lucky. Everybody has a good-luck story. Mine was the fact that the senior medic was on patrol that day. Those who don't have a good-luck story are the ones who don't make it.
I really love the Olympics: Daley Thompson's back-flip, Derek Redmond's father helping him finish the 400m after his hamstring snapped at the 1992 Games in Barcelona, Carl Lewis, Michael Johnson, Sir Steve Redgrave - childhood memories are flooded with these moments and idols.
I was obsessed from the moment I took my first photograph. I wanted to make photography my career.
A lot of great creativity comes from restrictions.
When I worked as a music and fashion photographer, I always had the nagging feeling that there was something missing, that I wasn't using my skills productively. I gave up photography - I walked away from it completely - and started doing care work.