Hello readers

It seems I am getting into bad habits, and only managing to write one blogpost a month. I haven’t been sitting idle however, but taking time to reflect on the project to date, and to unpick it a little, so as to make a more cohesive project statement (now in it’s fourth iteration). It’s an interesting process, and I am sure it would be surprising to know how many *notes I make, and just how my thoughts and thought-processes are applied to the work. I will feel a sense of achievement if just a sniff of that input will be felt in the viewing of the final selected images in whatever manifestation they find themselves.

As well as spending time reading & researching this summer, I have also been entering a host of competitions, and have had work selected for various online exhibitions and hard-copy publications. I am especially happy to announce that I had two images shortlisted for Portrait of Britain 2020, now in it’s fourth year. The 200 short-listed images will be compiled into a book that will be published by Hoxton Mini Press, and released on 1st October. You can see all of the winning and short-listed images here.

I am forever grateful to the people who allow me to make their portrait. For this project in particular I often have very little time to explain what I am trying to achieve in terms of the project. I then have to get them interested and work spontaneously in order to create the photograph. There are gaps in my images, which I shall try to amend, but it really is a case of responding to people I see and encounter. We all have some kind of built-in attraction magnet which means that some people/ scenes just don’t fit or feel right, whilst others draw me in. One of those gaps is young people: both children, and older youths. I have approached groups of teenagers a couple of times, and neither time was successful. I once asked a Mum in a park if I could photograph her two young children who were gleefully chasing their dog, but she told me that they were both adopted, and she wouldn’t want the images becoming public. Quite recently I thought I had struck gold, as an imagined photograph became a reality when I saw a young girl looking out of her window. I went and knocked the door, explained myself to the girl’s mother, and she was more than happy to allow me to take a shot from the street, looking up to her daughter as she day-dreamed from the window. Lo and behold I was unaware that the lens I had attached was not compatible with the camera I was using which resulted in nothing being recorded on the film. Upon explaining this sorry story to a friend she offered up her child as a replacement, but that child would not have been the right person in the right place. You win some, you lose some, and I have been presented with some absolute gems on this journey so far.

Therefore this blogpost is dedicated not only to the people who have participated in the making of photographs, but for all those I have asked for directions, enquired about the local area, or just by chance shared useful insights with me.

The trip I just mentioned, where I fluffed the picture of the girl wasn’t a full-on disaster. The image below was taken at the same location. Just the other day I was talking to a colleague about approaching strangers to ask if you can make their photograph. The shot below almost never happened as I was stood a few doors away having a battle in my head about going to ask if they would participate: Why did I feel relaxed about knocking on a stranger’s door and asking to photograph their child, but really uncertain about approaching the hairdressers? It is not always obvious, but these are the hurdles you have to get over if you want to portray people. I am forever stepping out of my comfort zone, and like anything, the more you practice the better you become at it, or at least you worry less, and nothing so far has killed me!

On a previous trip to the same village I met Alan who was just getting started with adorning his house with Christmas decorations. A few months ago I went back and hand-delivered him a copy of the picture. I asked him about his reflections of the lockdown, and of the impact of Covid-19 within the village.

He told me that it felt so empty as most amenities had been closed; from the village cafe to the school and the village hall. We discussed some of the things that many of us have been dealing with since March: getting to grips with Zoom technology, cancelling our holidays, and missing visiting our loved ones. Alan and his wife would ordinarily see their Grandchildren, aged 3 and 5 every day. They live in the same village, but had to endure waving through the window and communicating online. He said just recently (we spoke in mid-July) that he had the best day when he got to see his grandchildren in person and to practice Tai Chi outside on the same day.

My last photographic trip took me to Gerrards Cross for the second time. I wandered further in one direction than I had before and found myself walking down a residential hill, which was wide and tree-lined with large houses set back from the road. I had the camera mounted on the tripod, so was keeping a leisurely pace, and despite the road not looking very promising from a photographic point of view I felt I should make it to the bottom. I overtook two people who I had been observing on my way down: a teenage grandson who was prancing his way down the road, making turns and moving his body theatrically; his grandmother walking a little way behind. At the bottom of the hill, there was a small junction, just before the road joined a dual carriageway, which was a bit of a surprise. I took one look, and I couldn’t see any reason to cross over the dual carriageway, so I turned on my heel to head back the way I came. As I started, the grandmother asked me “are you here about the new cycling road” or words to that effect. “No” I told her, as my mind whirred, “what is that?”. She proceeded to explain how a cycling group were lobbying to make one of these roads for cyclists only, and explaining the implications for residents: basically she was not a fan. I assured her that that was nothing to do with me (I wonder what she would have done to me if it were?!) and took the opportunity to ask her if there was anything interesting in these parts. Whilst she was telling me about a nice walk and river that lay beyond the dual carriageway her Husband joined us, and I gave another overview of what I was doing. Ever the opportunist I asked if I could tag along, and take some pictures. And so, by an inquiry and a conversation with strangers I found myself crossing a dual carriageway, and walking down an obscure lane, bringing us to the River Chess…I would never have known.

A quick note on making portraits in the year of questioning everything…

For those working in photography and the arts you may well be aware of various conversations about the ethics involved in photographing people that have become more prevalent over the past few years. We hear of the colonial gaze, the male gaze and the gaze of ‘outsiders’ looking in onto subcultures and various communities of people who may identify themselves as ‘other’.

Photography has a long history of recording information whether that is in a truly documentary capacity or in a more sinister ‘look at this’ kind of a way, or even in a completely exploitative manner. Very recently Martin Parr has come under fire for his part in a racism row affiliated to a re-editioned book that he wrote a new introduction for, and he also praised the underhand tactics of a Magnum photographer, David Allen Harvey for the way he faked his identity to gain access to take photographs of young sex workers in Thailand. Harvey had his membership suspended, which I think may have subsequently been revoked altogether. I just looked on Magnum’s website, and he does not come up in any searches: he was a member for over twenty years.

I recently went to a David Goldblatt exhibition with a photography colleague, and he was uncomfortable with Goldblatt’s representation of his subjects, who were predominately black. Goldblatt was a South African photographer who photographed throughout the Apartheid regime in South Africa. Rather than document the upheaval and injustices taking place, he chose instead to turn his camera on scenes of everyday life. He has been criticised by some of his peers for taking this approach.

In terms of the exhibition we saw, I was trying to understand the pictures from the perspective of a portrait photographer, and I did not get the same sense of discomfort as my colleague. At the time I said something like this in response different photographers take different approaches to how they make their work, and Goldblatt’s style may well result in his subjects looking uncomfortable. Many people are uncomfortable when having their picture taken, but it depends a lot on the photographer’s direction or personality as to how those people look (and perhaps feel) when they are suspended in a photograph. I have done some further research since visiting the exhibition, and discussed a bit further with my friend, but things can get complicated very quickly when trying to unpick someone else’s work, and attempting to surmise their intentions.

For anyone interested you can read an interview between David Goldblatt and Jonathan Cane here, which was published by Aperture, Autumn 2015.

I did get the sense somewhat from my colleague that portrait photographers should perhaps justify every image they ever take with a lengthy explanation. I can say for myself that I find humans infinitely fascinating, and by making their picture you get to spend a little time with them, have a conversation and learn from each other. I would hate to think that I am exploiting people, and degrading them in any way.

*Geek Memo

For those that are interested I am on my third small notebook (which comes out on location) and also my third larger notebook which stays at home and contains ideas, thoughts and reflections. Now I have begun collating ideas and trying to make sense of my musings I am on the ninth page of an online/live document with a working title of Progress - Purpose.