UK photographer Jocelyn Bain Hogg spent ten years documenting organized crime life, from the activity of British gangsters in South London to their exile in Tenerife, Canary Islands. With unprecedented access, these glaring images capture the storied villains at home, salacious private parties, unlicensed boxing matches, business talks ,and funerals of the “the old-school Godfathers of British crime” whose deaths would fracture and decentralize the social order within these underworld societies. The Firm was completed in 2001, re-visted in 2008, and is now on view at London’s Foto 8 Gallery through January 14.
“These are not the faces of criminals who hide behind the facade of respectability or the corruption of political influence. They are, in fact, the real thing, men who hold their head up when challenged, and who seek no false redemption in the face of public vilification.” Meet the family in our gallery.

Mickey at home with Maria and Chanelle. Photo credit: Jocelyn Bain Hogg, The Firm




Comments (13)
is it me, or does that last image resemble the cover of jay-z’s “the blueprint?” wonder if that’s a coincidence or not.
Oh, wow, you’re onto something.
http://live.drjays.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/fa05bd942cb0e9d2cf8aacacd1e7d67d260953ea.jpg
Total rip off. Of course the Dave Courtney one is the original. The band Rancid even wrote a song about him. I saw him walking in to Rancid’s London Astoria gig in c2010
glorification without showing anything beyond the superficial and the photographs look slightly better than an iphone camera
Adam – Nice catch. That DOES look exactly like “The Blueprint.” The angle, the table, the mic, the feet to the side, the cigar. It looks too close to be a coincidence. That album dropped after the pic was taken, on 9/11/01 (another coincidence).
“They are, in fact, the real thing, men who hold their head up when challenged, and who seek no false redemption in the face of public vilification.”
Give me a break.
Sociopathic thugs are not “real men”.
And starry-eyed girls who glorify same are not photographers but propagandists.
I get so sick of this kind of stuff.
These men are fat mysogynistic-homophobic, racist brutes and have no redeeming qualities. They’re not even attractive. The photographs are banal. They made their living off of other people’s suffering. Really, what’s the point?
Really? Since when is a photograph of a gun to a woman’s head while her child watches “banal”? Beyond the content, the tones and constructions of the shots are beautiful, but I say that as a photographer, not as a member of the peanut gallery.
Just a quick note: hopefully everyone here realizes the two sentences about these being “men who hold their head up when challenged” are from the artist’s own statement on the work…? Whether or not you agree with these sentiments — personally, I don’t — the photos are pretty compelling pieces of documentary work, and well-shot to boot.
Yes, I grok that the statements in quote are the artis-, er, fanboi’s.
Going native taints the data, well-composed or not.
@Sarah – “Going native taints the data” – well, yes and no. It just makes it interesting in a different way. The relationship between a documentary-maker and their subject is never impartial, and is often a pretty weird and symbiotic one – and for me, the fact that the photographer appears to have been seduced by the mythology of a pretty objectionable group of people lends the photos a strange poignancy. It calls to mind that unfortunate film-maker who was making a documentary about Pete Doherty – another nasty piece of work – and ended up dead from a drug overdose. But that’s just me.
two words come to mind, gritty, and intimate.
Tom, I appreciate your thoughtful comments. Of our differing viewpoints, your cool intellectual remove is far more appropriate than my very personal, visceral response. I can’t see the forest for the tree-trunk-like sociopathic fat fucks I guess.
Maybe when one has seen too much, one should recuse herself from commenting.
The Libertines are dead (thanks to Pete); long live the Libertines.
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