Over the past few years, I think it’s safe to say that F1, my first love in car racing, has lost that “fever” and passion that it used to have. In part thanks to hideously ugly cars, processional races of fuel and tire saving in the name of the dreaded word of relevance, and a lack of sound to at least antagonize one of my body’s senses. F1 needed a good shake up. So, standing trackside at Barcelona’s circuit at 8:59am, I waited for the first view of the 2017 cars. I was shoo

The reason we watch F1 is to see the battle at the front. The world’s best drivers and teams throwing all their weight and resources to get a Grand Prix victory, and earn those points that might lead them to a world championship at the end of the year. But the real fight in F1 happens from third through tenth. And occasionally, on a special day, sometimes we get to see a team that doesn’t normally see much time at the front of the field, contending for a podium. Enter Force I

Are you a Lewis Hamilton fan? If so, why? What is it about his personality that you love? Those of us that wander the paddock with F1’s “megastar” are divided in our thoughts about him. Maybe it’s just the photographers. We mean nothing to the newly blonde king of cool. I’ve heard stories from journalists about how nice he is. He notices new shoes, new jewelry, new hair styles, a new pen. It sounds like they’re describing a different person to the one we point our lenses at.

I’ve never understood photographers. And I’ve certainly never understood the big photo agencies. It’s like it’s a sin to look at a colleague’s work and say out loud in a public forum, “Wow. He did a nice job this weekend.” “Or that frame is kick ass and very unique.” Even more rare than rivals complimenting each other is public criticism. “You’re better than that” or “That wasn’t your best effort” are words you will never hear out loud or in writing. We live in a global socie

Monaco. It is a race that has to be seen to be believed. Even when the racing action is less than exhilarating, Monaco is a magical place to watch racing cars. I am more than well aware that I have the best access that even money itself cannot buy. But even for the average fan watching from one of the countless balconies or grandstands that cover Monte Carlo, and even more so for those watching on TV and seeing those heart pounding onboard clips of today’s drivers throwing a

Lewis Hamilton is a lot of things. Fast. Talented. Moody. Larger than life. Modern. A little bit gangster. A lot of personality. He is a character in Formula 1. In an age when F1 seems to be giving drives to people without personality, Lewis can be a breath of fresh air. Each day he walks through the paddock turnstile gates, you never know which Lewis you’ll get. The confident young guy eager to throw his car around as fast as he bloody can? Or an inward, seemingly emotionall

In my eyes and my mind, Formula One has already crowned it’s 2014 World Driver’s champion? “How so” you say? “We have 2 races to go” they argue, “and one them is double points!” Let me elaborate. Lewis Hamilton is a man on a mission. Nico Rosberg is a guy without motivation. As a former athlete myself, I’m not sure how he ended up here. If you had put me in a corner and told me I was going to lose a race as a swimmer or jockey, there are two mindsets to take. One would be to

I for one hate it. Politics and sport. It makes for good newspaper reading, but that’s about it. When you boil it down, I genuinely feel bad for all the athletes, past and present, that have been dragged into this long standing debate. This wasn’t the first or last time we will see these arguments made. But last week, the political Cold War started anew between familiar players. But on new battle lines. A race track. In Russia. My personal feelings on politics and sport were

As a photographer, it is our job to capture the emotions of a sport. A time and place that will never happen again. Drivers come and go. They get wins. Lose races. Crash. But the moment that always comes with the most emotion is the first win. Every win thereafter will always pale in comparison to the raw energy of the first. On Sunday afternoon, the guy who smiles the most, even when things aren’t going his way, had the biggest smile he’ll probably ever wear in his life. Red

A sharp sound pierces the sunny Mediterranean skies as the noise echoes across the buildings around me. A car comes flying into view and I desperately try to pan with it as it screams off into the Monaco tunnel. I’m 21 years old and sitting in the grandstand with my dad across from Portier, one of Monaco’s many famous corners. It’s qualifying day for the Monaco Grand Prix 2008. With my eye stuck to the viewfinder for the next 2 days, I attempt to photograph F1 and GP2 cars at