Photojournalism died, at least for McCullin, 40 years ago when two things happened. Andrew Neil fired him from the Sunday Times where, until Rupert Murdoch took over the paper, he had spent 18 fulfilling years under the editorship of the legendary Harold Evans. And in 1982 he was refused permission to sail with the British task force to the Falklands, probably for fear that his MO of depicting human suffering was inimical to the propaganda the government sought to relay. Photography, McCullin thinks, has dealt in celebrity and propaganda ever since, the very things his work stood out against. The Landscape Photographer of the Year competition has been running for a fair few iterations now, and if you’re looking for more landscape inspiration, the previous years’ collections are just as spectacular as the latest. The 2021 competition was the award’s 14th year – you can see all the 2021 LPOTY winners here – and includes some absolute gems.

Some have supposed McCullin a Catholic, compelled to bear witness to human suffering and tormented with guilt for doing so. He denies that. “I was 13 when my father died. He meant a lot to me. But for him to die weighing seven stone and enfeebled by asthma told me there was no God.” FR: Is that because of what you’ve seen in life, or because of where you’ve come from in life? Are you talking about your life as a war photographer, or are you talking about the neighborhood where you grew up—a sense of fairness of play?

Last on

Not to be dismissed as ‘a macho man in combat gear’ … McCullin in the Philippines in 1986. Photograph: Alex Bowie/Getty Images Now that his Roman series is complete, he has a yearning to photograph the Parthenon Marbles. He wants to keep working but can’t spend as much time in his beloved darkroom as he’d like because the chemicals are bad for his health. He suffers from asthma and had a toe amputated last year. “Didn’t do any good.” He shows me his latest work: huge and lovely images of classical statues from museums around the world, made into inkjet prints by a friend. He’s having to learn to cede control to others which, perhaps, for someone who regards himself as a self-made man who got out of the badlands by the skin of his teeth, doesn’t come naturally. He’s never been so interested in the technicalities of photography. "All you have to do in photography is get the exposure right and then adjust your camera," he says. But that’s not all. "What you have to do is to adjust your mind, your emotions. That is the most important part." DM: It was like what we would call a head-butt. It was about butting somebody in the head and showing them my images. Now I’m behaving in a much more dignified way. Naturally, I’m getting older and coming to the end of my life, so I’ve slowed down. I’ve reinvented myself. The reason I am doing these new landscapes, this new Roman project, is because it’s a form of healing. I’m kind of healing myself. I don’t have those bad dreams. But you can never run away from what you’ve seen. I have a house full of negatives of all those hideous moments in my life in the past.

Sir Don McCullin was born in 1935 and grew up in a deprived area of north London. He got his first break when a newspaper published his photograph of friends who were in a local gang. From the 1960s he forged a career as probably the UK’s foremost war photographer, primarily working for the Sunday Times Magazine. His unforgettable and sometimes harrowing images are accompanied in the show with his brutally honest commentaries. I don’t want to be idle’ … McCullin in his studio with our writer. Photograph: Linda Nylind/The Guardian Don McCullin is one of our greatest living photographers. Few have enjoyed a career so long; none one of such variety and critical acclaim. For the past 50 years he has proved himself a photojournalist without equal, whether documenting the poverty of London’s East End, or the horrors of wars in Africa, Asia or the Middle East. Simultaneously he has proved an adroit artist capable of beautifully arranged still lifes, soulful portraits and moving landscapes. One of the best ways to inspire yourself to take more and better landscapes is to look at the work of others, so, we’ve compiled this list of some of the best landscape photography books that have passed our desks over the past few years. We’ve included a mixture of collections that include the work of several photographers, and books created by just a single artist. It doesn’t matter really – we just love seeing great landscapes! Was he ever scared for his life? “You’re on a tightrope on a very high wire,” he says. “One slip and you’re done for. When I was working in those places, I was constantly swivelling my head and eyes around to make sure that my intrusion was very limited. I had to get the pictures, but one false move could get you into all kinds of trouble – maybe even killed. That kind of life is gossamer-thin with danger.”Old age is making me frail. I stumble sometimes. I just had an operation to remove a tumour. I’m unfazed by the pain.

Don McCullin. The Stillness of Life‘ will be on view at Hauser & Wirth Somerset until 6 September 2020. The exhibition continues to explore McCullin’s documentation across the United Kingdom, featuring pensive rural scenes that include Hadrian’s Wall, Northumberland; the River Cam, Cambridgeshire; Rannoch Moor and Glencoe, Scotland. These images are presented in contrast to poignant urban landscapes from McCullin’s early career and visits to Northern England between the 1960s – 70s. McCullin’s honest and empathetic approach towards years of widespread British poverty, social concerns and hardship is most apparent in this body of work, highlighting a genuine commitment to communities often overlooked and the landscape in which they inhabit. Our interview almost over, McCullin offers to drive me up to see the dew pond. On the way, he describes how he’s planting trees – poplars, chestnuts, walnuts and limes – in the valley beneath his house. ‘I feel obliged now, since trees are very important in my landscapes. I should contribute.’ After ten minutes or so, we arrive at the pond. ‘You probably think I’m mad bringing you up here,’ he says, ‘but I wanted to show you. It’s one of the simplest, most beautiful things you’ll ever see.’ In his photo, the pond is a silver disc, shining out beneath a lowering sky; today, it’s bright blue, a dot of stillness among the muddy winter fields. In 1964 the Observer sent McCullin to Cyprus, where he had previously been stationed with the RAF during his national service, to cover the fresh outbreak of violence. The photographs he took were his first images of live conflict.

McCullin is a striking person to spend time with, still consumed by photography, good-humoured and reflective about the craft and ethics of his profession – but the conflict that has shaped his life is never far from the surface. I tell him that this comes through even in his photographs of the countryside. ‘You may also consider that I’m poisoning it, by the way I present it,’ he says. ‘But you’ve got to love somewhere like this to be able to bring the best out of it.’ In 1971 McCullin asked to cover the Bangladesh War of Independence after reading about the possibility of a million refugees fleeing into India. At the time, Bangladesh was known as East Pakistan and was under a joint administration with West Pakistan. This was established during the 1947 Partition of India, which saw the end of British colonial rule and the creation of two independent Indian and Pakistani states, based on the religious majorities in both regions. Following a British plan, Partition was a violent act of separation that displaced 14 million people and killed up to 2 million. It set the stage for the Bangladesh War of Independence and continuing tensions between India and Pakistan. McCullin travelled to Germany in 1961 to photograph the building of the Berlin Wall. After the Second World War, Europe had become a divided continent formed of capitalist countries in the west and communist regimes in the east. The economic situation was significantly poorer in Eastern Europe, with food and housing in short supply, as well as restrictions on individual freedoms. Germany was split into four zones, controlled by Britain, the US, France and Russia. The three western areas formed West Germany. The Soviet-controlled zone became East Germany. The capital city, Berlin, located within the Soviet zone, was similarly divided. Other images haunt him at night. A few months after surviving Hué, McCullin was covering the Biafran war in south-eastern Nigeria. “Can you imagine in Biafra a million died of starvation? I stood in front of 600 children at a school who were standing on legs that could barely carry them. They were dropping down in front of me and dying.” He pauses. “I’m talking as if I’m completely mad and a liar and imagining these things. I question myself all the time. But it did happen. I have the pictures to prove it.”