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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
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      • authorHalf Moon Gallery
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      • tagseditorial selection process,sequencing,publishing,exhibiting
      • titleCamera Obscured? Perspectives on contemporary British Photograhy seminar series
      • subtitlePerspectives on contemporary British Photography 6.The Public Face of British Photography. Seminar Poster. Participants include Sue Davies, Ainslie Ellis, Colin Ford, Dr. V Harrison, Tom Hawkyard, George Hughes, Barry Lane, Colin Osman, Tom Picton
      • dimension1 page
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      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork
      • creditsGreater London Arts Association
      • relatedYoung British Photographers 0000084 Photography on the Curriculum 0000085 Women in Photography 0000088
      • locationAldgate East, London, UK
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      • tagsoriginal prints,auction,photography equipment,books,magazines,photographic paper,crowds
      • titleCamera Obscured? Perspectives on contemporary British Photograhy seminar series
      • subtitleFlyer for Camera Obscured Seminars held in 1975
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      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork
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      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
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      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorTony Bock, Terry Dennett, Roger Eaton, Mike Goldwater, Janet Goldberg, Marilyn Noad, Tom Picton, Joanna Spence, George Solomonides, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerTerry Dennett,Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Paul Trevor
      • author_photographerNick Hedges, Ron McCormick, Larry Herman, Chris Searle, Exit, Helmut Newton, Claire Schwob
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      • author_intervieweeNick Hedges, Ron McCormick, Larry Herman
      • author_organisationShelter, The Sunday Times (Billboard), Pretty Polly (Billboard), Exit
      • tagshousing,alternative practice,commercial photography,social realism,alternative representation,photojournalism,community photography,shelter,helmut newton,fashion,sexual politics,pornography,alternative technology,processing,printing,class,poverty,politics,'problem in the city',ron mccormick,nick hedges,larry herman,collective working,exhibiting,ica,captions,self-publishing,statement of aims
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 01
      • subtitleIssue 1: The Politics of Photography Interview - "Problem in the City" Self Publishing
      • dimension9 pages
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      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Terry Dennett,Tom Picton, Joanna Spence, Paul Trevor, Nick Hedges, Ron McCormick, Larry Herman, Chris Searle, Exit, Helmut Newton, Claire Schwob, Shelter, The Sunday Times (Billboard), Pretty Polly (Billboard), Exit
      • credits
      • relatedTony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2013/02/20/tony-bock-photographer/ Tony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2018/03/02/tony-bock-on-the-railways-x/ Tony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2017/03/03/tony-bocks-east-end-portraits/
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 3) Nottingham, UK (pg 4,5,6) Clydeside, UK. Merseyside, UK. West Midlands, UK. Tyneside, UK. South Wales, UK. Glasgow, Scotland, UK.
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      • pdf_textIn this Issue: The Politics O f Photography Interview - “Problem in the City” Self-publishing No I Half Moon Photography Workshop February 1976 20p Page I THE POLITICS OF PHOTOGRAPHY Jo Spence Every day, photographers produce countless images, most o f which will never be seen by a mass audience. However, those that are seen, in newspapers, magazines and on high street hoardings play an important part in our lives. With their messages - both explicit and hidden they help to shape our concepts o f what is real and what is normal. They give us information about the sort o f sex roles we are expected to play in society, contribute to our image o f ourselves, to our expectations and to our fant asies. Television, cinema and all visual media echo the same ideology. Continually repeated visual images, in time, become part o f our stored experience. Images help us to believe that people are innately aggressive, intelligent, loving or lowly - according to their sex or race, or to the idea being sold to us. All this we tend to call ‘ human nature’. In fact what we see most o f the time could more readily be labelled ‘ stereotyping’ - long understood by cartoonists, illustrators, painters and actors. It is a series o f visual signals and short cuts, established over a period o f time and decodable within any given culture. Often before we can read or write we can learn to decipher whether people shown in images are happy or sad, rich or poor, powerful or weak, by understanding this non-verbal language. alism is seldom set in any meaningful social or political perspective. More often than not it is an unjustifiably voyeuristic and one-sided account o f the stark situation in which many people are forced to live - or a superficial treat ment o f the joys and sorrows o f celebrity life. Photo journalists are employed mostly by magazines and newspapers, and they are tightly controlled by very few companies and publish ing houses. Work is often edited beyond recog nition or used out o f context. Printed in the mass press. or alongside the hi-fi and sherry adverts in the colour supplements, this imagery eventually becomes just another commodity tor us to thumb through in our search lor distraction, or for the ‘ truth’. appeals are financed by government or charities whose terms o f reference seem to force the use o f countless euphemisms or the total exclus ion o f the contradictions o f local and central government policies, or the part played by profiteering in the texts accompanying photo graphs. It is almost as if such appeals were all part, o f some secret ritual in which the ‘ facts’ are pre sented for consideration, but presented in such a way that we remain mystified as to the real causes, or even end up blaming the victims! Some alternatives. Groups like REPORT and the Alternate News Service have now formed in order to service political newspapers, mag Community photographers are encouraging people to photograph each other, friends and family, then their social environment. This provides immediate feedback for discussion, provides aids for story-telling and reading, and makes it possible to look at the world differ ently. People can discover how to relate to themselves and to others more positively when armed with images o f themselves - images which counteract the stereotypes usually seen in the mass media. It is important to look at the context from which these images spring and at the background o f the people who produce them. Current trends in commercial photography Photographic colleges, as part o f their policy in trying to professionalize photography, are still tightening up their entrance qualifications for those wishing to study photography. They do this in liaison with the official bodies represen ting photographers. Once through the initial vetting, students then live and work for several years in the rarefied atmosphere o f colleges in which there are no realistic deadlines or cares about the cost o f materials and equipment, and in which they are in isolation from the feelings and needs o f the majority o f people whom they will use as subject matter. Here they learn to pass more examinations. They are then released in great numbers onto the very competitive job market where the only bodies likely to be interested in their qualificat ions will be industry and government establish ments . The remainder then chase the few"other jobs available, become freelancers, set up their own businesses, or find some entirely different way to earn a living. Commercial photography is a competitive ratrace entirely geared to servicing the needs o f contemporary consumer society. Alongside this, photographic technology advan ces rapidly, with faster acting materials and more expensive time-saving equipment. At the same time though, materials not considered commercially viable by manufacturers are slashed from catalogues and disappear forever. Photographers themselves are caught in the trap o f improving their techniques, whilst at the same time, the content o f their pictures becomes more stereotyped, transiently fashion able, semi-pornographic or obtuse. Sophist icated courses have even been devised to train photographers how better to exploit a situation in order to get people to relate more easily to the intrusive earners, thus becoming more easily turned into objects. Social realism. Concurrent with commercial photography is the race to be more socially realistic in our picture making. More and more we arc assailed with aesthetically cropped pictures o f corpses, gun fights, starving children or the so-called important members o f our society. With rare exception such photo journ Community photography. The most recent break with traditional fields o f photography has been the use o f photography as a TOOL by community activists. Already a well estab lished field in North America, several photo graphers (singly or in groups) have now managed to obtain short-term grants or funds for the setting up o f photographic units within comm unity, neighbourhood or youth projects. Here photography can be explained to and used by laypeople. This is done by starting with simple cameras, or video, and then gradually working through to the more technically advanced equipment, linked to darkroom and printing skills. This puts photography into the hands o f a lot o f people who will eventually be able to dispense with the experts. This move has provoked some reaction from those who have fought for years to gain for photography the status o f a Profession, elevating it via O and A Level exams and degree courses out o f the grasp o f the majority o f people. But o f course such policy is entirely in keeping with our hierarchical class society. The middle class mystifies and refines knowledge; at the same time it manages to rationalize its activity by convincing us that this is all in the interests o f progress and economic growth. Photography as a tool is far removed from such attitudes because it negates elitism. The main objective here is to enable people to achieve some degree o f autonomy in their own lives and to be able to express themselves more easily, thus gaining solidarity with each other. It also helps to some extent to demystify media and to make the relationship much less o f a one-way affair. This is a far cry from the passive and abject individual problems o f those depicted in charity appeals. Basically though, they could be the same people - just totally different approaches. Agitators or objects o f pity - which to choose? Other photographers, interested in the problems o f poverty and oppression, work for charities. There are now over 400 national bodies dealing solely with children; some o f them now employ quite sophisticated techniques to attract our attention and make us feel guilty. Using inter national advertising agencies we are sold the illustrated saga o f the under-privileged and those suffering from the ‘ cycle o f deprivation’ (or could we call it the cycle o f exploitation?). Such appeals are usually graphically presented on glossy paper, tastefully designed, with suitably abject women or children on the covers. Usually such photographs are taken by people o f a different social class from those depicted. These photographers have a difficult task; they are concerned with the plight o f their subject matter, seeing the medium o f photography as the only way in which they can help present a case for consideration. However, the major problem to be overcome is that in depicting people whom they (as outsiders) consider would benefit from the public stare, it is usually more profitable to show only the bleaker side o f people’ lives. However, such s ‘ victims’ can react very violently when faced with pictures o f themselves as potential recipients o f charity handouts. The integrity o f photographers faced with this situation, and who arc trying not to be patronising, hangs by a very fine thread. Eventually when such pictures (heavily edited) are used, they are accompanied by statements which disocciate themselves from politics. Such reports and azines and community presses. They concen trate on industrial and community action, showing solidarity among people, unlike the mass press which often depicts only the struggle o f the individual. Other collectives have formed to record life in the neighbourhoods o f working people, whilst others are recording social cond itions and inequalities. Linked to statistics, or used in juxtaposition with glossy advertising myths or official documents, or alongside interviews with the people depicted, individual or national issues can be highlighted in order to reveal the lack o f understanding o f the planners and decision-makers who shape our destinies. Such work is also used away from galleries, in high streets, public meeting places and in education, as a mirror to show events considered ‘ un-newsworthy’ by the national press. Other photographers, because o f their disill usionment with the highly competitive job market, and because o f a genuine identification with the need for social change, have gravit ated towards alternative magazines and books. These cover a wide variety o f issues ranging from community action, anti-psychiatry and radical social work, to feminism and children’ rights. s Such work has deeper political perspectives but it reaches a more limited audience. Gener ally there is very little financial reward from it. these photographers often having to supplement their income with other types o f work. What long-term results community activists can achieve with photography still remains to be seen. Funds and grants are hard to get (and much competed for) and are always given conditionally. Some photographers have already been threatened with the withdrawal o f their funds because they have supposedly gone too far. Hopefully people in their own neighbourhoods are not already so alienated from themselves and from each other that they will adopt techniques o f dishonesty or exaggeration in their picture making. Those who have their roots in a neighbourhood cannot afford to photograph people as mere ‘ things’. They still have to live with each other after the pictures have been produced. This has o f course been a problem for photo graphers for a long time; however involved they are, they still have to gain the confidence o f their subject matter in order to get their pictures (be they paid models or the unsuspecting general public). Then, having gained their objective.thcy can go back to their clients, potential markets, or private collections, more often than not closing the door on the lives o f those with whom they were tempor arily involved. Common sense might tell us that this is often due to lack o f ttime. Is it as simple as that? Or is it part o f our demarcation o f personal life and professional life? Page 2 Helmut Newton -Review moneyed elite of Europe. He’s preserving his role as untalented actresses preserve theirs. Very unusual. It ’s not quite pornography and yet it ’s very artistic. Very artistic pornography, on the fringe of it. I like the way he cuts people in half and only shows half the person. Fashion photography can be as mouth watering as candy-floss. As ephemeral as a fruit fly, it is allied to a ruthless selling machine. It is repres sive. fetishist, mystifying and obscurantist. It trivialises with glossy efficiency. It is part of a culture industry that absorbs protest and a li enation by making it 'fashionable.' It often has a wit and panache which other, more solemn, photographers could usefully emulate. They are a little bit too far out. Probably this is the only gallery that would put them on. I was here at the opening - you couldn’t move in there. It ’s a very popular show, but I somehow feel they are far too erotic. It ’s a breakaway, but for something lasting, no. You might just as well buy MAYFAIR... Currently, the fantasies of Helmut Newton are appearing at The Photographers' Gallery. 8 Great Newport Street. London. Tom Picton asked people what they thought. 1 half expected to see a picture o f the Fuehrer in the background. It was sort of that time. I thought they were very good. 1 think they were a bit strange actually. They didn’t turn me on. I didn't find them erotic, and I found a rather revolting one of people’s innards that somebody was wiping her eye with. Excellent photographs as photographs; beautifully printed and interesting, but they weren’t quite my type o f photograph. I like it. I really enjoy what they do because it changes into something really literate and glossy. I like it. Very erotic. I ’ve seen most of them before actually. Strange prints, the colour prints were amazing. The pictures I ’d seen before, I ’d seen in PHOTO and VOGUE and things like that. It was just interesting to see very good colour prints of them. I work in advertising. As photos I think they are amazing. We thought it was disgusting. Filthy. Some of them showing their fannies and their tits. Some shows their bums. I think some of them were quite good in a book. Some of them show their winkles...that’s quite good. Are we going to be on telly? I ’ve just come from the pub and I ’m sloshed out of my mind. They were fascinating. I ’ m a painter, and I was just stunned by them. They’re amazing. I didn't like the David Hockney ones at all, I thought they stood out as being very bad, very contrived. The ones that were a bit like Hockney paints were rather nteresting pictures. I thought they were very good, beautiful colour. I can't talk about the content. The colour is the content. I didn’t think they were porno graphic at all. I liked the 1950’s atmosphere. A lot of them were very similar to paintings, like Lichtenstein. Some of them are nostalgic, some of them are much more up to date, but I particulary like those two at the back, like the 1950’s starlet pictures from Cannes, but they were the best of the lot, but less open. I thought they were fabulous. They are very sexy and very provocative, but not porny or nasty or dirty photographs at all. They are beautiful photographs. What a rip-off - Edward Weston did better than that in 1939. You’ve got to have something to stimulate you I suppose. He likes to take photographs in front o f nude girls. He’s rich now and he’s going to get even richer. They seem to belong to a world and I ’ m standing outside them, a world to which I have no entrance as it were. He’s taking photography, not seriously, but using it for his own fantasies and that’s alright because they are unpretentious in certain ways. I think I ’d have to look at it about three or four times, but it would be a long time before I could form an opinion. I don’t think it ’s porno graphic though at all. The Sunday Times lead me to believe it was pornographic...that's what made me come here actually. To see Picasso’s daughter without a dress on I thought would be more pornographic than it was, and it wasn’t at all. Nothing at all. To me they are pretty much meaningless. I can’t really express myself about it very clearly but somehow I am a bit edgy about the fact that the man is basically a fashion photographer and he seems to be going away from what it should be. I think they are very decadent and the backgrounds he uses and the actual colur are very, very sick, and 1 like them because of that. They’re not pretending to be art -- they are one man’s fantasies and we can indulge in them simply because they are in exhibition form. I didn’t think they were too decadent. I felt a little guilty once or twice. I thought it was terrible. I thought it was sexist crap. There is no reason to do what he does except to make sexist images as far as I can see. It's not about photography; it's not about documentation. I don’t see that it is about anything except preserving his role in the We liked them quite a lot. I thought they were erotic for him, but not for me. Alternative Technology Terry Dennett We are often asked if there is any real altern ative to the yellow box company or Ilford or Agfa. The answer is a very big YES. Every year thousands of new ideas and methods arc suggested but only a few o f these find their way into the mass market: the rest arc allowed to lie unused in the pages of the abstract journals. Tlie reason for the use or non-use of an idea or product is often baser! on economic or market ing policy, rather than the technical value of the commodity to the photographer. In England today this increasingly means less choice at a period in history when there is photographically more and more available everywhere else. American visitors quickly discover the truth of this statement. No variable contrast paper, no Codelite enlarger heads (which enable one to deal in 12 contrast grades on one sheet of paper), no Selenium toner etc. This situation exists because of dependence on large corporations for research, manufacture, and for importation. It is an aim of the Half Moon Photography Workshop to end this dependence by providing a frame work in which alternative photo technology, research and development groups can work and publish information. This article is intended to help others with similar ideas to get together. If you have been working on your own. refining techniques or formulae: if you can build your own cameras and equipment, or know the photographic reference books inside out, we would lik e to hear from you NOW. Also those who possess few skills but do have the desire to be self-reliant. A G EN ERA L STRATEGY ALTERNATE PHOTO TECHNOLOGY FOR A T. does not mean making everything oneself. It means becoming self-reliant by acquiring the organisation, knowledge and technology to be capable of making anything when the need arises. We arc primarily photographers (people who make and use photographs). We study the craft aspects in order to gain more intimate understanding of the material potentials of photography (a potential which is diminishing due to the current lack of basic craft training and practice) and in order to develop precision, method and insight. A T. photography does not mean that every individual must become an emulsion chemist or a camera mechanic. It means that individuals with or without the required knowledge organize together in a group in order to make the material they need, research their subject in practice (and quite often add new or creative ideas in the process) and then publish the results for the benefit of others. Additionally it is essential to build up a communications network. With the estab lishment of the HMPW in its own building these aims can be brought to fu ll fruition. Meanwhile we can make a start by sharing infomation and establishing personal links. I f you are interested please contact us. A.T.also means getting together to import or bulk buy existing manufacturers’ products. I f you can't get any basic item, drop us a line (s.a.e. please). A.T. METHODS : ONE RA PID REVERSAL OF T R I X OR HP4 FOR BLACK & WHITE SLIDES In future issues we w ill bring you other original or little known methods. If you have anything to contribute please write. Rapid reversal systems have been known for some time but their use with conventional slow and medium speed emulsions often leads to a result with quite high contrast: which is unsuitable for general pictorial applications. An interesting exception to this is T R I X (or HP4). These films are inherently soft in contrast and possess a long tone scale which is not unduly distorted by the contrast inc rease produced during the reversal process. The following simplified technique has therefore been worked out to provide a quick method of making B & W slides which requires no more time or effort than is needed to process black and white negative film. The method has been designed for use with the commonly available Johnsons Contrast devel oper: other materials such as Ilford FF Contrast can also be used provided an adjustment is made in exposure and developing times. The first developer w ill process two 35mm films without loss of quality, the bleach and clearing baths may be used u n til their action is inconveniently slow. Refer to Jacobson’s ‘ Developing’ published by Focal Press for details of how to mix photographic chemicals and make solutions if you are not familiar with the procedure. This book also gives a good general background on the theory of reversal process. FILM SPEED TEST Reversal film has very little ‘latitude’ : exposure must therefore be correct (to half a stop with T R I X). This is achieved by setting the exposure meter to an E l (exposure index or A.S.A.rating) of 200 and then shooting a test strip from your largest to smallest aperture with the shutter speed remaining at the setting indicated for A.S.A. 200 with an aperture in the middle of the range. Process the strip o f film and note the best exposed frame. Check the exposure with your meter: it may be A.S.A. 200 or 160 or even 320 depending on the transmission of your lens, your exposure meter, and personal preferances for slide density and detail. Whatever it is, set this E.I.(A.S.A.) on your meter and then shoot correctly exposed slides thereafter. Rapidly reversed T R I X produces fine, softly graded slides in diffused daylight conditions. It is also good for copying prints or making inter mediate positive negatives for contact negative processes. The grain is also quite fine - try it and let us know how you get on. Any type of light can be used to re-expose the film. Try about 2/3 minutes with daylight, flourescent or tungsten. If the time is correct the film w ill fully blacken in the redeveloper in two minutes. I don’t like them a bit. 1don’t like that sort of pornography. I find it exploiting, nasty, evil, horrible - and I didn’t like the look of him either. PROCESSING SOLUTIONS First Developer: ....... lOOcc Johnsons Contrast Developer Water 900cc Potassium Thidcyanate 10% solution . . . 50cc Bleach Bath: Potassium Dichromate Water •Sulphuric Acid Cone. Water to make 12gms 750cc ............ 15cc , ,...1000cc •mix only in the above order - never add water to acid. Clearing Bath:^ Sodium Sulphite .........10% solution Re-developer: Any paper developer as per manufacturers instructions or use. Johnsons Contrast lOOcc Water SOOcc Fixer: Any fixer'at normal times for negatives. Try AMFIX'. /ST h-MtU AT 70*F £) 30 «C- Wa s h I () j 3 h/u If) 30 $ Be c a c h WASH I H tH ( ) fl detentk (iee tMcve) (f) 2 m»J (f) U/AStf ( ) 3osec P it 9 fa) k h i / j h a s h CHEM ICAL SUPPLIES The raw chemicals required may be obtained from: Melbourne Photographic, Norgetts Lane.Melbourn.Royston,Herts, or: Ray Colour Ltd., Rayco Works, Blackwater Way.Ash Road, Aldershot .Hants. Page 3 News HALF MOON EVENTS: Ju mble S a le and A u c t i o n w i l l ta k e p l a c e a t t h e H a l f Moon T h e a t r e on Sunday, 22nd F e b r u a r y , fr o m 3 p.m. o n w a rd s . A d m is s io n 50p - b u t t h i s amount w i l l be knock ed o f f y o u r f i r s t p u rc h a s e on p r o d u c t i o n o f e n t r y tic k e t. Thanks t o e v e ry o n e who has d o n ate d p r i n t s , e q u ip m e n t and m a t e r i a l s we now have a good amount o f j u m b l e and a l a r g e s e l e c t i o n o f o r i g i n a l p r i n t s - th o ug h we s t i l l need m ore. I f you w o u ld l i k e t o g i v e a n y t h i n g t o t h e j u m b l e s a l e p le a s e g e t i t t o us by 2 1 s t F e b r u a r y . O r, i f you want t o d o n a t e o r i g i n a l p r i n t s make s u re we have them one week b e f o r e t h e s a l e so t h a t th e y can be e x h i b i t e d a t the g a l l e r y . I f you want a n y t h i n g c o l l e c t e d , r i n g Mike a t th e w o rk s h o p o f f i c e - 01 k88 2535 . P r i n t S a le E x h i b i t i o n : a l l p r i n t s g i v e n f o r p r i n t a u c t i o n w i l l be e x h i b i t e d in t h e g a l l e r y fr o m 13t h 20th F ebruary. Next Show: t h i s i s by C l a i r e Schwob and w i l l c o n s i s t o f w o rk from h e r p r o j e c t on women (see c o v e r p i c t u r e ) . The o p e n in g p a r t y - on t h e same day as t h e Ju mble and P r i n t S a le - w i l l be on 22nd F e b r u a r y a t 2 p.m. S l i d e A r c h i v e : we have begun t h i s a rc h iv e w it h co p ie s o f a l l rece n t e x h ib it io n s a t the G a lle ry . W e want t o expend t h i s w i t h t h e w o rk o f contem porary B r i t i s h pho to g ra p he rs so t h a t we can b u i l d up a comprehen s i v e r e c o r d o f B r i t a i n w h ic h w i l l be a v a i l a b l e f o r loan (s ee s t a t e m e n t o f a im s ). I f you w o u ld l i k e t o s u b m it w o rk f o r i n c l u s i o n p le a s e c o n t a c t t h e •o rk s h o p . SOUTH ISLAND CHILDREN'S WORKSHOP ( P h o to g r a p h y G r o u p ) , a t South I s l a n d L i b r a r y , S o u th I s l a n d P l a c e , London, S.W.9- need v o l u n t e e r s f o r t h e i r s p r i n g and summer programme. W o rk in g w i t h k i d s o f a l l a g e s , i n d o o r s and o u t. We a l s o d e s p e r a t e l y need a g ard en shed t o r e - e r e c t i n d o o r s as a d a rk r o o m . Any o f f e r s t o Genevive D r a p e r - t e l : 01 582 1898. THE MUSEUM OF LONDON, soon t o move i n t o i t s new home a t th e B a r b i c a n , i s a n x io u s t o make t h e museum a c e n t r e f o r s t u d y and i n f o r m a t i o n on contem p o r a r y London (as w e l I as th e C a p ita l's p a s t). They hope t o b u i l d up t h e i r p h o t o g r a p h i c r e f e r e n c e c o l l e c t i o n as a m a jo r s o u rc e o f m a t e r i a l s . P h o t o g r a p h e r s w o r k i n g i n London who f e e l t h e y may be c o v e r i n g s u b j e c t s s u i t a b l e f o r t h e Museum s h o u ld con t a c t them so t h a t t h e y can have t h e i r w o r k vie w e d f o r p o s s i b l e i n c l u s i o n in t h e c o l 1e c t i o n . P r i n t s a r e s u p p l i e d t o t h e museum a t a b a s i c c o s t p r i c e ( i . e . between 50p and £1 ea ch ) and th e n go i n t o t h e i r r e f e r e n c e c o l l e c t i o n and a r e in dexed a c c o rd in g to s u b je c t a n d /o r topo g ra p h ic a l c o lle c t io n . The museum e x p e c t s t o be g r a n t e d p e r m i s s i o n t o use p h o to g r a p h s i n e x h i b i t i o n s , f r e e o f c h a r g e , c o p y r i g h t r e m a in in g w i t h the p h o to g ra p h e r. P ic tu re rese a r c h e r s can th e n have f r e e acc e s s t o t h e i r f i l e s and can make t h e i r own a rr a n g e m e n ts d i r e c t w i t h p h o t o g r a p h e r s f o r use o f p i c t u r e s . I f anybody i s i n t e r e s t e d p le a s e co n ta ct: O l i v e r Green, A s s i s t a n t Keeper Dra w in g s and P a i n t i n g s , c / o K e n s in g t o n P a la c e , London, W.8. t e l : 01 937 9816. VISUAL ARTS AWARDS In 1976 G r e a t e r London A r t s A s s o c i a t i o n w i l l be o f f e r i n g a t o t a l o f £6000 in awards o f £250 and £500 f o r wo rk in th e v i s u a l a r t s . A p p l i c a t i o n s a r e i n v i t e d fr o m : V i s u a l a r t i s t s w o r k i n g i n any medium and l i v i n g i n G r e a t e r London: t o en a b l e t h e a r t i s t t o s e t a s i d e t im e f o r c o n c e n t r a t e d w o rk a n d / o r t o p u rc h a s e m a te ria ls . A r t c r i t i c s and r e s e a r c h e r s in a r t s e r v i c e s l i v i n g in G r e a t e r London: t o e n a b l e a s p e c i f i c p r o j e c t t o be undertaken w h ic h , in t h e i r p re s e n t s i t u a t i o n , is not fe a s ib le . F u r t h e r i n f o r m a t i o n can be o b t a i n e d fr o m Caryn Faure W a lk e r , V i s u a l A r t s O f f i c e r , G r e a t e r London A r t s A s s o c i a t i o n , 25/31 T a v i s t o c k P l a c e , London WCIH 9SF. CHILDREN PHOTOGRAPHED. An i n v i t a t i o n by C h i l d r e n s R i g h t s Workshop and Ikon t o s u b m it p i c t u r e s f o r e x h i bi t i o n . IKON i s a d e s ig n and i l l u s t r a t i o n re s e a r c h s e r v ic e t o p u b lis h e r s w is h in g t o p ro d u c e books w h ic h make e x te n s iv e use o f v is u a l m a t e r ia l. The C h ild r e n s R ig h ts Workshop i s a s m a ll v o lu n t a r y a gency c o n c e rn e d to re a s s e s s th e m a t e r ia l, i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d e m o tio n a l c h o ic e s a v a ila b le t o c h ild r e n i n modern s o c ie t y . C h i l d r e n have been an a b s o r b in g sub j e c t f o r pho to g ra p he rs s in c e th e v e ry b e g i n n i n g s o f p h o to g r a p h y i t s e l f . In a l l p r o b a b i l i t y more p i c t u r e s have been ta k e n o f c h i l d r e n th a n o f any o t h e r group. a p p ro a c h e s o f i n d i v i d u a l p h o t o g r a p h e rs. We w i l l see how p h o to g r a p h y f o s t e r s , r e i n f o r c e s , o r even c r e a t e s c e r t a i n images o f c h i l d r e n and how, i n t u r n , th e r e p e t i t i o n o f t h e s e images becomes a new ' r e a l i t y ' and can even e s t a b l i s h a p p a r e n t norms. The e x h i b i t i o n i s t o t o u r th e r e g i o n s f o r two t o t h r e e y e a r s and w i l l be shown p r e d o m i n a n t l y in p u b l i c p la c e s such as s h o p p in g c e n t r e s , l i b r a r i e s , h o s p i t a l s and r a i l and bus s t a t i o n s . In t h i s way i t i s a n t i c i p a t e d t h a t i t w i l l be happened upon by a mass o f p e o p l e who w ould n o t o r d i n a r i l y v i s i t e x h i b i t io n s . Everyo ne p h o to g r a p h s c h i l d r e n i n a way p e c u l i a r t o th e m s e lv e s . But what do we know o f t h e v a r i e t y o f m o t i v a t i o n s w h ic h b r i n g t h e p h o t o g r a p h e r s and c h i l d r e n t o g e t h e r ? What do we know o f t h e v a r i e t y o f t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l methods o f appro a ch ? What a re t h e i r t h o u g h t s when t a k i n g th e p ic tu re s ? What a r e th e y t r y i n g t o show? How much m a n i p u l a t i o n , i f a n y , do th e y employ? How in v o l v e d do t h e y become w i t h th e c h i l d r e n ? L a s t l y , how i s i t t h a t two p h o t o g r a p h e r s , w o r k i n g in th e same s i t u a t i o n a t t h e same t i m e , w i l l t a k e two d i s t i n c t l y d i f f e r e n t se ts o f p ic tu re s ? A l l o f th e s e q u e s t i o n s have more t o do w i t h p e o p le th a n camera e q u ip m e n t. I t i s v a l u a b l e t o p r e s e n t and d i s c u s s t h e a p p ro a ch e s o f d i f f e r e n t p h o t o gra p h e rs to p h o to g ra p hing c h i l d r e n : t o p r e s e n t them in such a way t h a t p e o p l e can see what happens t o c h i l d ren in p h o t o g r a p h s , and how d i f f e r e n t ap p ro a c h e s can say d i f f e r e n t t h i n g s a b o ut c h i l d h o o d and c h i l d r e n , beyond t h e u s u a l f a c t o r s o f a e s t h e t i c s and te chnique. P h o t o g ra p h y p r e s e n t s t h e v ie w e r w i t h a c e r t a i n image o f c h i l d r e n , by s i n g l i n g o u t aspects o f t h e i r a p pear a n c e , b e h a v i o u r and s o c i a l c o n t e x t , i n w h ic h t h e p h o t o g r a p h e r has a vested i n t e r e s t . By p l a c i n g d i f f e . e n t p h o to g r a p h e r s ' w o rk o f c h i I d r e n a l o n g s i d e th o s e rep r o d u c e d in magaz i n e s , books and p o s t e r s , t h e e x h i b i t i o n w i l l d e m o n s t r a t e t h a t i t is n o t o n l y th o s e p h o to g r a p h s w i t h a s o c i a l commentary o r p o l i t i c a l o r moral p o i n t t h a t have messages. A l l p h o to g r a p h s c o n t a i n s o c i a l messages, e x p l i c i t o r h i d d e n , and a l l p h o to g r a p h s o f c h i l d r e n convey messages a b o u t c h i l d r e n i n s o c i e t y . The e x h i b i t i o n w i l l d e m o n s t r a t e t h a t t h e r e a re s e v e r a l k in d s o f ' r e a l i t y ' . T here is th e r e a l i t y o f t h e s i n g l e image; o f two images in j u x t a p o s i t i o n ; o f a s e r i e s o f images ( w h e th e r i t be a p h o to sequence o r g r o u p o f p i c t u r e s ) and f i n a l l y t h e r e a l i t y t o be fo u nd in v i e w i n g a l o n g s i d e each o t h e r th e work o f v a r io u s p h o to g ra p he rs . Such an o v e r - v i e w w i l l le a d us to w a rd s r e e v a l u a t i n g th e v a r y i n g s t y l e s and Phase 2 o f o u r p r o j e c t , now in p r o g r e s s , i s t o document how c h i l d r e n u n d er 5 a r e c a re d f o r in Hack ney, in o r d e r t o be u s e f u l t o l o c a l and n a t i o n a l campaigns a g a i n s t C u t s , and as p a r t o f th e W o rk in g Women's C h a r t e r Campaign. W th e n aim t o e go on and document what happens t o g i r l s l e a v i n g s c h o o l , and what happens t o women i n Hackney when th e y a re t o o o l d t o w o r k . We s t i l l need more p e o p le t o h e l p us. I f you a r e i n t e r e s t e d p l e a s e c o n t a c t M ic h a e l Ann M u l le n a t 7 A r c h i b a l d Road, London, N-7- t e l : 01 607 k728. The g ro u p meets r e g u l a r l y and a re now t a k i n g p h o to g r a p h s . W aim t o e p ro d u c e b l a c k and w h i t e s t i l l s , p l u s a ta p e and s l i d e show. A s l i d e show of W OMEN AT WORK IN HACKNEY, i n c l u d i n g unequal pay s t a t i s t i c s , i s now a v a i l a b l e f o r h i r e from Ms. Joanna Spence, 152 Upper S t r e e t , London, N . l . - t e l : 01 226 0367- The keen and w e a l t h y V i c t o r i a n s re c o r d e d them w i t h t h e s t i f f f o r m a l i t y imposed, in p a r t , by t h e r u d i m e n t a r y e q u ip m e n t . F ra n k S u t c l i f f e shocked s o c i e t y w i t h h i s 'W a te r R a t s ' (nude boys b a t h i n g in th e sea a t W h itb y ). The p i o n e e r i n g o f Lewis H in e g r a p h i c a l l y i l l u s t r a t e d t h e r e a l w o r l d o f c h i l d la b o u r down t h e c o a l m in e s . In more r e c e n t t im e s we have become accustomed t o e d i t o r i a l and a d v e r t i s i n g f e a t u r e s , based on p h o t o g ra p h s o f c h i l d r e n , in th e mass c i r c u l a t i o n newspapers ana m ag a z in e s . A l o n g s i d e a l l t h i s has been t h a t s e l f p e r p e t u a t i n g s o c i a l d o c u m e n t, and s o u rc e o f e n d le s s d o m e s t ic f u n , th e f a m i l y s n a p s h o t a lb u m , t r a c i n g g e n e r a tio n s o f people. Tod a y, th o u g h t h e r e a r e fe w e r j o u r n a l s b e in g p u b l i s h e d , t h e r e a r e p r o b a b l y more p i c t u r e s b e in g ta k e n o f c h i l d r e n th a n e v e r b e f o r e . W h atever c a t e g o r y is g iv e n to the ph o to g ra p he rs - p r o f e s s i o n a l , am ateur, m oth e r, f a t h e r , s i s t e r , b r o t h e r , g r a n , g ra n d a d , o r f r i e n d , each t a k e s p i c t u r e s fr o m t h e i r own v i e w p o i n t , e x p r e s s i n g in th o s e p i c t u r e s t h e i r own f e e l i n g s and u n d e r s ta n ding s o f c h ild r e n . THE HACKNEY FLASHERS COLLECTIVE (we go a ro u n d e x p o s in g t h i n g s ) i s a g r o u p o f women p h o t o g r a p h e r s , g ra p h ic a r t i s t s , d e s ig n e rs , s t a t i s t i c i a n s e t c . , who have a l r e a d y d o c u m e n t in g w o r k i n g women in Ha ckn ey. The e x h i b i t i o n now needs l a m i n a t i n g and p e r m a n e n t ly m o u n t in g so t h a t i t can t r a v e l . To do t h i s we need a t l e a s t £200. Can anyone h e l p us? S u b m is s io n s f o r t h e e x h i b i t i o n a r e welcome fr o m a n y b o d y , o f any a g e , i n c l u d i n g c h i l d r e n , f a m i l i e s and :0 p l e w o r k i n g in g r o u p s , w h ic h must nave been t a k e n w i t h i n t h e p a s t f i v e y e a rs i n t h e B r i t i s h I s l e s . C e a d lin e f o r s u b m is s i o n o f p h o to g r a p h s i s F r i d a y A p r i l 23rd 1976. The o pen in g d a t e o f t h e e x h i b i t i o n is September 1976 and w i l l be a t th e Shaw T h e a t r e L i b r a r y , London. CHILDREN PHOTOGRAPHED d e t a i l s f o r s u b m is s i o n o f p r i n t s (do n o t send p h o to g r a p h s i n i t i a l l y ) f r o m : CRW/IKON, 190 G osw ell Road, London, E .C .I. t e l : 01 253 8215 o r 01 703 7217. IMAGES OF W OMEN NEWSLETTER. T h is in c l u d e s d e t a i l s o f p e o p le w o r k in g on t h i s s u b j e c t , w h e re a b o u ts o f s l i d e s , p o s te r s , v ie w in g f a c i l i t i e s , access t o e q u ip m e n t . I f you want a copy send I2 p t o A n g e la M a r t i n , Base m en t, k C h a m b e r la in S t r e e t , London, N .W .I. (phone 01 722 0395 o r - d a y no. i s A37 k355 x 118). A d ria n J. B r e g a z z i, T re n t P o ly te c h n ic , u e p a r tm e n t o f P h o t o g r a p h y , is r e s e a r c h i n g i n t o "Th e p l a c e o f R o b e rt F ra n k in th e d e v e lo p m e n t o f t h e p h o t o g r a p h i c d o c u m e n t" . I f anybody has a n y t h i n g t o c o n t r i b u t e pe rh a p s th e y w o u ld g e t in to u c h d i r e c t w i t h him a t T r e n t P o l y t e c h n i c , Dryden S t r e e t , N o t t in g h a m , NGI kBU. No p h o t o g r a p h i c p i c t u r e t h a t e v e r was ta k e n i n heaven o r e a r t h , o r in th e w a t e r s u n d e r n e a t h th e e a r t h , o f a n y t h i n g , o r s c e n e , however d e f e c t i v e when measured by an a r t i s t i c s c a l e , i s d e s t i t u t e o f a s p e c i a l , and what we may c a l l an h i s t o r i c , i n t e r e s t . E v e ry fo rm w h ic h i s t r a c e d by l i g h t is t h e i m p r e s s io n o f one moment, o r one h o u r , o r one age i n t h e g r e a t passage o f t i m e . E l i s a b e t h , Lady E a s t l a k e in ' Q u a r t e r l y Re v ie w ' 1857 P h o t o j o u r n a l i s t s , whose j o b i t i s t o lo o k f o r r i o t s and t r a i n w r e c k s , and o f t e n a r r i v e a t t h e sce ne i n v i b r a t i n g camera s h a k in g w h i r 1e y b i r d s , a r e t u r n in g t o t h e m o to r d r i v e . These p ro s must have a camera th e y can t r u s t t o g i v e them t h e s p l i t second a c t i o n o f a m o to r d r i v e no n a t t e r how h o s t i l e t h e e n v i r o n m e n t . In t h e i r b u s i n e s s , t h e r e i s no excuse f o r a m is sed p i c t u r e . . . .These p h o t o g r a p h e r s t r a v e l l e d a l l o v e r t h e w o r l d on P r e s i d e n t i a l m is s io n s , to in t e r n a t io n a l co n fe re n c e s , w a r s , d i s a s t e r s and s n o r t i n ' e v e n ts ‘ A a v e r t is e m e n c The OTHER Cinema i s t r y i n g t o r a i s e money to w a rd s o p e n in g a new cinema w h ic h w i l l be co n c e rn e d w i t h a ' s o c i a l ' o r ' c r i t i c a l ' a p p ro a c h t o f i l m , as opposed t o ' c o m m e r c i a l ' cinema o r ' a r t ' cin e m a . They a r e p l a n n i n g t o h o ld s e m in a r s and co n f e r e n c e s t o d i s c u s s f i l m s , media and c u l t u r e in g e n e r a l . The B . F . I . has p ro m is e d £ 1 7 ,5 0 0 p r o v i d e d The OTHER Cinema can match i t . They have a l r e a d y fo u n d a p o t e n t i a l b u i l d in g i n C h a r l o t t e S t r e e t , London, W .1. so p le a s e h u r r y and send d o n a t i o n s t o them a t 12/13 L i t t l e Newport S t r e e t London, W.C.2. Or i f you want f u r t h e r i n f o r m a t i o n c o n t a c t Pamela Engel o r N i c k H a r t - W i l l i a m s on 01 73k 8508. SCAN - a new f i l m magazine SCAN w i l l s e r v e as an e x c h a n g e / s h o w c a s e / p l a t f o r m f o r anyone u s in g f i l m who needs c o n t a c t s / f i n a n c e / feedback. By a d i s p l a y o f j o t t i n g s , b l u e p r i n t s , c r e d o s , schem ata, sce n a r i o s , s t o r y b o a r d s and s t i l l s - in e f f e c t th e ' w o r k i n g s ' o f f i l m p r o j e c t s - r e a d e r s w i l l be o f f e r e d a c l e a r s i g h t o f th e m o t iv e s and p r a c t i c e s o f f i l m - m a k e r s and p h o t o g r a p h e r s (we in t e n d t o s u b s c r i b e t o a more co m p re h e n s iv e c o n c e p t o f * f i 1m u s e r ' ) . C opie s o f SCAN a r e a v a i l a b l e from K e i t h Kennedy, 13 K y r l e Road, London, S . W . I I . a t 20p (25p i n c p £ p ) . In te n d in g c o n t r i b u t o r s a r e a d v is e d t o examine SCAN I b e f o r e s u b m i t t i n g m a t e r i a l f o r t h e new i s s u e . SCAN 2 w i l l be d e v o te d t o ' F i l m i n E d u c a t i o n ' F u r t h e r i n f o r m a t i o n from G i n n i e A t k i n s o n , John M i t c h e l l , J i n i R a w lin g s o r Graham Sowter - day 01 801 1235 ex 13 ( a s k f o r SCAN). " L e t ' s Make a F i l m " F e s t i v a l . London Co-op E d u c a t io n D e p a rt m e n t, 129 Seven S i s t e r s Road, London, N.7- a re o r g a n i s i n g a n a t i o n a l young p e o p l e ' s film fe s tiv a l. C lo s in g d a te f o r a p p l i c a t i o n s i s March 1 s t 1976. W rite t o t h e Deputy E d u c a t io n S e c r e t a r y a t above a d d re s s f o r e n t r y fo rm s and d e ta ils . The f i c t i o n i s a l r e a d y t h e r e , th e w r i t e r ' s ta s k is t o in v e n t the re a li ty . J . G. B a l l a r d I t ' s e s s e n t i a l t o u n d e rs ta n d t h a t o u r e x h i b i t i o n i s n o t a b o u t a r c h it e c t u r e . I t ' s n o t n e c e s s a r ily a b o u t town p la n n in g . - LARRY HERMAN I d o n 't see m y s e lf a s a p h o to g ra p h e r as s u c h . I j u s t happen t o use t h i s t o o l . - RON McCORMICK I am n o t s u re any m ore w h e th e r yo u s h o u ld make c o n c lu s iv e s ta te m e n ts . NICK HEDGES Page 4 “Well, its a nice beginning!” Photography is always being reborn. Fresh green shoots break through the gravestones o f the big magazines, avoiding the blunt scythe o f television and shrinking advertising budgets. A new generation o f photographers appear. Most have never worked fo r a magazine or newspaper or taken an advertising photograph. They think o f themselves as documentary photographers or photojournalists, hut their craft deserves a new>name - com munity photo graphy. Unimpressed by editorial authority or deadlines, they like to spend a long rime living with the people they photograph. They reject the fly-in, fly-out coverage o f the photo journalist. The best lack scientific detachment o f the docum entary which preserved the patina o f poverty on large camera or slow film. Community photographers do not steal pictures. Through economy and faith, they are opposed to the aggressive magazine or agency photog rapher hung around with half a dozen cameras. How did it happen? Ron McCormick: Originally the RTPI (Royal Town Planning Institute) just wanted a set of pictures for their annual conference and they’d seen a set on Oldham that’s in a book and asked for them. I think this was about a year before their conference. I thought about it for a month. Decided it would be nice to do some thing new, something fresh, went and put the idea to them and they were keen. I spent a few weeks thinking about it. Talked to Larry and to Nick and we went back to them and said we would like to look at the nature o f the urban environment and how people were living in cities. Nick Hedges: Ron was at a wedding and also at the wedding was the President o f the Royal Town Planning Institute. He got chatting to her and sold the idea of doing it. He very generous ly decided that he couldn't do it by himself and at that time our bigger group o f seven or eight people had folded up and we were looking for something that we could do as a group and he suggested this. That’s really the bare bones of it. Her presidential year ended at this annual conference in Bristol which is where the exhib ition was on first of all. The theme of her presidential year had been ‘Problem in the City’. The other thing that was interesting to me is that they didn't really want to know what we were going to say. No interest at all. until actually it was done. Completely open brief, no suggestions as to what we should photograph. I rather regretted that in some ways, I mean it’s all very well working in a completely open way, you then begin to wonder if they are really interested. What was the altitude o f the Royal Town Plan ning Institute? Ron McCormick: They had a certain amount of faith in me because they’d invited me, they’d seen my pictures. I said I’d like to do something new about the cities, very abstract at that stage, but a completely new exhibition and I’d also like to bring in a couple o f other photographers. I said it would cost them money which it wasn't going to do before. Did you just go to them with the final package, or were they sort o f talking to you all along? Ron McCormick: All along, really, it grew. I mean the second stage was after they accepted that it was going to cost them money which it wasn’t going to before. The three of us sat down then and drafted out a synopsis, there was about six pages or something, a synopsis for the exhibition broken down into headings and areas of concern within the exhibition with some quotes, textual quotes, and we also gave them a portfolio o f photographs, about a dozen photo graphs which we said would be the sort o f pic ture which we saw in the exhibition, the way we could see it developing. So they had quite a big package and we, at the same time, drafted out a budget o f some sort, which in fact turned out to be half the final budget and which they accept ed. That was about fifteen hundred. Half the budget which they had to pay ? Ron McCormick: It was an underestimate. How did you estimate it? Ron McCormick: Just roughly through our own experience. A sort of rough fee for ourselves which we increased later, some sort o f notional estimate of film stock, travelling expenses and mounting expenses. This came to about £1,500. The whole way the project was funded just didn’t allow any of us to work on it full time. It took a lot of our time. Out of a year it sort of In Britain they are financed by grants to 'social ly aware' photographers from business, the Arts Council, Regional Arts Associations, charities and a few courageous professional institutes. Money is available fo r com munity photography, part o f the move to 'thinking small '. ‘Problem in the City’ was produced by Ron McCormick, Nick Hedges and Larry Herman for last year’ annual conference o f the Royal Town s Planning Institute. In 32 targe panels it boldly combines photographs with quotes from books, newspapers, government reports and interviews. The pictures were taken in many cities and locations including Clydeside, the South Coast, Greater London. Merseyside, West Midlands. Tyneside and South Wales. When this important exhibition arrived at the Institute o f Contemporary Arts in London. Tom Picton went to talk to the photographers. He spoke to Ron McCormick and Larry Herman together, followed by Nick Hedges. As he asked them the same questions, ice have combined the answers. ate up about five or six months solid for each of us. For that we got £1.200 between three o f us from the RTPI. £400 for six months' work. Did that include all the mounting? Ron McCormick: No. that was on top. That was a straight fee. The way we budgeted it was a straight fee. plus all expenses on the top o f it. The total cost o f the exhibition was £2,700. That was all in ? Ron McCormick: Of which £1.200 went to us. So who did pay fo r it in the end? Nick Hedges: It was paid for by the Royal Town Planning Institute and by the Arts Council. The Arts Council made a grant to the RTPI for the purposes of a photographic exhibition. Do you know how much they gave? Nick Hedges: Not off hand. I think it was something like seven-five hundred pounds. Letchworth Garden City gave two fifty, so the RTPI had to find about fifteen hundred, I think, or maybe a bit less than that. I don't know. So what did Letchworth Garden City get out o f it all? Nick Hedges: They had a few photographs of Letchworth Garden City in the exhibition. Ron McCormack: There were certain actions which we took right at the beginning which es tablished a freedom for us which was quite im portant. This was very important to actually have that freedom, to make a statement, which they necessarily weren't going to accept and to get them to pay for it, needed a hell o f a lot of organising and good faith. From what y o u ’ve been saying. / gather you had no constraints from the Town Planning Institute? Ron McCormick: Absolutely none at all. Larry Herman: While we were editing and shooting, we did on a couple of occasions show the RTPI the photographs. Our working rela tionship with the RTPI was fine, wasn't some thing we presented to them at the end and they said, ‘Christ, look what they've done.' It wasn't like that. I feel very friendly towards them. It's essential to understand that this exhibition is not about architecture. It’s not necessarily about town planning, but basically it's about the people who are affected by these two orienta tions. these two pursuits - town planning and architecture. Ron McCormick: That’s right. It's very much about the link in between - this is the people and this is the nature of the environment they live in and how they have to come to terms with it. how they live within it and the things that are good and the things that are bad. Larry Herman: By and large these new projects.lhese new developments are jerry-built. They’re not going to last. They’re built to make profits for the next generation of developers. Ron McCormick: Very important. They're also built without any real understanding of quality of environment. Look at the Red Road flats in Glasgow. Can you honestly tell me that much thought was put into quality o f environment for people who live on the thirtieth floor, or down on the ground? Larry Herman: The thing is you see that under lining development in this country is the profit motive. Underlining, directly, vast sums of money have been made. One o f the captions says, at the top end o f the pile, a hundred men have shared over £400 million. This is what motivates this country. It's tempered from time to time by liberalism and a Christian conscience perhaps - for want of a better expression - but it’s profit making. It’s capitalism, and this is what’s the sickness o f this society. This exhibi tion is one more agitational effort. All over this country people are becoming aware. I f i t ‘ an agitprop exercise, why do you show it s in a place like the ICA ? Larry Herman: Basically for two reasons. One reason is that the ICA hanging here was done with the people involved in town planning and architecture and government. We would hope that they would come. Give them an opportun ity. But the exhibition is going to tour for a couple o f years and it's going to tour all over the country. In that time it’s going to give an op portunity for people who are not professional town planners to see the exhibition and to show them that this is what three photographers have discovered. I went into this exhibition because o f certain orientation, certain political orienta tion, but I discovered many things about this, about new housing and old established housing and essentially I discovered that people for the first time in our generation, at least, are articu lating this great separation between them and the people who govern them, make the rules. And I think this is happening on the shop floor, and is also happening in individual communities at a very, very local level, street organisations beginning in this country for the past four or five years, and this is a start. And I think it’s just a matter o f time before people, you know, demand democracy in this country. At the moment people don't have democracy, they live under an oligarchy, certainly not a democracy. Ron McCormick: Do you think. Tom. that there would be somewhere else better to have shown this exhibition? The problem is always who actually sees what you do. I f you produce a radical magazine, who is reading it? Ron McCormick: In that sense. I think this is probably one o f the best places that we could show it at, because it’s one of the few places that architects and planners deem worth visiting. The number of architects’ shows they put on here, the number o f symposiums and archi tectural debates. We very much had this in mind. Does the ICA < Institute o f Contemporary Arts, London) hire it out ? Ron McCormick: The ICA hung the show for nothing and they produced posters, gave the space and we organised the crates and had it all mounted up and it’s all coated in plastic so it can’t come to much harm so it’s all light and easy to hang. And the ICA now tour it at a basic cost to cover transport, insurance and the cost of producing posters. They've taken it over, have they? Ron McCormick: We asked them to take it over. By showing it here was a way o f getting someone to take it over. It was one of those delicate negotiations. They’re going to deal with the administration. We just forget it. We’re photographers. We don’t want to spend our time lugging this thing around and hanging it. Tlie ICA can do it. What do you think putting text, as you have, adds to the exhibition? Larrv Herman: I think it breaks down one as pect o f the drawback of photography, being simply visual. People use words, people might think conceptually in images, but communicate in words. And I think that, perhaps besides from music - which is considerably universal words are much more viable means of communi cation in many ways and combining the photo graphy and text sort of overcomes this draw back to photography. One o f the interesting things, one o f the things that editors have always said about photography is that i t ’ difficult to edit your own pictures. s That one o f the great arguments with the jour nalistic magazines is that you had to separate the functions o f photographer, writer and editor. For example, i f a photographer had bled to get a particular picture, he didn t particularly want that one thrown out. But you did the whole process. Ron McCormick: We’re very aware o f the whole editing process. That produced dilemma after dilemma, not just as we were actually shooting and going through it, all that, but then in terms o f what aspect we were going to explore further. But when it actually came, we had all the pictures there on the floor, -we actually di vided them into two piles, good pictures and not-so-good pictures. How did you gel to that stage ' Ron McCormick: We went through each other’s contacts, pointed out things that we thought were...If I suddenly saw on Larry’s contacts a picture which I thought had a place in the exhib ition and he hadn't printed that. I’d say. ‘Well. Page 5 Interview can we see that?’ And we just built up until we had about a thousand proof prints. Larry Herman: The main thing was that we didn't edit these things by ourselves. We edited with three different people. And I assure you that we did fall out. did have arguments. Three different people, do you mean three other...? Ron McCormick and Larry Herman: No. Among ourselves. Larry Herman: And we did disagree and we did agree. I mean, all these pictures, maybe less than a handful we all agreed, this picture, not that it was a good image, but because it was a good image because it was placed in context. And it was very much of the group working together and editing each other. We saw each of our contacts and proofs, talked... Ron McCormick: The editing process was quite a valuable experience for us. We ended up with a pile of about a hundred what we thought were acceptable pictures, and this other much bigger pile of practically rejects. Three piles. One pile of rejects was just out. the second pile o f practi cally rejects, and we might go to them if we need, and we found that through editing, actual ly having to illustrate a concept, we were contin ually having to go to what we didn’t consider as being good pictures. Because in those piles were pictures that illustrated a point. What is it that makes a good picture? Is it some sort of high blown. almost line-art aesthetic or is it a criteria that is determined by its illustrative capacity? We ended up by having to use pictures on many different levels. Some levels, the pictures stood on their own right, sometimes didn't even need captions, didn't need any sort of text references at all. In other cases, they worked very well with another picture, two pictures together. And in the third case in which photographs were almost used as punctuation to extend an idea to another section. We didn’t use them just because they were pictures in their own right and they could stand on their own. they acted as some sort of link. They were like the ‘ands’, the ‘ifs’, and the 'huts’ that one would use in a sentence. How were these panels put together? Ron McCormick: These early panels are very broad conglomeration o f city images. They begin to talk about people. They begin to talk about how people live in their environment. An other point o f view that I think is quite impor tant that we should make, we never actually saw any difference between the text and the pic tures. We always saw the text and the pictures working on parallel lines, one complementing the other. Larry Herman: Not illustrating the other. Ron McCormick: Not illustrating and neither one or the other having predominance. So we hope that when the people go around, not only are they struck by the images, but they actually spend time looking at the text and reading it. It makes a very strong political point then under pins what is being said in the pictures and vice versa. The two work hand in hand. It’s not a question of a whole page of text and you have a little picture up in the corner. Both the text and the photographs have equal validity in our eyes. Who laid it out? Did you lay it out on a floor or on a table? Ron McCormick: Yes. What we did was we took over this warehouse and built within it a huge room, so that we had plenty o f wall space to actually use. plenty of floor space. We took all the pictures there with all the text and we worked out some sort of rough skeleton for the exhibition in terms o f concept, idea, and then began to break the pictures up into those areas so that these pictures were defin itely in the introduction, so that these pic tures were definitely in the council estates. So you were separating into panels or spreads? Ron McCormick: More into subjects, into spreads, and the number of panels which went into each spread. Did you work out each /ranel and then finally work out the order o f panels? Ron McCormick: No. No. no, no. We worked out the order of the spread as it were. What we wanted to start with and what we wanted to finish with. What we wanted to say. at the beginning, what we wanted to say at the end. And how we went about it in between. And then, very abstractly, broke up the pictures .into that sort o f order and the text. We ended up with lots and lots of piles all the way along the floor, all round the room. How concrete were these sub-categories ? Ron McCormick: They became, within a week or so. they became very concrete. Can volt sat what they were.' Ron McCormick: First of all was an intro duction. general view of the city, relationship between people, and environment, then we looked at the problem, the sort of heritage within the city. Then we looked at the muni cipal response to solving the problem, council estate and New Town and that sort of thing. Then we went onto the new city, the overall planning. We then went to finance and poli tics, business interests, on the planning pro cess. We then went into how that affected the new city centre. From that we went onto I think social services as a municipal way o f deal ing with stress and the whole problems gen erated by living in the cities, living in mass groups. Larry Herman: And also stress derived from town planning. Ron McCormick: And then we went back into an area which we called village in the city, which we saw as a natural way that people have o f dealing with the problems of living in a city, o f living in large groups, large communities. They sort of focus down and they build a small community o f corner shop and small neighbour hood, a few streets. How long did it lake to make the exhibition? Nick Hedges: I .think our first meetings were in something like November 74. We realised that we would have to stop shooting pictures in about March or April to be ready in time. You could say that, discussion in November, shooting pictures through to April, and then just the physical business of putting together, editing through all this material we’d got, and that took about two months from April to June, from the end of April to the beginning of June, to as semble the material, be mounted, and the conference, the deadline was the middle of June. June the thirteenth, I think. Ron McCormick: It took a year from beginning to end with about six months setting it up. How many days do you think you actually did each ? Ron McCormick: It would be very difficult to determine that. Larry Herman: When we stopped shooting and were simply editing, we were putting in thir teen. fourteen hour days, fifteen hour days sometimes. Ron McCormick: From nine in the morning, nine, ten o’clock in the morning to after midnight. Larry Herman: And that went on for about four or five weeks. Ron McCormick: There is an element of pro test in the exhibition, the whole concept of the exhibition - we’re saying, look we have a right to contribute to the planning of our cities, that’s what the exhibition is about. By doing the exhibition we’re actually taking part in the planning process. We’re actually talking with planners, by doing it for them, by presenting it for them, by putting the ex hibition on at their annual conference, by going along and talking to them, and we gave a paper and we explained that. Nick Hedges: That’s why I have reservations about my own, our own, exhibition. It’s a generalised statement, not a statement of specifics. If you can be specific about things, then you run the risk of being specific about the wrong thing, but that's up to you, but what you don’t run the risk of is missing things out, you can put in everything... Ron McCormick: In town planning terms, it doesn't go far enough, if s not radical enough for town planners. For many town planners it’s saying the things that lots of people have said to them time and time again. But this is part of the schizophrenic nature of the exhibition. It’s not just talking to town planners, it’s also talking to people as well. And because it is, ifs in a funny middle road situation. If anything, ifs sort of populist exhibition. It’s too easy. Ifs trying to please, not please, ifs trying to speak to too many people. Nick Hedges: What I do think is important is to be specific in documentary photography, deal with one thing very hard, which I think is why Phillip Jones Griffith’s book about Vietnam is so good. Larry Herman: The reason why this exhibi tion works so well is that we understood very well exactly what we wanted to do. We went ahead and did it. This is not to say that we didn’t change along the way but essentially weunderstood what we wanted to do. Ron McCormick: It’s very much a matter of discipline. As a photographer you either work on your own. exploring your own responses to the world, and making essentially personal state ments about your situation and your situation within the world or you work with other people and you make general comments and statements Page 6 Continued.... about the world, they are generally acceptable, generally understood - whether they're accept able or not is another matter. Up until now the newspaper and the magazine provided an outlet for that area, sa
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorTony Bock, Terry Dennett, Mike Goldwater, Janet Goldberg, Neil Gulliver, Dave Hoffman, Cal Johnson, Marilyn Dalick-Noad, Tom Picton, Joanna Spence, Paul Trevor, Wal
      • author_writerTerry Dennett, Dave Hoffman, Tom Picton, Margaret Murray, Paul Carter, Keith Kennedy
      • author_photographerMark Edwards, Richard Greenhill, Robbie Clark, Teresa Shine, Danny Hayes, Michael McDonagh, Alan Fitzgerald, Tina Regan, John Roche, James Klugman
      • author_designer Haseley (Illustrator), Ralph Steadman (Cartoonist)
      • author_intervieweeMark Edwards, Clive Baylis, Robbie Clark, Teresa Shine, John Ryan, James Hatcher, Mike Parchment, Blackfriars young photography group
      • author_organisationSunday Times Magazine (Front Cover Oct 5)
      • tagswar & conflict,third world,documentary,war,poverty,mark edwards,photo-journalism,community photography,violence,death,imperialism,colonialism,colleges,amateur photography,blackfriars settlement,blackfriars young photography group,'doing photography',photography libraries,photography archives
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 02
      • subtitleIssue 2: Doing Photography War Photojournalism Third World
      • dimension9 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Terry Dennett, Dave Hoffman, Tom Picton, Margaret Murray, Paul Carter, Keith Kennedy, Mark Edwards, Richard Greenhill, Robbie Clark, Teresa Shine, Danny Hayes, Michael McDonagh, Alan Fitzgerald, Tina Regan, John Roche, James Klugman, Clive Baylis, John Ryan, James Hatcher, Mike Parchment, Blackfriars young photography group, Haseley (Illustrator), Ralph Steadman (Cartoonist), Sunday Times Magazine
      • credits
      • relatedTony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2017/03/02/tony-bocks-east-end/ Tony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2013/03/24/tony-bocks-farewell-to-the-east-end/ Tony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2013/03/16/tony-bocks-east-enders/
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1,2) New York, USA. Pakistan. Nepal. Thailand. South Korea. India. Africa. Denmark. Bangladesh (pg 3) Vietnam. Lebanon. Angola. Ireland (pg 4-6) Blackfriars, London, UK
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      • origination_date1976
      • origination_year1976
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:57:27
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      • pdf_textTwo "Special Constables" 1926 General Strike courtesy James KlugmanCollection Doing Photography War Photojournalism Third World No 2 i Half Moon Photography Workshop April/May 1976 20p Central Park. New York City 1975 Mark Edwards: Thoughts of a Third World Photograper Since leaving Guildford School o f Art. Mark Edwards has worked in the Third World, mainly for 'People', quarterly magazine o f the Inter­ national Planned Parenthood Federation. He has also attended world conferences in Bucharest, Rome. Mexico City and will shortly go to Vancouver. At present, he is producing a book about a commune in Denmark and has re­ cently been to New York (above). Although he gets paid less in two weeks than an advertising photographer can make in a day. Mark Edwards shows it is still possible to travel to unromantic places. Tom Picton talked to Mark Edwards for CAMERAWORK. Extracts : It was a really exhausting trip because we were working right o ff the plane. We did a whole lot in one day. It was Pakistan, then Nepal, then Thailand, then South Korea. Everything foll­ owed, one after the other and it was like work­ ing all hours o f daylight every day. Only four weeks, and that was the other thing, it was really compressed. It wasn’ like the first time t I went to India. I took a year and a half for the trip. One o f th?extraordinary things. We were in a village in Nepal. It was a very difficult walk to get there, it was very high up. The next day we were on some Pan Am Round-the-World jet on the way to some airport. It really was extraordinary. Very confusing actually. It builds up because we were going in different directions. That village in Nepal really struck me as being like a Medieval village would be anywhere - in the West even - I mean it just got into using iron, but only just. 1 was going to say no system o f government. But there was internally, but someone was murdered there a girl, I think, o f about 14, and all the girls o f about that age left the next day because they were all frightened. Those kinds o f things kept happening when we were there. Quite a brutal place, actually. 1 landed in Katmandu with the writer and I think we spent a couple odd days there. The issues that we were actually reporting on were how contraceptives and education - health education - can be disseminated to people who don ’ read and write and really have their life t cut out just to stay alive in fact. What we were trying to do was to show what the prob­ lems are o f bringing this kind o f technology into what is virtually a Medieval society. Sud­ denly you go in there and say “ Look, there are too many people. You have to do something about it. Y ou’ going to starve. There’not re s going to be enough land, not enough foo d ” . And you try to present the problem. We were just trying to show what the situation - even in the field - is like. What the people are like. What the environment is like. What the people feel about the whole thing and all the rest o f it. So the photo story was to just try to show as intimately as is possible in such a short time what it is like out there. What the daily routine is like. What we did was to walk up to this village and at that time John had dysentery and I had flu, and we had to climb very high up. Almost to the point that we couldn't breathe, cou ldn ’get t enough oxygen, but I remember we got to this village before it got dark, and we were with John Carr who is a nurse and who has been out there for a long time. We got into this weird little Nepali hut. and there were all these guys sitting around and chatting away in very low voices. Sitting around this fire - the smoke completely filled the room. And both o f us are lying there, sick as dogs. It seemed to carry on all night, and early the next morning they were still there, still talking away. Anyway they got up, and I went out with the camera and started walking around the village and just quietly, as quietly as possible, try to show the routine o f the village. Its a very constant amount o f work that people have to do. It doesn't seem to make much difference what the seasons are. It probably is harder during the planting, but it seems to be pretty constant in my experience. And again, if you ’ feeling sick, re as most people are, and by that time we were as well. I went up to another village. I went with a Nepalese guy who spoke a bit o f English. Some­ one coming from that village said that there was an outbreak o f some illness, and everyone was dying. In fact, they w eren’ When we got there t. what it was was a funeral- celebrations going on for several days, and everybody was drunk. It was extraordinary actually. They were all crammed into one room and drinking away like mad and looking terribly happy. Shining faces I remember. What one hopes will emerge - and very quickly out in these countries, it doesn't seem like there’ very much time. Would be a much s broader attitude towards the whole situation. We’ got to be responsible for what we’ ve re doing here - w e’ all on the planet you know. re In India and the Third World, people actually feel the pain o f not having enough food. Its the heat and the uncomfortable climate and the appalling work in the field. T here’an idea that s village life is wonderful - you ’ close to God re to nature, but that’ a totally romanticised view s o f it. T here’ fear in p eop le’ faces in the s s villages because the w ater’bad and the children s are dying. The work is abominable for half the year. To be out there in the hot sun and weed the rice by hand - now they’ using chemicals re to do this. Its wiped out the fish in the rivers in many parts o f India - its wiped out all kinds o f aquatic life. We’ introducing the Western re problems without significantly reducing the Third World problems out there. There was a Reserve Bank o f India research thing that showed that if you measure poverty at a cal­ orific level rather than at an income level, which experts agree to do in the Third World, 70% o f the people in India aren’getting enough food t that’ an appalling amount, isn ’ it? Terrible. s t And if they don ’get enough food when they’ t re children, the brain cells are damaged, and that’ s not being talked about because its such a diff­ icult thing to talk about. I think it requires a lot o f work outside o f the magazine assignments. I think that to get any kind o f information or message across - perhaps message is the wrong word - but I think that what you can do as a photographer is to make people curious. People looking at a picture will, hopefully, want to ask questions. Will want to find out something about the situation. What I would really like to do, I spend a lot o f time covering Third World development issues, is to be able to put together a book - What’ s happening in the Third World. continued next page . . . 1 Photography is very often used in a very crude way, and all of us have used it in a very crude way, but it can also be used in a very subtle way as well. For that sort of situation to work in, you’ve got to have time to think about the pre­ sentation and the way the pictures are going to be used together. I don’t ever show people contact sheets. You take so much rubbish, don’t you? The main point is that people don't really know how to read contacts unless they're really used to it. I find it quite hard choosing from contacts. The pictures I like best 1 don’t discover until a couple of years later. The funny thing is that I found some pictures that 1 took when I was very young - about 9 or 10 - and there are one or two pictures that I would have been quite glad to have taken now. Quite nice images. It seems to me that what happens is that with some people you take a lot of explanatory, documentary-type pictures. Essentially when you re choosing pictures like this, you are documenting a situation - and every now and again - you don ’t know when it’s going to happen - sometimes you know wljen it does happen, but sometimes you don’t - you finally get a picture with everything in its right place, and the root meaning of the word, ’art’ is everything in its right order. It can happen quite casually and simply. Out of the run-ofthe-mill collection of pictures if you go through the contacts, then it suddenly clicks, and there it is. I can tell you a terrific example o f setting a picture up - alot of people laugh when 1 tell them, but the picture from the back of the Taj Mahal - it's not the one of the body being eaten, but it's one that hasn’t really been publish very much. I think it’s better in a way. It’s just a skeleton, and the legs are pointing out towards the Taj Mahal, but actually, when I was there, when I arrived on the scene, the legs were point­ ing the other way, and I could see that it would be just ridiculous not to move it. I know it sounds ghastly, but I just moved it around, and there you are. I’m very rarely in situations where it is possible to set up. You can't really get people to go through things again. If you do a portrait of somebody, you tend to look around for a good place to do it. Eugene Smith said he couldn’t see anything wrong with it as long as it was done with integrity, and I don’t see that as a contradiction. I mean here 1 had two elements, and the Taj Mahal is stunningly beautiful. I got up very early that morning: had to cross the river on a camel, and they said try and find somewhere different - so I went around the back. Wating for the next body to come down the river - I didn’t know this hap­ pened - I looked around on the bank, and there was not only one body or two bodies, but a whole lot - 1 was just out of art school, and that really affected me. It really hurt. I’ve watched people look at pictures I’ve taken, and they flip through them - pictures that I've really worked hard to get. and people think quite glibly, well, that is quite easy to take and that sort o f thing. It was a horrifying thing to see - the first time I’ve seen a dead body. 1 was very angry as well. There was this chap who was so poor that they couldn’t find enough wood to burn him on, and so he just sort of washed up. It would have been irresponsible in that situation not to have taken a picture - it would have been not doing the job I set out to do - which at that time wasn't very clearly defined. I just had a certain feeling about what I wanted to do in India. The assignment I did in Lagos and Ghana for ’People’ was the most difficult assignment I’ve ever had. Hellish. Lagos is in such a state. Ter­ rifying and frightening. I had to get pictures from the wqrst part of the town, and the roads. You'd be walking in shit, literally -- 12 inches of mud and sewage - oh, God -- and being the only white face. too. It hadn’t been photographed before apparently. I’m walking down this street and looking at houses on either side o f it, and no drainage except for the road which was sloping down towards the swamp at the edge o f the city, and suddenly there were these big tables in the open air and about forty guys just cutting up animals. When they saw me there was a great yell, and they swung their hatchets around in the air. I carried on walking down there - the whole ground becomes shit and bones. And the smell. A complete lack of any sense of order, and there you are trying to look for a certain sense of order in a picture, and I just couldn’t do it. I stopped trying to get pictures like that because the situation just didn’t warrant it. Everybody either hated you, or they wanted to be in a picture. One day I was walking along in Richard Greenhitl Mark Edwards continued... I was walking around to a different part of the village, and suddenly there was this child, very sick, but in their terms not ill at all. In their terms, just growing pains. Open sores. Seeing it is a horrific moment that you are shielded from in this country - in America as well. It’s just one image that eventually adds up to a fairly overall picture of the kind of scenes if you’re on the street out there. the centre, the good part, of the city, and we were walking by the water and under a tree saw what I first thought was a young woman asleep but she was dead, and she was being eaten — from inside her clothes. Just a glance, that was all I could take. We had to walk past to get into the boat, and the vibrations of our feet caused all these insects and lizards to struggle out from underneath her dress and scamper away up the trees. There is a permanent traffic jam there only a few roads, Nigeria is suddenly rich with all the oil money, and so lots of people have cars and it takes longer to get in if you live eight miles away than it does to cycle in - but the prestige and all that shit. We were part o f it all. John saw the body o f a child in the road, just being knocked about. I didn’t sec it. Thousands of children dying. There was a taxi with a slo­ gan on the back which said, ‘No condition persists’ - and then suddenly from outside this little shop, we heard, ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing’ - it was so bizarre. And then we saw a sign which said, ‘We regret any inconvenience caused by a road-widening scheme.’ I couldn’t photo­ graph any of that. That would have been polar­ izing the issue and irresponsible use of the camera. What came over very strongly for me was this big division that people think about be­ tween life and death. It’s such a tenuous thing; such a fine line. Here was a young girl that just got dressed that morning and then - boom there she is being eaten on the side of the street. If that picture of the girl had been taken, then that would have been quite big - regardless of whether or not it was an articulate picture in photographic terms - and people would have gotten a strong impression. And you can imag­ ine the kind of caption that would have gone along with it. People would have thought that they would be bound to see dead bodies if they went there. How bad it is there, it isn’t that bad, and that ’s only a very small part of the pic­ ture but makes such a strong impact on someone not being used to seeing death. It would have created the wrong impression. I glanced at the girl when I first saw her, but I took everything in fantastically fast - took in detail which norm­ ally one would spend a few minutes looking at I had seen detail in that whole situation in such a trapped, clearly-defined - 1 just couldn’t look at the image any longer. 1 coyld have done it if I felt it was right. What I’ve been doing is living in a commune in Denmark, and that’s a tremendous revelation for me, getting to know people and photograph them and spend time with them. It’s an extra­ ordinary place, anyway. 1 find it very difficult to use a camera on people who are very close to me - much really if you are outside the kinds of attitudes and ideas of people. So, the first week we spent very tentatively going around and got some quite nice pictures but not intimate, and the second time got much closer and suddenly we were accepted there. They saw that we weren’t just like the press - come in and rush­ ing back to the safety of the newspaper office. We were trying to show what the freak society was like from the inside. What it felt to be a part of it with an objective view as well, of course. Seven hundred people, more than a commune - more like a bloody city, and it’s right in the centre o f Copenhagen. It’s been completely cut off from the rest o f the town they’re living in abandoned Defense Ministry buildings - barracks. None of the controls of Western society - no health inspectors, no police. Yet people live quite safely there. Ter­ rific feeling of energy. 1 use the Leica when I feel very quiet inside. When I don’t want to be a photographer, I use the Leica: just want to take pictures and look; when you’re really looking. Nikon is very tough and they’re very fast and when you’re in a sit­ uation and people know you’re a photographer and there’s no way round it because if they weren't looking at you as a photographer you’d stand out as a white man. It doesn’t really mat­ ter then what you use. Nikon s are sort of lux­ urious cameras to use somehow - to handle. Because it's so quick, because there’s two of them, you can switch very fast from tele, from 105 to 28 or whatever. It’s useful then. It’s very useful like in that village in Nepal where you just didn’t have very much time and you’re just looking for a few key images that got the flavour o f the place really, and people were going to see you. If you're photographing a group of people, you nearly always find that, even if they’re aware, there are moments when they’re not, when they’re conscious of only what’s happening within the group, and then you can shoot away very fast, and they might look up and they might sort of think. If you do it right, it doesn’t really disturb them , even if they’re conscious o f the sound o f the shutter. Work more, talk less. Government slogan on Indian bus From a documentary project o f my life More ‘Politics...’ O e r the past couple of years, it has become fashionable to frown on photojournalists as insensitive and voyeuristic. The mantle of ‘concerned photographer has been inherited by the community photographer, with the docu­ mentary photographer hovering somewhere be­ tween. What worries me is generalized criticism that rarely differentiates between taking a pic­ ture and its subsequent use. I therefore set out to question the rigid labelling of photographers, to defend photojournalists (if they must be labelled) and to ask questions about the role and definition of community photography. This is difficult. I still feel equivocal about some of the points I have raised and see my views as provisional. We should not forget that a label is an expedient which should not become an insult. It is not enough to criticize a photograph by calling it photojournalistic. This is only a style, and there are other just as important questions we should ask. Perhaps we should ask whether it is not new types o f photography we need, but new types of photographer. Rather than applying ready-made stickers, we should ask: For whom are the pictures taken? For what purpose? What are they expected to do? Once we start trying to answer these questions, the problems really begin. Many pictures are hard to categorise, for instance Eugene and Aiken Smith’s book on Minimata. Also, some photographers are beginning to understand the exploitation of which they are accused. Their work is changing. We must be careful, as Jo Spence was in her article, ’The Politics of Photography,’ CAMERAWORK, 1, that in con­ demning a photographic style as exploitive, we do not dismiss all its practitioners. We cannot ‘save’ a photographer by relabelling his or her work. We must judge the pictures and their con­ text. The photographs of Buchenwald are hid­ eous, but they record an actual event. The pho­ tographs o f prisoners being bayonneted in Bangladesh in 1971 are also hideous* but they show an event staged for the media. What is the contradiction? Is cither of the pictures more acceptable or valuable to society than the other? Emotionally 1 say yes, but logically no. Before abandoning photography in desperation - two things. Firstly any picture has historical value, although a future understanding may be entirely different from when it was taken. Secondly, all kinds o f photography can be valid and useful intimate, distant, involved or uninvolved. We forget that our view of the world is partially influenced and depends on the photographs and other images we see. Most of our knowledge about other lives comes from them. Ernest Cole’s book on South Africa, ‘House of Bondage,' is voyeuristic and often detached, but it is also one o f the few pieces of information aboui being black in a segregated community. Cole’s voyeurism is never gratitious. War photographers are criticised by many people who blame them for their own anaesthesia when confronted by photographs o f maimed bodies and starving children. To quibble about the photographers’ moral right to take such pictures is to overlook totally the nature of the events 'Going out to supper with friends' being recorded. It is the cause of the events themselves our anger should be directed against. To echo Jo Spence, it is what is done with the photographers’ pictures -- community, docu­ mentary or photojournalistic - which is the is­ sue. Exhibiting photographs o f dying soldiers in expensive galleries or glossy books divorces the image from the reality. Exactly the same dis­ location can happen to a ‘photographing the community’ project. There is a great difference between Don McCullin’s, ‘Is Anybody Listen­ ing?’ (£8.50 hardback) and Phillip Jones Griffiths’, ‘Vietnam Inc.’ (£3.50 paperback). But do the photographs differ? Is it not the presentation, the coherence and the context of the whole picture/text argument which sets Griffiths apart and prevents it becoming ‘Coffee Table’? It is easy to fall into the trap that ’makes misery into a consumer good,’ or even ‘the struggle against misery into a consumer good.’ Walter Benjamin said this about certain types o f photo­ graphy in the 1920’s. In the same essay (‘The Author as Producer’) he also gives us a clue to resolving part of the dilemma by arguing for authors being involved, and therefore control’ing, their work at all stages of production. It is easy too for us to point in horror at exam­ ples o f tragic photographs printed next to lull-colour ads selling the good life. Uncomfor­ tably the starving Indian next to the sherry ad (next to our own late Sunday breakfast) offers us information on many levels. The basic infor­ mation is still there, however unfortunate the juxtaposition, and we don’t necessarily have to see in the photographs only what the captions direct us to. The fact that the whole package may signify all manner o f things about our own society is no reason for laying all the blame on the photographer. For a start, we must find a way to read the message(s) and understand how the package is put together. One view is that money is what separates the photojournalists from the documenter and com­ munity photographer; that if you are paid to take pictures, they may be distorted; that only the community photographer or someone sim­ ilar has the freedom to take pictures which do not degrade the people photographed. There is obviously truth in this so perhaps we should add to the original three quesions: Who pays fo r the pictures? Is payment made before or after they are taken? This won't help produce a definition, but it may well confuse the issue in an illuminating way. How about: Cartier Bresson - o f independent means Walker Evans - paid for his F.S.A. work and 'Let Us ,Vo»v Praise Famous Men ’ Magnum - Photographers' co-op, turned international agency And what about all those one-off. almost anony­ mous, photographs which have become part of our lives? The deserter/looter being shot in the head by a Vietnamese colonel. Paid for. Would we really believe that it happened without the picture? Unfortunately, even when we believe it, we very rarely take the next step and ask our­ selves, ‘Who is to blame?’ and then, ‘What can we do about it?’. But the pictures give us the chance. 3 Does community photography offer an escape from the dilemmas of other types of photogra­ phy? Or does it just pose other problems we h haven’t yet started to discuss? What is a com­ munity photographer? Like it or not, there appear to be as many varieties being called this as being called photojournalist, but they seem to fall into two distinct types, divided into sec­ tions. There are those who help others to use photography as a tool for recording their envi­ ronment or discovering themselves; and there are those who use photography to document an area or situation in order to change it or reflect it. This latter group may work for a community it­ self or aim at a much wider audience (one will show pictures in local pubs, news-sheets or gal­ leries: the other in central galleries or glossy books). There are also numerous people who call themselves community photographers but who are really old-style photojournalists, pictorialists or self-expressionists. All these types of community photography raise different but crucial questions which we should ask ourselves. What is a community? How big? Are those using photography as a toot also try­ ing to act as social workers or therapists? Or Joes com munity photography encourage people to change their situation rather than adapt to it as social work does? Is the grant aid attracted by some community photography projects the best way o f spending for the community? Is it really less intrusive to use your position in a community to gel pictures than it is to snatch them or persuade strangers to cooperate? Does giving people a print absolve the photo­ grapher from all guilt? Isn ‘ ’ com munity photography too easy, too t inward-looking and too incestuous? A nd in the end boring? Is a local newspaper photographer a community photographer? RESEARCH-IT-YOURSELF A. In Defence of Photojoumalists (so labelled) ‘House of Bondage’ ‘Vietnam Inc.’ ‘Minimata’ Ernest Cole Phillip Jones Griffiths Eugene & Aileen Smith (Compare with earlier work) U. Types of Community Photography Paul Carter , Mike Abrahams Bill Owens Work with young photography group in Blackfriars Slide tapes for local residents in Kentish Town Book, ’Suburbia.’ Through the Gas House Window "Look, they re focusing on us now. First they bomb as much as they please, then they film ". Vietnamese peasant in American documentary ‘Hearts and Minds’. When the Germans first began exterminating lesser people they let them die behind blank walls. Later they put in windows so that they could watch the final agonies. (This caused doubts among some Britons who had written about the scientific beauty of Nazi aircraft hangars). Today, television and the camera lens has become our gas house window.‘Shoot bloody' was once the command for American television camera crews and nightly we watch the ‘agonies’ of lesser people in Vietnam. Lebanon, Angola , Ireland, all recorded in glorious Ektachrome. Photographers and television crews risk their lives - and die - to bring us the latest atrocity. Death, the least of political facts, becomes the only reality. Perhaps one day the Third World will hate us most for this. That we used their suffering to make pictures to put in our magazines between the whisky and the car ads, to put on our television screens between the yoghurt and cornflakes commercials. That we did not even respect them when they were dead. Knowing what we do (none of us can be ignorant of these death camps) we still let the obscenities continue. Wc call the photo­ grapher hero who rode in a jet fighter 38 times to get exactly the picture he wanted of its napalm exploding on the ground. Each time some Vietnamese was being fried in the holocaust below. No magazine or television service showed the bodies dug out at Aberfan. We were rightly shocked by the television reporter who asked a young girl how she felt to lose her friends. If Aberfan had been in Angola or Beirut we would have looked at the dead with ‘compassion’ but without horror. by Margaret M’jrraY Think About It (ii) Communities Diane Arbus’ work. ‘East 100th Street’ ‘The Americans’ ‘Circus Days’ ‘Summerhiir ‘Inside Summerhiir ‘Photographer Extraordinary’ Bruce Davidson Robert Frank Jill Freeman John Walmsley Joshua Popenoe August Sander Letter-. I would like to take up some points raised in Jo Spence's article " The Politics o f Photography" in your last issue. Colleges deserve much criticism but it is essent­ ial that this criticism is directed at the real faults. The points that Jo makes ( unrealistic deadlines, no cares about cost, isolation from the feelings and needs o f the com munity and learning to pass exams ) are not the major faults anymore. Deadlines are often more real at college than outside. Colleges attem pt to fight the isolation implicit in any 'college’ by choosing projects that are a part o f the world outside, recent examples include a tape slide show fo r a con­ ference, examination o f the schools careers advice service, film on the problems o f people using Moorfields Eye Hospital and many other similar jobs. Generally there is a definite deadline which must be m et or the thing is useless. Costs are a much larger factor in college than outside it. The profit margin in professional work means that when things go wrong there is cash to make them go right again. The client The technique of war photography is simple. Few men have the necessary courage, patience and lightning reflexes required for the job. Too often, the message is clear. Dare to revolt, and this is what will happen to you. Photo­ graphs become weapons of political coercion. Instruments of fear. Pictures of villages and towns destroyed to ‘save them’ become advertisements for modem weapons. Right wing commentators fear that people will refuse to fight ‘ just’ wars because they have been frightened by photographs. ‘Just’ revolts will not start for the same reason. In Vietnam, the authorities were keen to help suitable photographers. The Press was free to show what America approved. Philip Jones Griffiths had great difficulty in attempting to show the real - snarling - face of America in Vietnam. He was helped - in part - by many Americans’ secret disgust at their own war. After his book ‘Vietnam Inc.’ was published, he was banned by the South Vietnamese. He still cannot get a visa from the North Vietnamese. We have invented an Orwellian proletariat which is attacked by war, starvation, poverty, not as an act of other men, but as an act of God. The photographer attaches himself to the lead­ ing platoon or section, either landing on the beach, jumping out of the first helicopter or plane, probing into the jungle. He lives with the soldiers. He tries to avoid car­ rying their ammunition or having to help bring in their dead and wounded, but sometimes that is unavoidable. The photographer hopes for ‘action.’ For this reason ‘good’ photographers prefer to join marines or paratroopers or such elite units which they know will fight the bloodiest battles. This is the difference between reporting and voyeur­ ism. If you befriend a group of men, live with them, and go into battle hoping for 'action,’ then you are a voyeur. Such reporting, such photographs dismiss the fact that people die because men kill them, that people starve because others over-eat, that people are poor because others are rich. If you photograph a war. show what it does to the men involved, to the people whose land it is fought over, to the men who command, then you are a reporter. Photographers are authorised by Governments. It is almost impossible to work on the streets of Northern Ireland without an approved Press card or slip of paper. can usually be persuaded to adopt a more expensive solution when this is necessary. In a college situation money is very short and the job has to be tailored very carefully indeed to fit the minute budgets available. To have colleges at all implies a separation o f learning from working but most courses make serious efforts to combat the isolation that this causes. Ivory towers are demolished by careful choice o f projects, by using real jobs as college projects and by bringing in professionals to run projects. It does feel strange to fin d m yself defending a system o f education that I have spent three years learning to mistrust and hate but i f we are to attack the college system constructively we must base our attack on its real weaknesses. The education system in this country is built to provide workers trained to support the existing economy. This means that plans fo r the future are built on the experience o f the past. This is very safe but eliminates the discovery o f the new in favour o f consolidation o f the old. work in these fields, people qualified to get a job, then they must produce visual reaction­ aries. I f they try and produce people who can make visual statements o f their own or on behalf o f a com munity then they will not be able to work in the existing image distribution network, they will n o t be able to get a job. The only openings open to these people are in exhibitions and books. Only intellectuals read books or go to exhibitions. TV and papers only use lowest common denominator pict­ ures. pictures that anyone can see and digest in seconds. As photographers we must find ways o f showing serious work on a large enough scale to enable people to learn the visual lang­ uages involved. We need to fin d ways o f doing fo r photography what street theatre has tried to do fo r theatre. Guerilla activity such as Paul Trevor's laundrette exhibition and some com munity arts programmes are beginning to open up some alternative ways o f showing pictures but until image making and public­ ation are both controlled by the same people we will always have self contradictory colleges and T V that sucks. „ „ David Hoffman War photography substitutes a new heroism of despair for the painter’s bugles and flags and pallid cheeks of honourable death. It gives the murderers a dignity which they do not deserve. Photographers have made war bitter and ugly and untrue. We should be disgusted by our unstated racial ism and that of the Western news services. C. Think About It (i) Projects Work of the Photo League in New York. 19281951 (See Time Life Library ‘Documentary.’) Work of the F.S.A. photographers in the Ameri­ can depression. Centerprise’s book publishing project, ‘A People’s Autobiography of Hackney.’ Far from aiding the afflicted, pictures from Biafra and Pakistan actively persuade people to stop giving aid to the Third World. We look at their hunger, their savagery to each other, as self-inflicted wounds. If they are capable of such things, why should we bother? It is the same blindness that encouraged German photographers to show Jews in the Warsaw ghettoes as ‘inhuman’ and help justify their extermination. This situation is corrupting for several reasons. It does not give us the 'news’ of an event. ‘Shoot bloody’ is ignorant sensationalism. Reporting with the camera, which can be an honourable profession, becomes voyeurism. Its like trying to understand the relationships between men and women, marriage, family, by only seeing pornographic films. The media o f visual communication have largely been expropriated by Big Money, guilt grants from various foundations notwithstand­ ing. I f colleges are meant to produce people to 3rd year Communication Design student North East London Polytechnic. Photographers and film crews are keen to go where the authorities will take them. A mag­ azine carries an heroic low angle picture of a British soldier in Northern Ireland - actually a marine - rather than pictures of paratroopers spreadeagling prisoners on the floor. The photograph retains one advantage over cinema or television. With music or comment­ ary television can adjust us to any brutality. It can still provide the bugles. A photograph stands alone, whatever the lies that surround it. A photograph of a napalmed child remains an outrage whatever the excuse that is given for the burning. In the cinema or television we might be persuaded that this brutality was necessary for democracy or Communism. In a photograph we will forget the excuse and remember the child. They must not brick up that window in the gas house. Rather should we break open the doors and show the storm troopers with their noses pressed to the glass. Tom Picton 4 Doing Photography Even before Richard Avedon discovered Jacques Henri Lartigue, people have known that an eight year old child could take great pictures. Like music, the photographic bug can bite early. Paul Carter o f the Blackfriars Settlement in East London is after something else. The Settlement's exhibition o f work at the Half Moon Gallery - called ‘ oing Photography' and D all taken by people between 8 and 1 7 years old indicates the spirit o f the group. ‘T hat’ why w e’ e here, rather than to take great s r photographs, ’ Paul Carter told CAMERAWORK’ ‘ t ’ fun and gives everybody a sense o f I s accomplishment. ’ The photography club began at Easter two years ago when 150 children from the Settlement went to summer camp. Some o f them took Polaroids and wanted to continue when they came back to London. A t first a few children came to develop a film one night a week, followed by more and more —until Paul Carter had groups two, three and finally, four nights a week. It became too much fo r one person to handle, so Paul Carter advertised in ‘Time O ut,’and now has seven volunteers who help four nights a week. There is a waiting list six m onths’ long. Eight children come to the photography group each night. A third o f the group are girls. Paul Carter would like more in the group and is willing to let girls jump the queue to join. ped, and two were ‘ ost. ‘ They now use Praktica l L ’ which are ‘ olding up well. ’ ‘There has never s h been any malicious damage, and no nicking, ’ Paul Carter says. As you can see from the photographs published here, others in the British Journal o f Photo­ graphy, and by coming to the exhibition at the Half Moon Gallery, the club is a great success. We all know that we really take photographs because it makes us happy. This group is certain. PAUL CARTER INTERVIEWING BLACK­ FRIARS YOUNG PHOTOGRAPHY GROUP Clive Baylis: I take more care of them now. I don’t just go out taking any pictures. A lot of people have been asking me to take pictures now ’cause they think it is a good idea to go to pho­ tography class. I think it’s good. I know how to take pictures more carefully now. Instead of just going out and just taking them and that. 1 know how to develop them now and that. It’s good to watch them, you know, getting the pic­ ture on the paper. It’s clever the way it comes out. It’s more interesting. 'Cause when I used to take things, you used to just give them to the chemist and you don’t know what they are going to come out like. But when you take films, it’s interesting watching how the picture comes and what shading you’re going to get on the picture and that. It’s good. ‘They d o n ’t think girls can join, but everyone is welcome,' Paul Carter says. A third o f the group is black which reflects the local popula­ tion. Ages range from 8 to 17, although the older ones slack o ff when they get a job. They m eet every weekday except Friday from 6 p.m. to 9:30 p.m., although often they have n o t fin ­ ished until 10 or 10:30 p.m. Robbie Dark: Now when you take a picture, you know what it’s going to come out like ’cause you know how to take pictures. You know that if you want a good picture, you have to get the head and feet in so you can see. Not have a head here and the rest all ceiling or whatever. Members can photograph what they want. Some cover outings by other clubs in the Settle­ ment. Others photograph for the local tenant’ s association or record plays being p u t on by their schools. Two members have taken photographs fo r the Work Centre fo r Handicapped People. Paul Carter: What do you do with your photo­ graphs? Within twenty minutes, a new member at their first evening group, is taking photographs. Paul or one o f the other helpers sets the camera and provides a flashgun. There is one hour to shoot, followed by developing and contacting with the assistance o f a helper. The second time they go to the club, they produce two or three prints. The process is repeated again and again. Tech­ niques are used fo r specific problems. I f a friend or relative asks them to copy a photograph, they are shown how. I f they come to a dead end, a new technique is suggested. ‘ problem needs a technique,'says Paul Carter, A ‘ r a technique needs a problem. They know o what they want to take pictures of. ’ Robbie Clark age 15 Clive and Ginger Teresa Shine: Well, when I go in I show them to my mum and dad and see what they think of them. They usually think they are quite good, and then I put them in my box and sometimes I take them to school and show me mates. ’Cause sometimes they’re interested in what I take. Then often I just show anyone w ho’s around. Paul: D oyou show them to your teachers? Teresa: Some o f them I do. You know. My tutor and that, but not all of them that 1 go ’round to see. Paul: Do your friends sometimes say that they would like to go to photography class? Teresa: Yeah. Two or three girls asked me the times and that. But I said you have to be on the waiting list. But they do want to come. Paul: Do they think photography is difficult? The club was set up with money from Kodak and the Arts Council. Paul Carter was awarded the Kodak Bursary fo r socially-committed photography three years ago. Since that was used up, the Inner London Education Authority has paid him £24 a week as a part-time teacher. (Paul Carter, o f course, does a lot o f other photographic work fo r the Settlement.) Other grants have come from the Greater London Arts Association, London Union o f Youth Clubs and the South London Union o f Trades Councils. Two anonymous people have given £200: other bits and pieces and an old 20-inch rotary glazer have been donated. Mem­ bers o f the club pay five pence a week. The club works in small groups o f three or four members with a regular helper. The groups select themselves. There are occasional splits, but the great advantage is that everybody knows each other and many live in the same estate or block o f flats. This means that they can share cameras and other equipment among themselves. They also always have a friend around to help. A t first the club used Zorki 4 cameras but had problems with the shutters. Some were drop­ Teresa: Yeah, but they want to learn it. Paul: We noticed that when photography club started and word got around that people could join, nearly all the people who asked to join were boys. You were the first girl to start. Do you think there is any reason why mostly boys were interested? Christopher Blackman aged 13 - This is a picture o f my sister in the living room curling her hair. - l— l Teresa: Well, now girls are interested. At first only boys thought they could go. I don’t think girls were interested at first. But now they’ve come to see the pictures and everything they’re more interested. And also there’s not many girls around here. Except ’round at Wilkes Row. There’s more boys here. Paul: Do you think that girls think that photo­ graphy is something they can’ do? t Teresa: No. I don’t think that at all. Because girls think they are just as good as boys and can do anything. But you know it’s harder for girls than it is for boys because they have got all the teachers. They are all boys and everything. Just girls on their own. I think there should be a few girl teachers. Danny Hayes, age 16: ‘This is my sister, Veron­ ica. She had just come back from karate, and she said it was rubbish because her partner was hopeless, so she was just showing me what she felt like doing to her. ’ Teresa Shone, age 12: ‘ this photo my mum In and my ni&ce, Jackie, are in my house posing.' 5 Paul: There are some on group nights. Do you think girl teachers would encourage other girls to come along? Teresa: It’s quite important yeah. ’Cause when I get older, you don’t know, I might be a pho­ tography teacher. It’s quite important, I suppose. Teresa: I think so. Paul: Do you do like Robbie, that even when you walk along without a camera you find your­ self seeing more keenly and see things you might not have seen before? Teresa: Yeah, I do. And I wish I had my camera with me when I look at things. Paul: Do you still appreciate what you are look­ ing at even though you d o n ’t have the camera? Is it making you notice things which are some­ how important to you which you might not have noticed before? Teresa: Some things you know. I look around. I find that whenever I ain’t got no camera there’s more interesting things to look at than when I have got my camera. Michael McDonagh age 14 - This is my mother asleep. I took this photo as I thought she would be auite fascinated to see herself asleep. Paul: Do you look and notice things a bit more, generally? Teresa: Hey, I do. 'Cause before you didn’t take no notice of things but when you’re in pho­ tography you sort o f look out for things you might take. You know when you’re walking around it’s more interesting to look at things, ’cause you want to take them. Paul: What were you just saying about Danny’ s photographs, Robbie? Robbie Clark: Do you really want to know? Paul: Yeah. Robbie: Well, it was a picture of two dogs... playing ludo...No, it was two dogs -- Randy and Dick, and they were enjoying themselves. You know. They were playing leap frog. And he got stuck halfway doing leap frog. And so I went up to her. Clive: He! It was a he, it was a boy. Paul: Suppose we have to close the club because we don’t get enough money ? Will yo u be very disappointed about that? Teresa: Yes, I really will. ’Cause there’s nothing to do on Monday nights. And besides that, I'm interested as well, you know -- a lot interested in it. I hope it will stay. If it means giving more money to photography, I would - 10 pence, twenty pence extra a week, I don’t mind. Paul: You think i t ’ worth it? s Teresa: Yeah,’cause the pictures you’re print­ ing. You just think about the pictures in the real shops. Just think how much they cost. Then you look at it here. It’s very much cheaper. And I think I would pay more money if it could keep going. Paul: Do you think that most people could learn the basics o f photography and be better photographers than they are? Robbie: Oh yeah. Anyone could. My mum’s even learned things what I’ve said. My sister takes horrible photographs, and I told her. She’s getting better. She used to take silly pictures. She’d take a picture of a person. She’d only do the head and the rest was all ceiling, and she thought that was a good picture. It would have looked twice as good if you had had all of her in. Up closer and less of the wall. So people learn. Paul: You d o n ’t have to be especially ‘ntelli­ i gent’ to do photography? Robbie: If you want to be really good, I sup­ pose you have to be. 1 don’t know really. Well, what is photography? It’s not measuring things, so you don’t have to be good at maths. You have to be good at spotting things. If you’re quite a dull person who don’t spot anything, you know, don't see much in pictures, then you can’t do it ’cause you’re not really interested. Robbie: No. Clive: It was. Alan Fitzgerald age IS - This picture is Billy in his pram sucking his bottle. Robbie: He says it was two boys. That’s why the under dog ain’t enjoying it. And the dog’s up on his hind legs and he’s got his mouth open. Paul: Do you think he should take a photo­ graph like that? Robbie: Yeah. Why not? It’s human (It’s not human). It’s life, ain’t it? Paul: Do you think it might be embarrassing to put it in the exhibition? Paul: But you said before that since you started photography you spot things more. Robbie: ! do. Paul: So, i f everyone learned photography, do you think everyone would spot things more? Robbie: Yeah, mabe a little bit more, but not so much if you’re not the right sort of person. Say, if you don’t care about what things are. Paul: Do you think photography can help peo­ ple care more about things? Robbie: ’Cause what is it? It’s two dogs prepar­ ing for little ones maybe. They’re enjoying themselves. Having a little muck about. There’s nothing wrong in that. I think you should see more pictures of humans doing it. Robbie: Oh, yeah. A lot. It can make you care about how the world is run. Because you can see what the changes are. You know what hap­ pens now and what happened fifty years ago. So old people can’t complain that the world’s getting worse. Because it’s getting better in some ways and it’s getting worse in other ways. So you can never miss these. So, it can help people a lot. Paul: Why? Wouldn’t that be called pornography? Paul: What’ the difference between photogra­ s phy and other clubs you go to? Robbie: What’s that? John Ryan: Well, you know what you’re doing sort of. You’ve always got something to do. You’re never bored with nothing to do. You can always make prints, develop a film. Clive: I don’t think so. Paul: Pictures o f hum an’ making love - like in s sex books. Robbie: Why? It’s human. Why shouldn’t you? Why should you cover up what it is? ’Cause there’s nothing wrong in it. ’Cause if there was something wrong in it, then all our mums and dads are nasty, aren’t they? They are wrong. They shouldn’t have done it, you know. So what’s the good of covering up what’s right? That’s the facts of life. You see your hand. Why shouldn’t you see anything else? James Hatcher: In club you don’t always do something. Say you get some money. You have to wait for the pinball machine or table tennis. When that’s took, you have to wait until th at’s finished. Sometimes it’s boring in club. Paul: So, we should take some photographs o f couples making love, shall we? James: ’Cause they’re all taken up by people, ain't they? But in photography there’s only certain amount (of people) each night. But in the club, you get as many as you can fit in because the more they get in, the more money they get and the better the club gets. Sort of the more equipment they can get. Robbie: Yeah, we should. Paul: We’l have to see i f we can get some l models...(laughter). Teresa, do you think that being part o f this group learning photography has changed you at all? Teresa: I don’t know. Not really. Tina Regan age 11 — This is a picture o f my cousin taken in my nan's house. Paul: How important to you is it that you have learned photography? Paul: Even though there’ a lot o f things to do? s John: Yeah. Paul: B ut when you went over to club to take pictures, you found you didn’ really want to t take pictures - you wanted to play table tennis. Why was it difficult for you to keep up your in­ terest in photography when you were there, even though you say in some cases photography is more interesting? continued . . . 6 Doing Photography continued... they’re just dazzled, you know. They say, ‘Hmm. maybe he’s not very good at writing, right, but he’s a good photographer!’ It would be a good idea having photography lessons. James: I just wanted to have a laugh with me mates. You wanted to be in the fun. Mike: I’ve told lots of my mates I do photo­ graphy. And they think all I do is to take photos and give it to some person. But when I told them I done it myself, they want to go them' selves. They want to learn. They all say to me they wish they did photography at school. They all really want to do photography. They all ask me, 'Where’s your photography class? Can I join?’ I goes, ’Well, there’s a waiting list.’ John: You sort of want to be in the photos, you know. I'd rather be in a photo then take one. Paul: Why did you think it might be good to start photography? John: Not many clubs around here give you the chance to lend things like cameras. You’re not allowed to take them out. Paul: It's a shame we can't let more people in. How do you think its affected your lives? Chris Blackman: Changed it. Changed it com­ pletely. Made us do something when we’re not really doing nothing. We might be back in the flats just messing around. While this is on, we can be doing something, something interesting. Instead of messing about, we’re here doing this. Paul: What about you, Mike? Mike Parchment: I'd never done it before: some­ thing new. I always used to want to do photo­ graphy. ’Cause when I was little, I used to have a roll of film. I used to think that when I’ve taken all the pictures, you just had to take it out and the photos would be done. Well, I was dis­ appointed when I looked. Anyway, after a couple of years, I kept on looking up things like electronics, and all this stuff, and then I stuck on photography which I liked very much. Then someone said there was a photography club going, and I made sure I joined it. No matter what. Paul : You already knew something about pho­ tography before you came? Mike: Yeah, I didn’t know how to get my pic­ tures out though because all that stuff costs a lot of money. So when I came to photography club, I found out all my mistakes. I was so stupid. I used to take films and put them in water and everything. It never came up. So, when I came to photography, I really learned a lot. I think it’s terrific. Now I’ve started, I can’t do without it. Paul: What made you think you might like photography? Two ways o f selling 'he same product John Roche age 13 - 1 took this at Waterloo Adventure Playground. In the picture left to right Raymond. Frank. Tony. Mike: It’s something completely different. If you go to school and you say to your mates, ‘We’ve just come from club,’ they won’t ask you nothing about it. They won’t. They just say many people do it. So, when you say, ‘I do photography, I develop my own films and all this stuff,’ they feel all sort of amazed because they have to take theirs to the chemist and get it all done. When I tell them it only took me, what, 20 minutes to develop a film and bring it up, they say, ‘Why does it take two weeks for us to get ours done?’ So, they feel real amazed and some of them even ask me to do their films. Paul: What's difficult about the film ? John: You know, you can t see the film. You have to feel your way onto the reels. That’s about the onlv thino about photography that I don’t really like doing. Paul: You all think i t ’ important to learn s something. You feel good when you learn something? Clive: 1 didn't have much to do on a Wednesday and if it wasn’t because of John, I wouldn’t have been going right now. He was the one who told me about it. John: Keeps you out of trouble, don't it? Really, if there was no photography club, pro­ bably half the people here who are supposed to be at photography club would be getting into trouble. If they got something to do, it keeps them out of trouble. Mike: After you’ve done photography, and taken all those prints home and people like them, you can't wait to get back the next day. You think, i wish I could do photography to­ morrow’ and all this. I don't think you get bored with photography at all. I don’t. Paul: John, was photography difficult to learn? Paul: So it's all worth while? John: First I thought it was really difficult. Now it's not so difficult. The only thing I find hard about it is developing the roll of film. But printing is easy, really. Paul: Do you think it would be gtxtd to teach photography in schools? All: Yeah! Fred blogs eats cheese rolls on Sundays too John: Yeah. ’Cause as when Mike was saying, when you take some of your prints to school. Diary of a Mede* Tube station: walk to end of platform to be alone. Sickening poster. Autograph ‘Smoking is to Cancer, as Cowboys are to Beans’. A personal death warning, felt tip squeaks; hand shakes. The twitching finger twitches on, in all direc­ tions. dauntless. The left hand that once gave Angela Davis a moustache... Train half empty. Quick takes for my audio­ gallery, mug-shots, whisper-pics, mike poised under right nostril wrapped in left hand. Whisper ‘white, uncooked face, formal, decorous, worn to the office; not to be slipped out o f easily at home, like his jacket’. Out into bright, bouncing light, banging up streets into postcard panoramas. Crazy about p.c.’s. Buy two royal poses for personal col­ lection of The Family. Resist old, crippled worker waiting to be photo­ graphed; inescapable irridescent patch o f spew on pavement; one for the pollution dossier. Take photograph watched by queue of foreignlooking people outside Madame Tussaud’s. Pro­ bably tourists, mostly wearing cameras (cameras are really ‘haute couture’). Watch impassively. To bookshop: find magazine. My letter print­ ed: high-minded, persuasive, erudite, packed with quotes - a brilliant polemic. Congrats to self, author of letter (author also o f all quotes attributed variously to other experts). All part of seeking reputation of author without ever actually writing a book. Books, books, books, devoted to image-makers and their images. Visual Arts Treasury. Why so many pictures at a price? Why so many picturemakers and yet a dearth in public places of such images? 7:55 a.m. Vision on: light flooding in; light to feed on; of the quality to make strong, heroic images: workers, old folk, cripples. Radio on: record ’Thought for the Day’. One for the pile, ultimately edit into blitz of golden thoughts to batter young heads with. Load gear into jacket pockets: old Leica for emergencies, Sony talk-tank, notebooks, felt tips. Leave. Day’s lustre fading to lambent glow. Into neonlit ether of bar, churning, reflecting smoke; choking but meaty; glittering, clattering charade. Rousing urges to see, listen, join and drink, and notebook to hand to scribble so-called ‘poemmary’ of situation. Enter buffoon, stage right, bestrung with photo­ graphic impedimentia. Nikon, lenses - every­ thing. All flash-carry stuff. Typical photo­ graphic cowboy, the Telephoto Kid. Pin him to a specimen card with one long blistering whisper into the Sony. ...to be continued •Inhabitant o f Media Buy ‘Telegraph’: sudden illumination: ‘A news­ paper: all that any teacher should need as a foundation to any day's teaching’. Keith Kennedy 7 How to Find That Photographic Fact PHOTOGRAPHIC LIBRARY RESOURCES IN THE LONDON AREA Photographic book resources in London are on the whole very good. However, the collect­ ions are scattered, often poorly housed and inaccessible. The poor housing is in some measure due to the lack of public use. It is the purpose of this article to encourage the wider use of these facilities, and hopefully pressurize the powers-that-be into providing improved services. GENERAL NOTES ON USING PUBLIC LIBRARIES Method of classification of library book stocks: Most libraries use the Dewey decimal system. This system allots a number (from 0 to 9) for each sub-classification within the main heading. For example, photography is a branch of the arts (classified 700) and photo­ graphy specifically is 770. Every library has some kind of subject catalogue and author index. If the library does not stock a book you want, it can be obtained by means of an interlibrary loan, both from libraries in England and abroad. This service costs the price o f a post­ age stamp and is available to all readers simply by filling in a special postcard. LIBRARY RESOURCES Special collections: To cater for specialist interests, the public libraries system has a Special Collection scheme established just after the war. This makes it mandatory for certain designated libraries to build up a comp­ lete reference collection o f old and new books, pamphlets and periodicals within the subject allotted to them. This service, called the Metropolitan Special Collection (M.S.C.) is a general lending scheme which is particularly valuable for those who require to read old or out-of-print books, or who would like to obtain the latest books without delay. Central and Local Government funded Librarries: Because school and college libraries are part funded by local and central government funds, it is possible for non college members to use the facilities for reference purposes (and in some instances even join the library and borrow books). Admittance is generally at the discretion o f the librarian who should be consulted before the proposed visit. Many of the libraries listed below publish periodical or holding lists which are issued free. They also keep many useful non photographic reference books that are not generally available in the public libraries. general literature and bound Catalogue produced (1967). National Libraries: The second category of public funded library open to the public is the National Museum or Research Library: the biggest o f these is the British Museum Reading Room Library. The British Museum also has a number of branches with large photographic collections with easy access (books, negatives, original photographs etc). The British Library and the Science Museum Library are two outstanding examples. Large collection technical/general also buy all Amphoto publications. Catalogue produced (1967). Institutional Libraries: Many private organ­ isations and foundations maintain libraries which admit the public (usually under strict conditions - you may even have to join the organisation etc). The largest o f these with a purely photographic collection is the Royal Photographic Society, which issues a reader's ticket at £1.00 a week for non-members. Company Libraries: Commercial and research companies often have well-equipped libraries maintained for the convenience of their staff. Very few of these will allow direct access by the public on a regular basis, but they quite often answer queries by phone or post. Private Libraries: Many individuals hold quite large collections o f books on photography, they are not, understandably, happy to have this fact stated in public. However, w’e think it is a good thing if you give us some idea of the material they hold. Will you send us a list of your books, particularly old and rare material? ADDRESS LIST: METROPOLITAN SCHEME (M.S.C.) SPECIAL COLLECTION Two libraries in London hold large stocks o f photographic books under this scheme, one on an official basis and one voluntary. OFFICIAL COLLECTION: Finsbury Park Library, St John Street, London EC1. tel: 01 837 4146. Extensive collection o f technical books. periodicals. VOLUNTARY COLLECTION: Redbridge Public Library, Oakfield Ilford. Essex, tel: 01 478 0017. Victoria and Albert Museum Library. Exhibit­ ion Road, London SW7. tel: 01 589 6371. Very good photography collection o f original photography (mainly 19th century). About 200.000 items. Road, Science Museum Library. South Kensington. London SW7 tel: 01 589 6371 ext. 527. One of the best organised libraries in London, has a fine collection of photographic books and periodicals plus outstanding collections of original photographs, negatives and slides, including work by Henry Jackson, Roger Fenton and Fox Talbot (approximately 6,000 Fox Talbot negatives). Also an excellent early newscutting collection related to photography. No catalogue available yet but the librarian has prepared a comprehensive list of the photo­ graphic holdings for his own use, which hope­ fully will be published sometime. Contact the librarian, Mr Windsor. Related Collections that include photography: Westminster Central Reference Library. St Martins Street. London WC2. tel: 01 930 3274 Not an officially listed photographic collection but possesses (off access) books; they also hold the Catalogue of the British Museum and the Library o f Congress, plus the Special Art Library (top floor) which has some photo­ graphy books. NATIONAL LIBRARIES: British Museum Reading Room, Great Russell Street, London WC1. tel: 01 636 1544 Contains practically every book on photog­ raphy every published in England. Access only to those with a ‘reader’s ticket’ or one day pass available from the Director’s office. This is not a library for browsers as it takes about two hours to get a book delivered to your table. Definitely a library of ‘last resort' but essential for seekers after long out-of-print works. British Film Institute Library. Information and Documentation Department. 81, Dean Street, London WI tel: 01 437 4355. Extensive collection on film and television, plus an excellent selection of current period­ icals. Open to the public, but regular users are expected to become members of the Institute. INSTITUTIONAL LIBRARIES: Royal Photographic Society, 14 South Audley Street, London Wl. tel: 01 493 3967 Very comprehensive collection, but small reading room which rather restricts the access to the whole collection. You have to be a member to use the library regularly but a reader's ticket is available for periods o f a week or less to members o f the general public. The British Library, 25 Southampton Lane, London. WC2. te l: 01 405 8721. opening times: Mon-Fri 09.30- 21.00. Sat 10.00- 13.00. Keen Street Annexe (pre-1950 Collection) 9-13 Keen Street, London W'C2. Opening ti
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorTony Bock, Terry Dennett, Mike Goldwater, Dave Hoffman, Marylin Dalick-Noad, Tom Picton, Joanna Spence, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerTom Picton, Jo Spence, Victor Burgin, Marcos Valdivia, Ron McCormick
      • author_photographerManuel Alvarez Bravo, Robert Golden, Ralph Gibson, Robert Frank, Keppler, Diane Arbus, Laurence Migdale, Sue West
      • author_designerVictor Burgin
      • author_intervieweeManuel Alvarez Bravo, Robert Golden, Ralph Gibson
      • author_organisationMartini (Advertising), Psychology Today (Magazine clipping), Clouds Jeans (Advertising)
      • tagssemiotics,photography as art,advertising,working class,visual language,roland barthes,walter benjamin,bertolt brecht,mexico,manuel alvarez bravo,trade unions,strikes,surrealism,robert golden,sarah cox,workers,socialism,marxism,documentary,ralph gibson,'quadrants',exhibitions,photography dealers,leo castelli,pinhole,south island workshop,lambeth,alternative technology,developing,processing,amateur,sue west
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 03
      • subtitleIssue 3: Victor Burgin Robert Golden Ralph Gibson Terry Dennett Manuel Alvarez Bravo
      • dimension13 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Victor Burgin, Marcos Valdivia, Ron McCormick, Manuel Alvarez Bravo, Robert Golden, Ralph Gibson, Robert Frank, Keppler, Diane Arbus, Laurence Migdale, Sue West, Manuel Alvarez Bravo, Robert Golden, Ralph Gibson, Robert Frank, Keppler, Diane Arbus, Laurence Migdale, Sue West, Victor Burgin, Martini (Advertising), Psychology Today (Magazine clipping), Clouds Jeans (Advertising)
      • credits
      • relatedTony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2013/02/25/tony-bock-at-watney-market/ Tony Bock http://spitalfieldslife.com/2013/03/04/tony-bock-on-the-thames/
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 3, 8, 9) Mexico. New York, USA. California, USA. (pg 10) Lambeth, London, UK
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      • origination_date1976
      • origination_year1976
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:57:29
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      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • pdf_textLaurence Misdate 'Circus Travelling* - Ju ly Half Moon E x h ib itio n Victor Burgin Robert Golden Ralph Gibson Terry Dennett Manuel Alvarez Bravo No 3 Half Moon Photography Workshop 25p Art, Common Sense and Photography BY VICTOR BURGIN The main thrust o f photographic criticism these days is tow ards the consideration of photography as Art. CAMERAWORK, on the o th e r hand, has raised the issue o f p h o ­ tography as an instrum ent of ideology. Many people believe th a t these tw o ap p ro ­ aches are incom patible. Art is thought to have nothing to do w ith politics, 'political’ art is thought to be irretrievably com prom is­ ed as A rt. But the tw o may n o t be quite as m utually exclusive as these people like to think. Work w ith an obvious ideological slant is o ften condem ned as ‘m anipulative’; that is to say, first, th a t th e photographer m anipu­ lates w hat com es over in th e image; second, th a t as a result his or her audiences b e ­ liefs ab o u t the w orld are m anipulated. Not m uch is know n ab o u t how the m edia influ­ ence opinions, although we can be fairly sure th at people aren ’t sim ply led by the nose by photographs. Whatever the case, b oth charges can be sim ilarly answ ered; m anipul­ ation is o f th e essence o f photography; photography w ould n o t exist w ith o u t it. In p hotography, certain physical m ater­ Fig. 1 fairly be bought for wages is a m ystification ials are technically handled so that meanings w hich conceals the fact th a t, as the value of are produced. Photographers are people w ho m anipulate the physical means o f p ro ­ a com m odity depends on the labour invested du ction o f photography; cam eras, film, light­ in it, the ow ner is appropriating as p ro fit w hat belongs by right to th e labourer: p ro ­ ing, objects, people. Using the productive fits are unpaid wages. The idea o f false­ capabilities o f p hotography to reproduce the w orld as an object o f aesthetic contem pla­ consciousness is an o th er im portant aspect tio n , and nothing else, is no less ‘m anipula­ o f the m eaning o f the term , ‘ideology.’ The politically ‘L eft’ p h otographer wants tive’ than is any o th e r use o f photograph: to tu rn away is an act, to tu rn away from sit­ to help correct so ciety ’s false picture o f its uations o f im m ediate social relevance is a p o ­ actual conditions o f existence, to raise such questions as: Why this practice? What does litical act, and to perform such acts in every What interests does it serve? w orking m om ent adds up to a political it m ean? Such a photographer w ants to help people policy. T he only imaginable non-political being is becom e conscious o f th e forces which shape a totally self-sufficient herm it. The p h o to ­ their day-to-day lives; to realise th at the social order is n o t a natural order, and thus grapher w ho has chosen to live in a society and enjoy its benefits, even though he also beyon d all change, b u t is made by people chooses to p u t on blinkers w hen he squints and can be changed by them . The political­ in to a viewfinder, is willy-nilly an acto r in a ly dissident photographer however is involv­ ed in an apparent parad o x , th at o f seeking to political situation. So how is it th a t so m any people can genuinely believe th a t they lead penetrate appearances w ith an instrum ent designed specifically to record appearances a-political lives and th a t it is others ‘m ilitants’ and ‘extrem ists’ — w ho ‘have’ and appearances alone. ideology, n o t themselves? We m ust first say w hat we m ean by ‘ideology.’ When we look at the day-to-day life o f a d istan t culture — behaviour, custom s, dress, diet — we arc im m ediately struck by its strangeness: Why do they do th a t? Why do they eat those? What docs it all mean? Few such questions trouble us as we pursue our ow n lives in our ow n culture, and if they were asked, they w ould probably get short shrift. Why does a man generally let a fe­ male stranger precede him w hen he is going in to a shop, b u t n o t w hen he is boarding a bus? Why do m en hang ties around their necks when they wear a shirt, b u t n o t when they wear a roll-neck jum per? The ques­ tions appear silly, the answers obvious. . . . This is ideology as ‘w orld-view,’ a com m onsense understanding o f ‘th e way things are’ which is unquestioningly ‘taken for granted.’ What we do ourselves seems so natural to us th a t we even cease to notice w hat we do. ‘H abitualisation,’ said the critic V iktor Shklovsky “devours w ork, clothes, fu rn ­ itu re, o n e ’s wife and the fear o f w ar.” E_ Through habitualisation, w orking m en and w om en accept lives o f tedium , or even mis­ Fig. 2 ery, as their natural lo t, while others accept Bertold Brecht fo u n d the cam era a p o li­ the social cost o f their ow n greed as being tically-deficient instrum ent: a photograph ju st as unavoidable. The m edia by which we o f a facto ry , he poin ted o u t, tells us nothing are inform ed characteristically reinforce o f th e econom ic forces governing the lives of such attitudes: “ U nem ploym ent is expected those w ho w ork in it. Roland Barthes made to rise next m onth. . . . More rain is expect­ a sim ilar p o in t when he reviewed The Family ed in the south-w est” — bo th facts appear o f Man exhibition: o f course babies are equally to belong to the natural order of b o m and nursed by their m others all around things, acts o f G od against which there can the w orld, b u t photographs o f them tell us be no insurance. nothing o f th e ch ild ’s life expectancy or of The sort o f habitualisation which leads the likelihood th a t its m o th er might have millions to collude in their ow n repression, died giving b irth . and w hich allows th e rich and privileged to Such w riters, notably including Walter continue to act selfishly “ in all good faith ” Benjamin, have concluded th a t as language Marx called “ false consciousness.” For e x ­ itself is the instrum ent best ad ap ted to m ak­ am ple, in order th a t the institutions o f the ing a politically-specific statem en t, then the S tate should continue to serve the interests photograph can only serve the te x t. But, o f a ruling oligopoly, it is necessary that although the premise here is correct, the m ost people should continue to believe th a t conclusion does n o t necessarily follow from such institutions serve everyone equally. Or it. In his essay on The Family of Man, again, th e belief com m on to b o th those who Barthes condem ns the failure o f p h otogra­ ow n the means o f production and those phy to m ake a political statem en t, y et in this w ho do productive w ork th a t labour may same essay he condem ns the exhibition p re­ cisely for making such a (m ystificatory) political statem en t. A photograph o f a baby at the breast o f a w om an in a private nursing hom e in Sw itzer­ land may be placed alongside a photograph o f a sim ilarly-com posed m o th er and child group in a village in rural India. Assuming th a t there are no obvious signs o f depriva­ tion on the one han d , o r o f privilege on the o th er, the tw o images together will p ro ­ nounce: “ M others and their babies are the same everyw here.” Such a smugly reassuring message was indeed com m unicated by The Family o f Man exhibition. The cap tio n , the title o f the ex h ibition, served mainly to u n ­ derline w hat had already been said. In this case, the te x t served the photographs. Here, an ideological co n ten t is produced by a formal device. The message: “ T he c o n ­ dition o f m o th erh o o d is the same all over th e w o rld ,” w ould n o t have been conveyed so readily by either o f the photographs alone. Only th e ju x tap o sitio n of the tw o creates such a co n ten t, in such clarity, and w ith all th e im m ediacy o f an observed n a tu r­ al tru th . (The message is ideological n o t simply because it is wrong in w hat it says — simply to be m istaken is n ot necessarily to be in a state o f false-consciousness — it is ideological because it m isrepresents the actual m aterial condition o f the w orld in the service o f specific vested interests.) Because we have separate w ords for ‘fo rm ’ and ‘c o n te n t’, we are easily misled in ­ to believing th at they stand for totally dis­ tin ct areas o f experience. But there is no co n ten t w ith o u t a form, and no form .which does n o t shape a co n ten t. In that they b o th have been misled by a picture o f the world given to us by language, ‘artists’ and ‘acti­ vists’ alike tend to inhabit the same aesthetic ideology. A rtists believe th a t they can p re ­ sent a totally content-free world o f pure form s. Activists believe in th e autonom ous pow er o f ‘the tr u th ’ which will im pose itself regardless o f form al considerations. It will pay us, if we arc concerned with w hat photographers ‘say,’ to exam ine the devices which enable photography to say things, d e­ vices so familiar to us they may pass unnoticed. Popular photography magazines p erio d i­ cally carry articles advising their readers to look for ‘co n tra st.’ Such articles generally begin w ith a directive to look for contrasts o f light and dark tones, rough and sm ooth tex tu res.............and then move from formoriented to content-oriented oppositions such as young/old, happy/sad, etc. Such contrasts are indeed p art o f the stock-intrade o f the professional — take, for exam ­ ple, th e picture o f ‘victory and d efeat’ in Fig. 1. Most active photographers arc aware of th e phenom enon the ‘th ird effect’: tw o images side-by-side tend to generate m ean­ ings n ot produced by either image o n its ow n. This effect may be produced by bring­ ing together tw o physically-distinct prints (from tw o separate negatives), or by ju x ta ­ posing tw o distinct elem ents w ithin a single fram e. In the la tte r case, the jux tap o sitio n may be brought about by chance (happy coincidence) or by design; if by design, then cither ‘n atu ral’ means (casting, posing, etc.) or ‘technical’ means (darkroom m anipula­ tio n , collage, etc.) may be used. For exam ple, take th e picture o f George V on Derby Day in Fig. 2: in this image, we believe th at the co n trast o f rich and p o o r is m ade on the basis o f a coincidence — the p h otographer ju st happened to be there w hen. . . .; b u t it is equally possible, al­ though perhaps less likely, th a t the tw o main elem ents of the image were assem bled in the darkroom from separate negatives. Or, again, it is n o t b eyond possibility th a t the situation depicted was ‘set u p ’ for the cam ­ era — for exam ple, th e p h otographer could have directed a suitably-cast and dressed p er­ son to run up to the coach at a p red eterm in ­ ed spot. F urther to all this, the co n trad ic­ tion o f rich and p o o r could have been com ­ m unicated by juxtaposing tw o separate p h o ­ tographs, taken at different times and places from one another. O f the above possibilities, we w ould p ro ­ bably conclude th a t th e picture we have here is in actuality the m ost effective. The p h otojoum alistic ‘snap’ has an au th o rity which o th er forms o f picture-m aking lack; it presents itself as factual evidence of. an actual state o f affairs. In photojournalism , a particular m om ent may som ehow com e to signify a general tru th . This ‘som ehow ’ is generally considered to be unaccountable except in term s o f such things as ‘luck,’ ‘ta le n t’ or a com bination o f the tw o. Cer­ tainly the p h otographer o f George V was lucky, and he may very well have been ‘talen ted ’ (w hatever that m eans), b u t while the picture before us may have depended on luck for its existence, it does n o t depend upon luck or ‘ta le n t’ for its meaning — its m eaning is som ething we can account for. All com m unication takes place on the basis o f signs, m ost predom inately on the basis o f visible and audible signs. To say th at one person has com m unicated with an o th er is to say th a t each o f them has u n ­ derstood how to use an d in terp ret th e signs which m ade up the message betw een them . If you speak to me in G reek, 1 have no p ro b ­ lem hearing the noises you are making, b u t if I do n ot ‘know G reek’ in com m on w ith you, then 1 cannot understand w hat you are saying. Fig. 3 The photograph is a sign, o r m ore co rrect­ ly speaking, a com plex o f signs, used to com ­ m unicate a message. If you show me a p h o ­ tograph o f a pile o f stones th en , at an im ­ m ediate level, my eye receives visual ‘noise’ ju st as my car received verbal noise w hen you spoke to me in Greek. We can suppose th a t 1 have seen photographs since I was a child and so have no problem in ­ terpreting these irregular patches of light and dark tones as representing stones. (When African bushm en were first show n photographs, they had to be taught to read them ). But w hat b eyond this? If I go on to rem ark th at the photograph depicts a tem ­ ple, th at the tem ple is ruined, and th a t is G reek, then I am relying upon knowledge th a t is no longer ‘n atu ral’, ‘purely visual’; 1 am relying upon knowledge th at is cultural, verbally tran sm itted , and in the final analy­ sis, ideological (I might think ‘cradle o f civil­ isation’ or ‘dam ned G reeks’ according to when and where I happened to be born). Most photographers are aw are o f using some sort o f system o f effects in th eir w ork, b u t such system atisation as may be achieved is generally believed to concern only the purely formal — th e ‘visual.’ C o n ten t, it is believed, is ju st there in the w orld, and therefore in the p icture, w hether lined up w ith the frame or com posed on th e diagonal. But once we reject the idea o f photography as a “ purely visual’ language, understood equally by everybody everyw here, then we may begin to consider the possibility that c o n ten t, to o , may be p roduced as deliber­ ately as one may plan the form al com posi­ tion o f the photograph. To retu rn , th en , to ‘co n tra st.’ All c o n ­ trasts are ju x tapositions, b u t n ot all ju x ta ­ positions are contrasts. The ‘Derby D ay’ and ‘Boxing’ pictures are based upon a c o n ­ trast; th a t is to say. a dissimilarity o f c o n ­ tents (rich/poor, v ictory/defeat). The wellknow n Diane Arbus picture o f identical twins, on th e o th er hand, (Fig. 3) is based upon a sim ilarity o f b oth form and co n ten t. The fashion picture beside it (Fig. 4) is based upon a ju x tap o sitio n o f similar forms which have dissimilar co n ten ts (e.g., anim ate/inanim ate). L ooked at m ore closely, the p h o to g rap h ­ er’s stock-in-trade o f ‘co n trast’ may be seen to consist o f a num ber o f distinct com m uni­ cative devices, devices which nevertheless seem to evolve upon the com m on basis of the various relationships into which tw o or 2 Art, Common Sense and Photography sense o f which its usual sense is only a p art, e.g., “ Give me y o u r h e a rt” (when the entire body is being sought). Advertising is the m ost obvious place we m ight expect to find rhetorical figures (of which there are literally hundreds). In the first place, there is no d o u b t th a t som eone is setting o u t deliberately to persuade, in the second place, there is little d o u b t th a t every­ thing in the advertisem ent has been most carefully placed for m axim um effect. Com ­ mercial publicity, obviously, endorses and perpetuates the com m odity values central to our capitalist ideology. On the left, the p re­ vailing view o f advertising tends to be sim p­ ly one o f disapproval. From one p o in t o f view in ‘classic’ sem iology, how ever, the structure o f advertising may be disengaged from its co n ten ts: the rhetorical structures o f advertising are ‘in d ifferen t’ to the em o­ tional and ideological value o f the contents they handle; m uch as, for exam ple, an arith ­ m etical stru ctu re like 2 plus 2 equals 4 ‘doesn’t care’ w hether we are adding up tax i­ cabs o r tom atoes. In this view, therefore, there is no reason w hy, once the devices of advertising have been isolated by sem iotic analysis, they may n o t be ‘re-cycled’ in counter-ideological message-making. A n o th ­ er opinion to be derived from semiotics argues against this, b ut there is insufficient space here to discuss the apparent contradiction. Fig. 4 m ore visual elem ents may enter. The nub of such a system is form ed by relationships of sim ilarity and dissimilarity o f form and of c o n ten t, with additional m anipulations in the form o f substitutions and perm utations o f elem ents. The w orking o u t o f such a system in its entirety is one o f the tasks which might be undertaken w ithin a ‘sem io­ tic ’ study o f photography. Sem iotics, or sem iology, is the science w hich studies signs. We recognise th a t some photographers are m ore successful com m uni­ cators than others. The sem iotician is in ter­ ested in the reasons for their success or failure — n o t, o f course, in term s o f the p h o ­ tographer’s personal history, b u t in term s of the photographic sign itself. The sem io­ tician w orks from the assum ption that wherever we recognise ‘m astery’ o f an art, we also implicitly acknowledge the existence o f some system which has been m astered w hether the ‘m aster’ is conciously aware of the system or not. In the early days o f ‘stru ctu ralist’ sem io­ logy (R oland Barthes’ E lem ents o f Sem io­ logy first appeared in France in 1964) ex­ clusive atten tio n was paid to the analogy b e­ tw een ‘n atu ral’ language (the phenom enon o f speech and writing) and visual ‘language.’ It had long been com m on for people to speak loosely o f ‘th e language o f . . .’, this or th a t activity, including, o f course, ‘the lang­ uage o f p hotography,’ but it was n o t until Fig. 5 The rhetorical analysis o f advertising may the 1960’s th a t any system atic investigation o f forms o f com m unication outside o f n a tu r­ be con d u cted along three main ‘planes’: the al language was conducted from th e stand­ image plane; th e plane o f the te x t (headline, caption, body-copy); and the plane o f the p o in t o f linguistic science. There were tw o main reasons fo r ap p ro ­ text/im age bond. For exam ple, an image aching visual com m unication through ling­ which show ed a b o ttle o f milk as big as a uistics: first, language is the most elaborate house w ould present a figure o f hyperbole and com prehensive form o f com m unication (overstatem ent). If we th en added the head­ ever evolved, and it seem ed at least a reason­ line “ Pour Some More, M um ” , the tex t able w orking hypothesis to assume that w ould be based in rhym e, and we would o th e r forms o f hum an com m unication might have established a figure o f lito te (under­ have evolved along basically similar lines; statem ent) in th e relationship o f the te x t to second, m odern structural linguistics was it­ the image. self a sufficiently-established science to p ro ­ vide the necessary ready-m ade theoretical models o f com m unication to sta rt the new science o f semiology on its way. One aspect of natural language use which was found to have a particular bearing on the topic o f visual com m unicative devices is rhetoric. Simply speaking, rhetoric is the artful use o f language in order to persuade. In rhetoric, language draws atten tio n to it­ self in order to a ttra c t and retain the a tte n ­ tion o f the listener o r reader — form is m an­ ipulated to engage interest in the contents. R hetoric first evolved in the Classical period, and one o f the difficulties in stu d y ­ ing rhetoric today is th a t the ancient term s are still in use to label its ‘figures’: terms such as antanaclasis, chiasmus, synechdoche, . . ., etc. However, th e m eaning o f m ost of these term s becomes clear once examples arc provided: In antanaclasis, a single w ord is repeated w ith different senses, e.g., “ Learn a craft in y o u r y o u th so that in your old age you can earn your living w ith o u t c ra ft” ; in chiasmus, w ords are repeated b u t inverted in their order in the course o f a single sentence, e.g., “ You should eat to live, n o t live to e a t” ; in synecdoche, a w ord is used in a Fig. 6 L et’s take som e fu rth er, actual examples: Fig. 5 is a visual hyperbole much like o u r h y ­ pothetical exam ple except that in this case the exaggeration is doubly charged through sexual allusion; Fig. 6 is an exam ple of chiasmus in the plane o f the te x t; Fig. 7 p re­ sents a paradox in the text/im age plane. . . . and may be w orth considering in some more detail. It’s all in the mind. krCM<rin.iiiMrc-^al la .Jra.ilux IWyw m piafcwimh W fialM ** PsychologyToday Fig. 7 The image in this exam ple draws upon the iconography o f poverty — the bath in a zinc tu b , the squalid ‘back y a rd ’, the w ash­ ing on a line (as opposed to in a spin-dryer). These rem arks suffice to show th at this is ‘p o v erty ’ in th e definition o f a particular cul­ ture at a particular historical ju n ctu re — the same assembly o f signs might con n o te rela­ tive affluence in a ‘third w orld’ co n tex t. The striped T-shirt is associated in the Brit­ ish m ind with the iconography of France and th e sea, its co n n o tatio n of ‘St. Tropez-ness’ establishes a figure of irony w ithin the image. It is likely th a t the people in the p h o to ­ graph will have been chosen for their — in B arthc’s expression — ‘canonic generality;’ th a t is to say, each individual represents his or her own ‘ty p e ’, each individual stands for a class o f individuals. In rhetoric th e figure o f antonamasia is th e one in which the p ar­ ticular stands for the general. Nearly all ad ­ vertising images contain this figure. Thus, the w oman in our exam ple represents all econom ically-disadvantaged m others (there is no evidence in the picture which proves she is the m o th er o f these children, b u t the very wide use o f images o f the family dic­ tates th a t she represent one). The scene d e ­ picted here should cause no offence to cither th e p o o r or the com fortably-off: there arc no to m clothes o r m atted hair, th e children are being washed and (im m inently) fed; this is a ‘p o o r b u t h o n est’ milieu. The rem arks I have m ade so far concern w hat is actually to be observed in the image; more observations could be added along these lines. Beyond w hat is to be seen in the image, how ever, there are m any stories to be construed from w hat is seen. This p h o to ­ graph could serve equally well to illustrate a variety o f stories. For exam ple: ‘one-parent families’; ‘health in the ho m e’; ‘dom estic life in industrial tow ns’ . . . and so on. The photographic image can carry a large num ber o f different meanings. It is ‘polyscm ic.’ G enerally, the polysem y o f the image is controlled by its ju x tap o sitio n with a verbal text. Roland Barthes has identified two differ­ ent functions which the verbal message can adopt in relation to the image, these he calls anchorage and relay. The tex t adopts a function o f anchorage w hen, from a m u lti­ plicity o f co n n otations offered by the image, it selects some and thereby implicitly rejects the others. Thus, in a cigarette advertise­ m ent, the contradictory connotations ‘cigarettes give pleasure’ and ‘cigarettes give cancer’ arc selectively handled in such a cap­ tion as ‘cool as a m ountain strea m ’, a simile which endorses the suggestion o f pleasure while rejecting th a t of unwholcsomeness. In relay, the image and the lingusitic te x t are in a relationship o f com plem entarity: the linguistic message explains, develops, e x ­ pands the significance o f the image. (Fig. 8 is a particularly clear an d simple exam ple of relay). In our previous exam ple, the cap­ tion is in a relationship o f relay to th e image. ‘I t’s all in the m ind’ is n o t am ongst the co n ­ notations we might expect to be sum m oned by the image alone. It is n o t therefore ‘anch o red ’ from am ongst the connotations already available. The rhetorical stru ctu re of the text/im age relation in this case is th a t o f paradox. The dom inating co n n o tatio n of the image may be labelled (but n o t co n tain ­ ed) by th e linguistic term ‘p o v erty .’ Sub­ stituting this term for th e image gives us the statem ent: “ Poverty. I t’s all in th e m ind.” However, we know the poverty depicted in the image to be a m aterial poverty, hence the paradox, and hence th e effect gained by the ju x tap o sitio n o f such a caption with such an image. The sem iotician Jacques Durand made these rem arks in the course o f his 1970 study o f rhetoric in advertising: “ The m yth o f ‘inspiration,’ o f ‘the idea,’ reigns suprem e in the creation o f advertising at th e present tim e. In reality, however, the m ost origin­ al ideas, the m ost audacious advertisem ents, appear as transpositions o f rhetorical figures which have been indexed over the course o f num erous centuries. This is explained in th a t rhetoric is in sum a repertory o f th e var­ ious ways in w hich we can be ‘original.’ It is probable then th a t the creative process could be enriched and m ade easier if th e creators w ould take account consciously o f a system w hich they use intuitively.” Fig. 8 Typical o f the nineteenth century Rom antic aesthetic attitu d es which prevail in present-day writings on photography is the n o tio n th a t there are unique essences w ithin things and people which are ordinar­ ily concealed from us b u t which artistic genius can reveal. This is an idea w hich photographers had handed dow n to them from the ‘Fine A rt’ they originally sought to em ulate (and o ften still wish to em ulate, al­ beit they in the position o f people rowing o u t to jo in a sinking ship). Largely, this idea is a projection o f th e m arket relations which characterise our com m odity society: th e co n ­ cept o f ‘genius’ guarantees the investm ent value o f th e p ro d u ct; the concept o f trans­ cendental ‘essences’ protects the p ro d u ct against practical interrogation. Brecht to o k th e view th a t w hat essences there are behind appearances are to be reached through investigation rath er than through in tu itio n . Photography has tended to tre a t us to an interm inable rhetoric of ‘hum anity — its jo y s, its sorrow s.’ The m aterial forces which cause such em otions and, fu rth er, shape o u r entire lives, may be described. It rem ains to be seen w hether photography will becom e effective in show ­ ing them . What is certain is th a t if it is to do so, we need to treat th e photographic image as an occasion for scepticism and q uestion­ ing —n o t as a source o f hypnosis. REFERENCES V iktor Shklovsky A rt as a Technique, in Russian Form alist Criticism , University of Nebraska. Roland Barthes The Great Family o f Man, M ythologies, Paladin, 1973. -----------------------------Elem ents of Semilogy, Jo n a th an Cape, 1967. ---------------------------R hetoric o f th e Image, Working Papers in Cultural Studies, Spring, 1971. Jaques Durand R hetorique et Image Publicitairc, C om m unication, 15, 1970. 3 BRAVO BRAVO! M anuel Alvarez Bravo is a confusing photographer. His pictures o f th e dead w orker and the naked wom an wrapped in bandages are totally convincing. B ut others share the artiness o f E isenstein’ Mexican s film . (In E isenstein’s case, you suspect that the Sun illum inating his pictures also addled his brain.) To m ake one great picture in a lifetim e can be an achievem ent. M anuel Alverez Bravo has managed three or fo u r. Bravo was b o m in M exico C ity in 1902. H e to o k up photography seriously in 1924 b u t continued to work as a govern­ m en t accountant until 1931. In the same year he sold his fir st p rin t to the M useum o f M o d em A r t in N ew York. A s well as “personal” photography, Bravo recorded murals and others w orks o f art. He also taught part tim e. Edw ard Weston to ld him photography was “fo rtu n a te in having som eone w ith your view point. ” In 1934 Bravo ex h ib ited with Henri Cartier-Bresson in M exico C ity ’ Palace o f s Fine A rt. From 1943 he w orked fu ll-tim e as a photographer and cameraman w ith a film studio in M exico. In 1959 he co-founded a fo u n d a tio n fo r M exican plastic arts. When Bravo came to L ondon f o r his show a t th e Photographers Gallery, Tom Picton and Marcos Valdivia talked to him fo r CAMERAWORK. Odile Bertin translated the tapes. We asked him i f his fa m o u s pic­ ture o f the dead striker had a political meaning: o f w inter” w hich show ed a branch of a w ithered tree and a stained glass window in a rath er art nouveau style with a wom an. Picton: H ow did yo u work as a p h o to ­ grapher and fo r whom ; fo r what kin d o f audience? Bravo: It is a difficult question. My p h o ­ tography has regularly gained approval both in and o ut o f M exico, and in the exhibitions in which 1 have been, my w ork has been liked, b u t th at is all I can say. More, I w ould not know. Picton: D id yo u ever work with a group o f photographers or usually by yourself? Bravo: By myself. Valdivia: C ould yo u describe fo r us the atm osphere in M exico when yo u , Buhuel, Weston, Diego Rivera and others were w o rk­ ing there? Bravo: It was a period of struggle in w hich every person had to look after him ­ self and w ork as he could. Relations b e­ tween all of us were friendly, b u t we did not form w hat could properly be called a group. There were simply affinities and relationships. Valdivia: What can yo u tell us a bout the tradition surrounding death in M exico? Bravo: People believe that there is a love o f d eath , b u t they do n o t understand that it is n o t simply th a t, and that w hat in fact there is in M exico is an ancient awareness o f the duality o f life and d eath, death being the end result of life, and th a t it is im pos­ sible to treat the tw o term s separately. This concept o f duality we Mexicans receive as children, when in November, on th e Day o f the Dead, we are taken to the fair and buy toys of death and skulls o f sugar, which we eat. Eating is an activity which sustains life, and this life is sustained by a skull. Picton: In Painted Walls o f M exico (1966) yo u w rote: “Popular A rt is the art o f the people. A popular painter is an artisan who, as in the M iddle Ages, remains anonym ous. His w ork needs no advertisem ent, as it is done fo r the people around him. . . " I agree very m uch with that; could yo u say so m e­ thing a bout it? Bravo: I think th a t w hat is said here about popular art can be applied to art in general. A ctually in my opinion, and I said this in a lecture in Mexico at the Museum o f M odern A rt, it is very strange to go on talk- Valdivia: A n d so they are transform ed into m y th ? Bravo: Yes, o f course. If one is concerned w ith the object-subject relatio n ­ ship, the co untry is bound to emerge. It is n o t th at one w ants to create a national art, b u t th at national art arises when one res­ ponds to the heartb eat o f a nation. Picton: Are you still taking photographs, or what kin d o f w ork are yo u involved in at the m o m en t? Bravo: When a photographer is involved in an event, he is so involved and so much a p art o f it that he is not aware o f his involvem ent. Picton: Has “the m urdered w o rker" ever been used as a poster? Bravo: Since it was a com m ission for the catalogue for a surrealist exhibition, I w orked — w ithout really planning to do it th at way — as autom atically as possible. I sent som eone to buy the kind o f cactus called abrojos in Spanish, or, “ open eyes” and borrow ed a blanket from the caretaker. 1 spoke on the telephone to a d o cto r friend and told him: “ Come here and bring some bandages.” He came very quickly, and I bandaged the girl and took the photographs. T hat is the way it happened. If you w ant to know why it happened th a t w ay, 1 think th a t the question o f the bandages came about through an experience I had with a group o f ballet dancers w ho came to Mexico. 1 saw the rehearsals and saw that they ban­ daged their feet, so I bandaged the feet and som ething m ore. At th a t tim e it was not allowed anyw here to circulate photographs showing bodily hair. And I did not have a personal interest in it. The original photograph was a little m ore cut than as it is know n now . It was going to be reproduced in three strips on the fro n t cover with th e same b u t in negative on the back. I thought it was an interesting form at. But it was n o t published. Instead, an o th er one was — called “ The consecration Bravo: It w ould be exactly th e same — it is n o t my fault th at som ebody suddenly got interested in my photographs. I did them as a means o f self-expression for show ing on a small scale, rather like the way in which things are m ade in a village o f artisans. But as I said before when talking ab o u t the individuals from a group, their w ork is anonym ous w hether' it is signed or n o t, b e­ cause the individual is unknow n. But there com es a m om ent w hen others becom e in ter­ ested, and then the photographs becom e o b ­ jects in themselves. They are no longer p u re­ ly the expression of an event to be seen on a wall or to be reproduced in a magazine, b ut have been transform ed in to objects, and as objects they can be bought, w hether they get sold or not. Valdivia: Q uite right! However, I personal­ ly think that the work o f M anuel Alvarez Bravo is the expression o f a people. Valdivia: Did you personally fe e l involved in the event ? Picton: Could you tell us how you happened to m ake “the wom an in the bandages"? Picton: H ow does this apply in yo u r own photographs ? For exam ple, i f yo u had been an an o n ym o u s photographer yo u w ould n o t have had the same impact. Bravo: No, rath er into m erchandise. The m yth is created afterw ards aro u n d the au th o r, w ith th e purpose always o f enhanc­ ing his com m ercial value. Bravo: Yes, o f course. The political question at that tim e was the struggle for a m inim um wage. W orkers were very badly paid, they w ent on strike, and this man was killed. But w hen one secs the photograph by itself for the first tim e, I do not think one needs any more explanation, because in the background a p art o f th e strikers’ banner can be seen, and th e a ttitu d e o f the dead w orker is not a general statem ent o f violent death b u t of one heroic death. Bravo: Yes, several tim es, for a political purpose. In fact, it was n o t used as a poster b u t appeared in left-wing magazines. I rem em ber oth er occasions when it was p ub­ lished n o t in a political, co n tex t, and it is interesting to see how it has been associated with the nude. a person w ho keeps a shop where he does passport photographs or w edding p h o to ­ graphs is practising a craft b u t n o t creating art. A rt is created by the individual and n ot th e m aterial which he is handling. Striking w orker murdered, 1934 Valdivia: But such a frien d ly atm osphere m ust have been very stimulating. Bravo: C ertainly. T hat is why I consider that my w ork is derived from precisely those m ovem ents — essentially the m ovem ent in wall painting. Valdivia: It is said that M exico is essentially a surrealist country. Bravo: T hat is w hat Breton says. In fact, Mexico can be a dram atic c o u n try , a countryfull o f contrasts, even bordering on th e fan­ tastic, which docs n o t precisely fit in the concept o f surrealism which like any o th er “ ism ” is an academ ic term . Perhaps 1 can understand w hat Breton said as m eaning a country where th e artist can produce fan­ tastic or surrealist art. In the case o f my own w ork, for instance, I do n o t think it can be considered as surrealist except for three or four photographs like “ the woman in the bandages,” b u t all the others arcfantasy-inspired by the co untry itself. Valdivia: B ut “the wom an in the bandages” was done with a surrealist fu n c tio n fo r a surrealist exhibition, and very successfully so. Bravo: T rue, b u t you m ust see the basic difference which exists betw een that p h o to ­ graph and “ the m urdered w orker.” O ne is all spontaneity as opposed to the other, which is the pro d u ct o f com plicated mind games and heaven-knows-what oth er subtleties. ing ab o u t the art o f painting, or o f painting as an art, or photography as an art. I was asked o u t o f the blue if p hotography was an art, b u t I shall com e back to this later. Pop­ ular art is anonum ous art m ade for some ex ­ isting group of people, b ut naturally as time passes, this group is going to develop relationships with o th er groups, and th e vari­ ous co n tacts betw een groups will produce a change, or changes in the art in general n ot only in popular art, b ut in all the arts. A fter a tim e, th e nam es o f the authors begin to be know n, and even if they do n o t sign, it is know n that such and such a w ork is the w ork o f so and so; anonym ity begins to be lost. From these relationships a group eco n ­ omy evolves which entails an even bigger change because as the natural laws o f b u y ­ ing and selling com e in to play, it becom es necessary for the authors o f works to invest less time and less m oney for greater reward. This phenom enon is bou n d to occur in any system o f p ro d u ctio n . Thus, art is trans­ form ed and loses its meaning of popular art to becom e, at least in my opinion, a craft — which in reality it always was. So, when I was asked if photography was an art, I replied, “ n o .” Photography is n ot an art, any m ore than painting, sculpture or engraving. Art does not exist because m ater­ ials for painting, for sculpture or w hatever it may be are bought. A rt is created by the individual, and it is the artist who exists. But th e general term cannot be called art; it is craft. An individual can be purely and simply a craftsm an. In photography there is much more craftsm anship than art. A rt has ano th er dim ension from craft. For instance. Bravo: A t the m om ent I am p u ttin g my records in order. I have got at least forty years of w ork, and during those forty years, I have taken no care o f my negatives. When I am asked for a copy o f such and such a negative which was published a long tim e ago, it has to be looked for and a lo t o f time is w asted in finding it. T hat is why I am p u t­ ting my records in order, to fulfill a respon­ sibility w hich I did n ot realise 1 was taking on at the tim e. But afte r th a t, w hat am 1 going to do? Generally w hat has happened in the past is th at there arc periods in which I do absolutely nothing. Then I begin again w ith great difficulty and failures until suddenly I get in to the rhythm again, and my capacity for w ork returns. 1 hope that the same thing is going to happen this tim e, otherw ise. . . Picton: Are yo u apart fro m that? Bravo: records. No. doing any N othing apart work now from the Picton: What will happen to all those negatives in the fu tu re , in, say, f i f t y years? Bravo: Only tim e will tell. The have-nots are m o st easily approached i f y o u try to com e dow n to their level, a t least in every way b u t the camera yo u use. D o n ’t go o u t photographing wearing yo u r Pierre Cardin blazer over a gaudy Florida-bought sportshirt and sh uffling around in Gucci shoes. I always dress in, or take along, an old pair o f blue jeans w ith m atching attire, dow n to a worn pair o f sneakers, when I fe e l have-nots are to be encountered. I f you're with a load o f n ifty dressers, ditch ’em, p reten d yo u d o n 't kn o w 'em. Y o u ’ll see how the atm osphere improves. Keppler on the S L R fr o m Popular Photography April, 1976 4 GOLDEN RULES OK? Trained throughout childhood in painting and drawing, Am erican photographer, R o b ert G olden, turned to the camera at the age o f 12. A fte r studying history at univer­ sity, he sp e n t one year at the L ondon School o f Film Technique. He then w orked in N ew York fo r three and one h a lf years as a fr e e ­ lance photographer on p h o to essays and a variety o f social issues. Before returning to live in England, he was introduced to M arxism and the '/.one S ystem . B oth these interacted together and opened up whole new areas o f understanding. S ettling to live in L ondon, he began to concentrate on docum enting work, initially approaching children’ b ook publishers with s an essay on boxing. A s a result o f this, Kestrel books invited him to work on a series o f books fo r children. The first fo u r were M ineworker, Carw orker, Farm w orker and D ockw orker. These were all done in conjunction w ith writer, Sarah Cox. They work together on all aspects o f the p h o to ­ graphs, te xt, layout, presentation. Six more titles are scheduled fo r publication. R obert G olden is at present docum enting U nem ploym ent with Sarah Cox, and som e o f this work will be on exhibition. J o Spence talked to R o b ert Golden fo r CAMERAWORK. means th a t I have had to con cen trate heavily on the w ork experience. I have p h o to ­ graphed many o th e r areas o f life in the past few years as well. Is it im portant to align y o u rself to a parti­ cular party ? If a photographer chooses to involve him / herself in social questions, then intellectual clarity is as im p o rtan t as em otional com ­ m itm ent and good intentions. There arc so many m om ents in an event to photograph, so many events to choose from , so many angles, filters, tonal ranges, printing m ethods and controls, grain structures, depths o f field ranges, etc. to select from , th a t w ith o u t a clear-sighted view, one is lost. The socialist photographer w orks in a cultural and critical wilderness. Primarily th e photographer m ust realise his/her re­ lationship and com m itm ent to the w orking class and to th e revolutionary p arty . Once this is realised, either w ith or w ith o u t the aid o f a particular revolutionary group, the newly-developed view o f the photographer will tend to prom ulgate an association with th e group which m ost closely holds that view. In a non-revolutionary period, it is per­ haps m ore necessary for photographers and o th er artists to be clearly aligned to and in ­ volved with the m ore general problem s of th e w orking class than to be deeply involved w ith the program m e o f a specific left group as sectarianism in a non-com bat situation is as likely to close as many avenues o f aw are­ ness and turn away as m any eyes o f th e p o ­ tential audience as non-com m itm ent in a period o f struggle is likely to render o n e’s w ork meaningless. The stu d en t o f th e medium learns o f it through books, from teachers in state or private institutions, or by w orking for a photographer. In each case, the unity of form , co n ten t and technique exists and is ex ­ pressed in the transm ission o f the ideas, w hether consciously or n o t, by the w riter, teacher or boss. Underlying these ideas will be class-biased assum ptions, personal obses­ sions, prejudice and some consciously th ought o u t political views. All o f these things which influence the w ork o f th e m as­ ter will influence the w ork o f the student. In my experience, the student w ould do b etter to be in stru cted by a m ediocre p h o to ­ grapher o f Marxist views than a highly-ac­ com plished photographer o f conventional views. The technical and form al conceptions will at least be form ulated w ithin a progres­ sive fram ew ork, and in the end, the passion for a particular set o f values and ideas will carry the photographer into a thorough search for a sym pathetic technical and fo r­ mal vocabulary. Does a photographer know when their ow n level o f social awareness is relevant to the problem s o f w orking people? Most contem porary photographers are from middle class backgrounds. The em pha­ sis o f contem porary middle class cu ltu re, as m ost culture o f Western Europe since the Renaissance, is placed on individual experi­ ence and values; therefore, m ost c o n tem p o r­ ary ‘a r t’ photographs m anifest these individ­ ualistic concerns. As the m ajor experiences o f w orking people arc collective, the p h o to ­ graphs are, in th e m ain, meaningless to them . The following subject m atter dom inates the w ork: landscapes — usually in the ro ­ m antic tradition o f Weston o r th e mystical Do you think the way in which you learn tradition o f Minor White; reportage o f poor, to be a photographer is im portant? homeless or o th er politically-w eak sections o f the p o p u latio n ; w omen in various stages I th in k the way in which a person o f undress in ‘n atu ral’ situations; English encounters the craft is o f secondary im por­ festivals — which seem so o ften to sneer at tance to the cultural and political environ­ m ent in which th a t person develops intellect­ the people pictured and to dismiss the ually. These influences co u n t for m ore than subtleties o f form and technique; portraits the tiny w orld o f photographic craft and o f people peculiar in appearance o r awkward aesthetics in defining the nature o f a in a situation — often in the dem ented style o f Diane Arbus; and a host o f quasi-surreal p erso n ’s w ork. Coal picking, farrow , 1976 Who is yo u r audience? I wish the w orking class to be my au d i­ ence. Which sector or group depends on the project at hand. In the children’s books, the audience is specifically the children o f the class, and to a lesser degree, their parents and teachers. In the unem ploym ent project th a t we arc w orking on presently, the audi­ ence is w orking people in general, b u t speci­ fically, shop stew ards, m ilitant w orkers, p oli­ ticals, as well as the unem ployed. In my ex ­ hibitions, I hope to reach the same people by making the w ork available as essays on walls to be used by Trade Unions and their branches, Trades Councils, w orking peoples’ institutions and political groups for w eekend conferences, in w orks canteens, union halls and o th e r meeting places. Because o f the political co n ten t o f my w ork, I believe th a t it can be em braced as a whole only by w orking class people and by middle class people o f leftist views. But the scarred urban landscapes, the lined and weary faces, and the m om ents o f exhilara­ tion and anger are sights and experiences which m ost people are aware o f in their daily lives. It is through these m ore general elem ents o f the subject m atter th a t any per­ son may enter the spirit of the work. What are you trying to show ? I wish to reflect back to viewers their ow n experience and hum anity and provide an outline o f their struggles. In the chil­ d ren ’s books, we specifically attem p ted to create a broader class awareness and sense of self-pride in the children, while revealing to them both the skills necessary and the hazards encountered in production. In the unem ploym ent book, we hope to clarify re ­ lationships betw een past and present events, an d betw een present everyday life and the forces which determ ine its shape, especially concerning the tragedy o f unem ploym ent. Is the ‘political photgrapher’ m ore than a mirror? A m irror image is tw o dim ensional, flat and lifeless. Russian and Chinese socialist realism along with some form s o f Western advertising are ju st th a t. The term , ‘political photo g rap h er’ implies a com m itm ent; once there is a com m itm ent, one does n o t m irror, one refracts. It is in this refraction process, as a picture is being m ade, th a t the web o f subjective factors inform s the objective phenom ena. Experience, perception, preju­ dice, technical and form al expertise and in ­ tellectual com prehension all play a part in defining the nature and success o f the final p rint, b o o k or exhibition. H ow much o f yo u r work is done because you think it is politically im portant, as opposed to requests fro m publishers? I make a living by doing com mercial work. U n fortunately, it dom inates too m uch o f my tim e. The children’s books are a way in which I may earn m oney while p ro ­ ducing books and photographs o f value, to o , to me. O therw ise, as in the unem ploym ent project, the com mercial w ork pays for the political w ork. I do the la tte r when I can — evenings, w eekends, days when there is a lull in my com m ercial w ork schedule. Why do yo u concentrate on work? I have n o t decided to concentrate on w ork b u t rath er on th e w orking class experi­ ence o f my life. The fact th at peo p le’s posi­ tions in life arc largely defined by their rela­ tionships to the means o f p ro duction (are they bosses, bankers, politicians, selfem ployed, w orkers? ), and th at the central experience o f th at relationship is rigorously defined by the daily grind o f w ork (w hether caring for hom e and children, or w orking in the mill, mine, factory, farm or office) Old-age hom e, L ondon It is true th at we have no stage to present our subject m atter upon until we know how to use the tools to saw th e tim ber, hang the drapery, etc., b u t while learning technique is a prim ary step in a ph o tg rap h er’s education, it is m ore im p o rtan t to know w hat is to be presented. A fter all, the nature o f th e sub­ ject m atter may dictate one sort o f stage or curtain as opposed to another. or com m onplace (snapshot like) subject m a t­ ter. While these images may at times be in ­ ventive and appealing to m iddle class audi­ ences, they are by and large neither en ter­ taining to w orking people, nor concerned with their social or personal problem s. The subject m atter isolates the w ork from all b ut aesthetes, literateurs and students. The underlying co n ten t o f this subject 5 matter describes autobiographical observa­ tions, mystical or well-intentioned but unanalytical political thoughts. Unfortunately, the autobiographies are only as interesting as the lives they reflect; the mysticism has little meaning to people who must day by day confront the real power of the world and their representatives in the guise of man­ agers, police and foremen and women; and the politics are irrelevant to working class re­ lationships. Thus, the content isolates the work as well from the mass of the people. Because of the class nature of this work, and because the ruling class no longer occu­ pies the centre of the historical stage, but is slowly being pushed aside by a new main character, their culture generally and their photographic art specifically, like their poli­ tical and economic system, is effete. Their culture is out of step with the most impor­ tant undercurrents of this period, and though this photographic work is foisted upon the people as the true representation of the ‘art’ of photography, it remains out­ side and will continue to remain outside the interests of the 19,000,000 wage earners and their families in Great Britain. But the condition is not all negative. For the last several years, there have been dy­ namic egalitarian trends revealing them­ selves. Some community photographic pro­ jects have helped to bring otherwise isolated people together, presenting images to be dis­ cussed and ideas to be discovered through the exhibition of photographs from the com­ munity; the women’s movement has produc­ ed a volume of work which has reported, analysed and revealed to people ideas which have helped in the struggle for identity and Receiving permission, Dagenham partial liberation; the left-liberal photojournalists’ documentation of the black lib­ “ Recognition of the struggle for the right eration and anti-war movements in the of workers at the point of production to States helped to reveal the injustices and tra­ find a way to make public the true nature of gedy of those two struggles; and now in their working conditions through the use of Great Britain, several groups of photograph­ film is long overdue. ers are intentionally documenting the class British Leyland shop stewards at a struggle. Coventry plant, faced with the demand from Eventually out of these documentarist their work force to break through the barrier trends will develop the strands of a truly of misrepresentation and silence, called in proletarian cultural photographic expression Cinema Action to film their work-in. which will command the interest and serve Whilst in the factory, Leyland security the needs of the working people. men called the police, who arrested and Photography is today an accepted part of jailed the film crew, later releaseing them our cultural vocabulary, and as such, photo­ without charge. graphers should be concerned — not with Two weeks later, the Leyland manage­ photography — but with thoughts, social ment picked out one of the many stewards experience and problems which are central involved Jack Sprung and sacked him. This to contemporary life. Only then will photo­ act of flagrant victimisation was backed up graphy break out of the narrow aesthetic by the regional and national press and tele­ tendencies in which it is trapped to the outer vision, who launched a trial by media with world of human life, and only then will pho­ headlines reading ‘Leyland Row over Mr. tographers win a larger audience for their Sprung’s Spies.’ (The fact that Jack Sprung work. was not the senior steward who invited Cinema Action into the plant was ignored in “The location of the action in Coronation favour of a vicious and libellious personal Street is mainly the enclosed world of the attack against him, his family and against street itself. The community contains no Cinema Action.” children, and its members are rearely seen at work. In fact, the work that we do see going Excerpt from letter to ACCT Journal, on could be loosely described as Film and Television Technician, petit-bourgeois: shopkeeping, the running June, 1976 of a public house, Len Fairclough (a selfemployed builder) banging a nail into a wall. The ‘world’ of Coronation Street (and we “Tape recorders, ordinary cameras and are encouraged to think of it as a microcosm cine cameras, are already extensively owned of the world, a representative sample — by wage-earners. The question is why these witness for example the title sequence means of production do not turn up at showing the street as just one among many work places, in schools, in the offices of the thousands of similar streets) is safe, secure, bureaucracy — in short, everywhere where ‘apolitical,’ a place where nothing more than there is social conflict. By producing petty bickering, gossip and the occasional aggressive forms of publicity which were feud is allowed to disturb the nature and their own, the masses could secure evidence structure of the characters’ lives. They are of their daily experiences and draw effective essentially locked into, and resigned to, their lessons from them. position and role in society. The families, Naturally bourgeois society defends it­ apparently lacking children, relatives and self against such prospects with a battery employment, lead insular, isolated, static of legal measures. It bases itself on the law lives. Their dynamic potential for any of trespass, on commercial and offical action that might transform their own or secrecy. While its secret services penetrate anyone else’s existence is entirely absent. . . everywhere and plug into the most intimate the structured absences are deliberate and conversations, it pleads a touching concern significant. Their significance lies in the for confidentiality and makes a sensitive negative and paralysed protrayal of the display of worrying about the question of a working class, a portrayal that is reinforced privacy in which all that is private is in the by the occasional ‘social realist’ TV docu­ interest of the exploiters. Only a collective, mentary, where the images depict a sad and organised effort can tear down these paper acquiescent group of people.” walls.” Manuel Alvarado in Eight Hours are Not a Day, published in British Film Institute’ s Fassbinder, edited by Tony Rayns. Extract from Mass Media and Mass Society by Hans Magnus Enzensberger translated by Stuart Hood. End o f the shift, London depot Overleaf: Kellingley colliery, Yorkshire discussion before the shift. 8 Driving down Park Aven Ralph G ibson’s pictures are becoming as graphy since the 1950’ . He spent three s simple as semaphore flags. In his Q uadrant years in the U.S. Navy as a photographer’ s exhibition, 16 x 20 prints o f photographs mate. A fter attending San Francisco A rt taken 18 inches fro m the subject are his Institute, he worked fo r one and a half years equivalent o f abstract expressionist painting. assisting D orothea Lange. Before beginning his rise to fam e (see Q uadrants deals with the problem o f ex­ hibiting photographs in an art gallery. So interview), he did advertising shots fo r Eli many photographs which look good in a Lilly Pharmaceuticals, book covers fo r photographer’ hand die on the gallery wall. Bantam and Dell books, fashion pictures fo r s Ralph Gibson has faced this problem right L ook magazine and essays fo r New Y ork and A rt Forum . He also occasionally worked as on and h it it with a meat cleaver. Marxists believe that the means o f pro­ a 16mm cameraman, making a documentary duction determine the ideology, but dis­ fo r CBS and working with R o b ert Frank on tribution is equally demanding. When Conversations in V erm ont. Gibson began publishing books in 1967 painters produce an exhibition, they have to think very clearly about the problems o f with The S trip, 55 photographs from the where they are going to be shown. Ralph Sunset Strip in Los Angeles. The Hawk fo l­ Gibson is the first photographer who has lowed in 1968 with 50 photographs from a thought about these problems intelligently. play o f the same name. Robert Frank wrote Ralph Gibson photographed his the foreword fo r his third book, ACLU 1969 Q uadrants fo r the Castelli A rt Gallery in A ppo in tm en t, published by American Civil New York. A fter it was p u t up, he said that Liberties Union. the impact focused in the middle o f the gal­ As is apparent in the interview, Ralph lery. Perhaps Gibson’ best contribution to Gibson took a clear, close look at his life s photography has been his realisation o f this in 1970, and his photographs became very phenomenon. different. Since then he has published three The central problem o f our time fo r pho­ books — The Som nam bulist, Deja V and ’u tographers ceases to be political or social but Days at Sea. rather o f how their pictures will look on a Ralph Gibson came to Britain fo r the first gallery wall. Gibson solves these problems workshop held at the Photographers Place, with a painterly intelligence. Working close Derby shire,-this Easter. This was jointly run to his subjects, Gibson solves the problems by Paul Hill and Thom as Jo sh u a Cooper. o f out o f focus edges by using a depthless Everybody who was there voted it a great black. He has invented a painterly photo­ success. One o f the participants, Ron graphy. His photographs solve the academic M cCormick, interviewed Ralph Gibson fo r problems o f 20th Century painting — not CAMF.RAWORK. those o f photography. Gibson takes his pictures at 1/250 second Ralph Gibson has been working in pho to ­ at f l 6 . I rem em ber one day I was driving dow n Park Avenue with R obert (Frank), and I was telling him that 1 w asn’t happy w ith my career — 1 was in love with this girl and all these things — he was driving and I was in the passenger seat, and he said: “ Well, you have tw o choices, y ou could probably make it com m ercially, becom e successful rather q uickly.” Because 1 w ould occasionally get jobs, I had the ‘chops,’ I had the technique to do just ab o u t anything, b u t I d id n ’t have the interest in it. He said: “ You could m ake it com m ercially p retty fast if you w anted to, or you could be an artist and w ait — and then later becom e fam ous like me! ” And then he turned around and lo o k ­ ed at me and said: “ Actually y ou only have one choice! ” And th a t was enough to make me really break all interest with the notion of being a professional photographer and d o ­ ing good w ork on assignm ent. Which is one o f the biggest m yths th a t ever came dow n the road — th a t y ou can do good stu ff on assignment. So about th a t tim e, I entered in to a p er­ iod o f p ro tracted to rp o r in which I ju st slept all day and did very little w ork, was deeply in debt, had a lo t o f m y cameras paw ned and stu ff like th at. But 1 was reading a lot, people like Alain Robbs-G rillet, people like th at. And then one w eekend I w ent o u t into the country and I shot quite a lot o f film, I felt rather inspired, and I made in one w eekend w hat was to becom e the first eight­ een pages o f The Somnambulist; the float­ ing nude, th e head in the doorw ay, many o f the photographs th a t were later to becom e widely published. But at the tim e I totally co u ldn’t stand them ; I hated those pictures w hen they first cam e o u t o f my head. They ju st seem ed to fly off the contact sheet; 1 d id n ’t even know w ho had taken them ; I co u ld n ’t rem em ber w hat I was thinking of or w hy I was taking them . I printed them — 1 recognised th a t they had a certain pow er, b u t they caused me great anxiety because they had nothing to do w ith the previous twelve years’ w ork, they did n ’t seem to re ­ late to anything 1 had attem p ted to do or to the m oods th a t I was trying to generate through my docum entary w ork. I was liv­ ing in the Chelsea Hotel (New York) at the tim e, in a very small room , and w ould have them tacked up on a piece o f board at the foot o f my bed. R obert was in M exico, and he wired me to com e and join him , so I m an­ aged to get the price o f ticket and off 1 w ent. When I came back from M exico, after the cultural shock and all th a t, I rem em ber walking into my hotel room and seeing the photographs and all o f a sudden realising th a t m y cam era, because o f the speed o f its sh u tter and m any o th er things had, I believed, co n tacted a dream reality. The m inute it occurred to me th a t those p h o to ­ graphs were going to be w hat I call dream images, I then had my p o in t o f departure. I very quickly w rote the prologue for The Somnambulist in which I stated that while sleeping a person reappears elsewhere on the planet, becom es tw o people and then per­ haps chooses to do so as a voluntary idea. I w rote th a t prologue in ab o u t fifteen m in­ utes, 1 then very quckly generated a 32-page version o f the book which 1 then set about trying to‘ get published. People were very interested b u t they w ould w ant to change it, to make their own m ark on it. Somehow th a t b o o k had com e to represent an a u to ­ nom y, a sort o f reaction against all the sub­ servience o f freelance w ork. I had to have satisfaction this w ay, 1 w asn’t able to let people change it, I d id n ’t w ant to pass the buck, I d id n ’t w ant to blame anybodv for its failures. I w anted to take all the bow s and all the responsibility. F ortunately, nobody was going to adhere to those term s, and it to o k me three years while 1 was trying various ways o f getting the book published, and I was utterly obsess­ ed with getting it published. I used to wake up in the m iddle o f the night chewing my teeth , thinking ab o u t it. It was a period of great pressure and anxiety because it was as usual a highly-im poverished period, and I rem em ber th at one night 1 made a p act, and I d o n ’t know who it was w ith, b u t I p ro ject­ ed my thoughts as far o u t to the universe as 1 could, and I sim ply said in som e kind o f an arcane prayer th at I was willing to die if I could get th a t book published. T hat would be a fair bargain, my life w ould have cer­ tainly fulfilled itself and that was all I w an t­ ed! But at th at m om ent I becam e rather desperate, I realised at a certain p o in t th at w hat 1 should do is publish it myself. Som e­ how th a t notion daw ned on me, and I very quickly form ed a lim ited partnership. I ju st w ent to a lawyer, and he drew up a piece o f paper. I sold som e shares in th e venture to the graphic designers and the art directors
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEdward Barber, Terry Dennett, Mike Goldwater, Marilyn D-Noad, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerTom Picton, Margaret Walters, William Messer, Marilyn Noad, IFRIQIYAH FILM COLLECTIVE, Roger Mayne, Barry Lewis, Robert Golden, Shirley Read, Mike Goldwater, Bill Brandt
      • author_photographerEd Barber, Adrian Ford, William Wise, Neil Gulliver, Janine Wiedel, Barry Lewis, Abigail Heyman, Garry Winogrand
      • author_designerH.C. Sepping Wright (Illustrator)
      • author_intervieweeChristopher Schwarz, Adrian Ford, Martin Gowar, Herbie Yoshinori Yamaguchi, Judy Goldhill, William Wise, Jessie Ann Matthew, Jurgen Schadeburg, Andrew Mann, Christine Vincent, Bill Brandt
      • author_organisation
      • tagsquality of life',exhibitions,students,drum magazine,photojournalism,pin-up,pornography,male nudes,women's magazines,playgirl magazine,viva magazine,spare rib magazine,male gaze,voyeurism,light gallery,gender roles,usa,'children photographed',alternative representation,ikon,children's rights workshop,stereotyping of children,creative camera,jean mohr,imperialism,colonialism,capitalism,black stereotypes,mass entertainment,black nationalism,apartheid,bantu film experiment,colonial film unit,ifriqiyah film collective,box room gallery,space,a.i.r.,picture post magazine,social realism,architecture photography,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 04
      • subtitleIssue 4: Quality of Life Children Photographed Black Stereotyping
      • dimension13 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Tom Picton, Margaret Walters, William Messer, Marilyn Noad, IFRIQIYAH FILM COLLECTIVE, Roger Mayne, Barry Lewis, Robert Golden, Shirley Read, Mike Goldwater, Bill Brandt, Ed Barber © Edward Barber Estate, Adrian Ford, William Wise, Neil Gulliver, Janine Wiedel, Barry Lewis, Abigail Heyman, Garry Winogrand © The Estate of Garry Winogrand, courtesy Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, Christopher Schwarz, Adrian Ford, Martin Gowar, Herbie Yoshinori Yamaguchi, Judy Goldhill, William Wise, Jessie Ann Matthew, Jurgen Schadeburg, Andrew Mann, Christine Vincent, H.C. Sepping Wright (Illustrator)
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1) India. Israel. USA. Yugoslavia. Scandinavia. (pg 3,4) New York, USA (pg 8,9) Africa. South Africa. (pg 11) France. Italy
      • copyright_obtained0
      • signed_off0
      • uploaded1
      • origination_date1976
      • origination_year1976
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:57:32
      • created_by(null)
      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • pdf_textnr Quality of Life Children Photographed Black Stereotyping No 4 Half Moon Photography Workshop 25p Never mind the quality... The gestation period o f an elephant is about 24 months. The Quality o f Life ex­ hibition took a year longer to be p h oto­ graphed, printed, argued about and placed on the walls and hung from the ceilings o f the National Theatre in London. It lacks the charm o f an elephant but has the same greyness. CAMERAWORK does not like the show, and some o f us thought it should be ignored. But we have already looked at almost as large a show ^Problem in the City, CAMERAWORK I) produced by three p h o­ tographers fo r £2,700, and we were interest­ ed in the construction o f Quality o f Life. It cost about £12,000, but many o f the nine photographers travelled to India, Israel, America, Yugoslavia and Scandinavia as well as widely in this country. Many o f them were students at the Central School o f Art and Design. No one go t paid. Towards the end, the group had a full-time designer. There was also the director —Jurgen Schadeburg. Many lived in an old warehouse near London Bridge. They built darkrooms in the basement and had a studio on the top floor. Its walls were eventually covered with photographs selected fo r the exhibition. There was a large model o f the interior o f the National Theatre used to design the show. The building was furnished with props loaned by the National Theatre. They met every Monday evening to discuss their work. We think the show does not succeed fo r a simple reason. It says nothing. In many Christopher Schwarz I think that my main interest is, as far as this exhibition is concerned, is the effect it will have on photography within the UK. . . and about the possibility o f groups o f pho­ tographers because 1 still believe in groups o f photographers, in spite o f that experience, working together. If a magazine such as yours totally damns it, it might make it very difficult for other groups, or for two or three people to start doing something mean­ ingful together. As ambitious as that was. endless hours o f discussion, the group never decided what they were doing. Quality o f Life is a silly slogan. It is ad man's English, which makes you feel good but means nothing. It would not be used by a poet. Too much energy was wasted in try­ ing to define it. For tactical reasons, the group should have used other, more limited targets in their daily working, even if they continued to use the title fo r their final show. There were great problems in working as a group. Ten is about the limit that can work cohesively. But to work successfully, it needs special disciplines which are probab­ ly not those required in an art school. An infantry section o f eleven men works very well because they each have a common incentive to survive. A magazine collective can also work, where the pressures can appear equally perilous. Democracy with a director is bound to cause problems because it becomes a part­ nership o f unequals. By the end o f the pro­ cess, several o f the photographers were very annoyed with Jurgen. This was probably inevitable. Finally, there were pressures to be in­ offensive. Quality o f Life was financed by an insurance company. It was produced to be hung in a prestigious site, the first large exhibition in the £16m. National Theatre. It was difficult fo r it not to be visual muzak. Tom Picton talked to the people involved in the show. We have put Jurgen Schadebu rg’ comments in a box. Excerpts from s the others follow : On the other hand, maybe it is a good thing to tear it to shreds in which case anybody who tries would have to have a lot more published work and be a lot stronger before they start something like that. So maybe that would be o f value. I d on ’ see any t point in doing any writing/photography un­ less it says something. Unless it’ o f value. s Not just to the person w ho’doing it. And s I suppose if I have a stand on photography, that is very much where it is. . . O ne’got to s say something. I ’ not saying what one m should say, but one should be saying something. This can be from the party propagandist at one end to the artist in his ivory tower at the other. Both o f them would say that they were saying something. I quite agree with you. And if they’ re saying something, that’ super. It’ when s s you pretend to say something and d on ’say t anything that bothers me. I d on ’think the t Quality o f Life as a total exhibition — though there are some individual fine ph oto­ graphs. . . has got a philosophy o f any des­ cription. If it had a philosophy, one could fight against, if it was extreme left-wing, ex­ treme right-wing, if you could fight against it, then you could argue against it, you could put it up and say: “ This is what we, as x number o f people, believe. This is our state­ ment,” and then you can get a dialogue g o ­ ing. It becom es a meaningful experience. Where you just put up middle-of-the-road images, or middle-of-the-road group o f pho­ tographs — they don ’ even say: “ t We are middle-of-the-road,” but arc just there as photographs because some o f them happen to be pretty pictures but d on ’ really speak t about the quality o f life — then it’a wank. s What do you think is the most positive thing about your experience over the past three years? but it’been very good for the photograph­ s ers, as well, in their own lives. You couldn’ t weigh up and say the result is better than the therapeutic quality .it had for the photogra­ phers. I think that is why it’ such an on ­ s going proposition. We’ all learning. That’ re s where it really is strong. But eventually on e’judged, if judged at all, on the picture. s Martin Gowar: designer What do you about? think the exhibition is 1 was thinking about this the other night, and to be honest, I’ have to say what I ll thought then. I believe it is probably more to do with the idea o f an exhibition. . . than any philosophical or artistic sense o f achievment in the work, in the photographs them­ selves. Now that’ virtually saying the s exhibition comes first and the statement o f the pictures com es second — which I believe it docs. I think inside it might be like that for a number o f the photographers even though they w ouldn’admit it. t How did your Monday evening meetings work ? I’ really learned how to fight for what I ve Originally they used to be, and this is know to be right, that more than anything. I probably over a year ago, we used to have a w on’ put up with a bad situation. I w on’ t t put up with my work being, fucked around. rota. I can remember this, because it used to I w on’put up with interference that 1 know effect me gastronomically. A rota o f people t isn ’right, I w on’put up with working in a who would cook a meal. Virtually all the t t d feeble situation — by that I mean where people would turn up and w e’ either eat or there is no direction, where people are just just discuss things briefly before eating and then over dinner w e’ have an agenda o f d pissing around. things to think about, talk about. After that w e’ com e up here and study new pictures d and rejects and pictures that were hanging up, and so forth. Suggest ideas, exchange Adrian Ford ideas, and so on. And it used to go on like that with variations, week after week, so Do you think that it ’a g o o d way to put s d that there’ be a constant influx o f pictures an exhibition together? To have a group o f coming in, small prints. We w ouldn’ ever t people working like this and coming back study contact sheets. We’ study the prints d once a week, discussing? that Jurgen had selected from the sheets and look through those. One by one. Say, a yes Yes, I do. I think it’a tremendous way. s pile and a no pile, perhaps. Towards the end It’very good, not only is there a good result s 2 Never mind the Quality... o f the selection the whole thing was repeated again. Then we got down to there being pictures that were already there, that were pinned up, which were pretty definite, that had com e right through the whole time. And then it came right down to yes, no and a maybe. So you ’ have a selection o f prints d to go through again, and they’ sometimes d come up at a further meeting, week after or whatever. So there was a chance for prints to re-enter or to disappear perhaps. Often, more often than not, prints disappeared rather than being brought forward. Som e­ times it came down to voting. A voting yes, no and maybe. After that w e’ usually go to d the pub, depending on what time the meet­ ings finished, and then just talk about every­ body else, behind their backs. Herbie Yoshinori Yamaguchi Last year, just accidentally, I went to the Photographers’ Galley near Leicester Square. I met two photographers from this group. Before 1 joined this group, I had been work­ ing in theatre group as an actor. I resigned, and I didn ’ know what I should do. I have t been taking photographs since I was 18 years old. I went to town with a camera and I met two photographers from here. They invited me to com e here. I used the darkroom downstairs, and 1 showed Jurgen my pic­ tures. People liked my pictures, and they suggested to me 1 could join the group. What do you think the exhibition is about? What is “ Quality o f L ife” ? What is “ Quality o f L ife” T o me, I ? think the people or life in which people can feel some happiness or satisfaction with the positive mind. Myself, 1 feel that the quality o f life, the quality o f life is a moment in which I really feel energy to be alive, to go ahead. Always I am looking for some m o­ ment in people from outside and their faces in which I feel their happy impression, their happy faces. This exhibition is very wide, too wide. T oo many themes. Very difficult to control subject matter using 260 pictures. I feel the group lacks philosophical points of view. Visual elements go against philosophi­ cal point. Some pictures people will not be able to see contents. I think that is weak­ ness o f group. Actually, we should have dis­ cussed much more. Did you discuss philosophy or ideology? We used to, but I think since last January some photographers already fed up with talking and discussions and ran away. Half resigned. In the group but not very serious­ ly. Just carry on taking pictures. I think we should have discussed more. Still now, at this stage, each photographer has their own opinion about quality o f life. Some photo­ graphers are compromising this arrangement pf the pictures. I think we are not absolute­ ly happy. This is a difficulty o f a group working. William Wise. London suburb. “ wanted to get a I picture o f a body. Did, but none were suitable to show the quality o f life.” William Wise my time doing it, tend to sometimes follow their own peculiar little alleyway which lead back into areas that aren’o f much interest t to most people. These are quickly stomped on by a group. Y ou’ not permitted to do re that kind o f thing. As it developed I was and still am inter­ ested in situations that have never been seen. Where a camera had not been, particularly a Have you enjoyed doing it ? sort o f unusual situation, possibly bizarre. I f you were advising another group, what Yes. I enjoyed myself very, very much. Well, for instance, just out o f a discussion, t? So far I am 25 years old. This experience we sort o f talking about the quality o f life, would you advise them ?Don’ most important experience in my life so far. life involves birth to death, we have no Oh no! No, no. I’ say, stay small. d record o f death. Pictures involving death at all. And so I thought: “ Well, we ought to Judy Goldhill Jessie Ann Matthew get something.” And I think Jurgen said it How did you decide what to photograph ? would be impossible for you to get an actual picture o f a body, they w on’permit you to t I went to India quite a long time ago. Hm, right. 1 1 That was one o f the first trips right at the 1 I always took my camera wherever I do that. And 1 thought: “ went. In some cases, I tried to think o f as­ com e back with some pictures o f bodies,” beginning, and I sort o f took pictures along t the lines o f the “ quality o f life.” I purpose­ pects that 1 could cover. Being only two and 1 did. We didn ’ actually use any, but women in the group, 1 tried to cover female we do have in the exhibition a picture from ly didn ’ take pictures o f starving peasants, t t aspects o f things. Hairdresser, beauty par­ that session that involves a coffin being car­ things like that. I didn ’think that was very positive. There’ a very positive side o f the s lours, and things like that. I think in fact ried out o f a van. Indians which I think is their kindness and I’ got one picture o f a hairdresser in. ve What do you think the advantages are in their ability to treat everything with fun, Beauty stuff didn ’com e out too well. And t you know. Always laughing, whatever mis­ I went to Israel for three months just to take working as a group like this, rather than pictures for the project and to Portugal as working fo r a magazine on assignment? erable conditions they live in, which I think is admirable. They w eren’embarrassed by t well for the project. Apart from that, every The ability to see and build from other their situation at all. I went up to a site day just going around looking for pictures. people and to have very interested and in­ where mostly women labourers — women volved minds also. . . immediately, immedi­ tend to do all the labouring — they ask you What is the exhibition about? ate feedback from eight other people on if y ou ’ married and got children, this and re that, com e back for a cup o f tea in our Oh, it’about what ten people were doing your work. So that if you do something bad s in the two and a half years, and wanted to you know it, instantly. If you do something shacks, sort o f thing. It was all a big, big re s be doing, tried to get involved with in that good, y ou ’ instantly rewarded for it. In­ laugh, I think. Anything for a laugh, that’ dividual workers, and this I found too from their sort o f motto. particular time. “ s an Operetta” It’ Jurgen Schadeburg used to work for Drum, the fam ous magazine that spent much o f its time getting up the nostrils o f the South African authorities. He is now disen­ chanted with crusading journalism. “ When I was on Drum, we exposed vari­ ous abuses, but all we did was to show the government loop-holes which they promptly filled," he says. He also worked fo r a liberal Johannesburg paper. Jurgen directed the successful Inside Whitechapel show. He was also an early editor o f Camera Owner, which much later became Creative Camera. He teaches at the Central School o f Art and Design, London. Jurgen remains uncertain about the Quality o f Life show. “ People have been shown to be more important than points o f view, ” says. “t ’an operetta. ” he I s “ Through photo-journalism the idea de­ veloped o f exploring the human condition instead o f just looking at appearances," he is quoted as saying in the catalogue. “ But we wanted to be unbiased, apolitical. Not to comment but to mirror." During a long conversation, Jurgen made the follow ing comments: Well, I think we were searching for ideas for an exhibition and this is quite some time ago — about three years ago — this was after the Whitechapel — we were searching for something new, and at that time, I wanted to d o an exhibition. . . I wanted to do a book on the population explosion which was then rather important. I didn ’get very far, t worked on it for about six months, and then I discovered that the population situation had been covered by the media, especially in America, television — extensively. Then the next thing that came in was pollution in the last 60’ I think the next stage could possi­ s. bly have been the right thing to do — and that was two and a half years ago, the “ Quality o f L ife” If it’any concern now, it . s doesn ’ really matter any more. I think t what we have now is fine pictures, hopeful­ ly, which depict ways o f life, and they o b ­ viously show some form o f quality. Most o f the pictures are positive, I would think, towards life, the people in the pic­ tures, there is something positive. You were taking photographs as well? No. So it was nine photographers and you. What was your role? Well, in a way, a sort o f visual computer, people from any other mediums. It was perhaps, because not having taken the pic­ completely independent. The thing that al­ tures myself, I could be more selective be­ ways or often has happened in the past is it cause I wasn’ personally prejudiced about has always been directed by writers, and we t the images. And on the other hand, having have just tried to be as independent as p o s­ directed other exhibitions, picture editing, sible and have therefore worked on an en­ taken pictures myself, made it possible for tirely different basis. me to again, hopefully, to choose images You imply that the whole exhibition, to a which were new and refreshing and alive and said something — or brought out the person­ certain extent, is a criticism or a reaction ality o f the individuals and didn ’ suppress against what has been happening in p h oto­ t graphy. You were saying about violent them. photographs. .. I would think that in this particular ex­ hibition, we have tried to find something I’ been a photojoumalist for something ve positive, light and friendly, you know, gen­ like twenty years, and I’ taken a lot o f vio­ ve erally. We haven’ tried, haven’attempted lent pictures, I’ been in riots, and I’ t t ve ve to go to the extremes. What we have tried reacted strongly against my pictures being to do is to show life as it is every day, if you misused by editors and so on, and I eventual­ see what I mean, rather than the exception­ ly found myself an instrument o f the editor al. We’ perhaps gone for images which or the policy o f the magazine or newspaper ve show the very, very ordinary, the daily life, I worked for, and I often disagreed about more so. I think that’ a personal reaction s their choice o f pictures, because their choice o f myself against the, perhaps quite rightly, o f pictures was — had nothing to do with the the over-use o f shocking images by news­ situation as I had seen it, had photographed papers and magazines in the 50’ and the it. They selected images which suited their s 60’ and in many cases, their abuse o f those policy, catering for a specific market. On s, images. I think what I find interesting in the other hand, why do we photograph this exhibition, for me at least, is the first people and not landscapes? Personally, I time where photographers have worked • think I would paint landscapes, which I do. without having been directed by writers or Sorry, I shouldn’have said that. t 3 Play Males BY MARGARET WALTERS Pinups have always been for m en only, b u t over the last three years, the news-stands have been displaying a new kind o f magazine dedicated to even things o u t. If men have their Pets and Playm ates, Viva and Play girl have been offering us w om en play-m ates o f o u r very ow n. They are n o t the movie or rock stars we probably all m ooned over as kids, b u t straightforw ard full frontal sex o b ­ jects. You w ouldn’t necessarily guess the co n tents from the covers, w hich tend to be m uch m ore tastefully discreet than the male equivalents — presum ably so we d o n ’t feel em barrassed buying them in public. Playgirl, in p articular, rapidly developed a form ula which has hardly changed in the last three years o f its existence. In a typical issue, Burt Reynolds flashes us a close-up grin on the cover; inside th e re ’s a lo t o f p rin t — short stories, an interview w ith R eynolds, an article on w om en in TV and another on Howard Hughes, readers’ letters and sex ad­ vice colum ns. But the nudes are w hat it ’s all ab o u t. T h ere’s a four-page pull-out of Woody, o u r Man o f th e M onth, his suntan glowing as he stands naked in a lush and arty pad. Phone in hand, he gazes directly at the sp ectator, tough and tender. If you d o n ’t fancy W oody, Play g irl’ Discovery is T erry, s posing languidly on a bed. If you prefer o u t­ door types, there are some naked skiers, and for a bonus, a Play girl Fantasy w here a couple roll gracefully in their p retty pink sheets, flirting at the cam era rath er than each o th er. The whole thing started as a joke. Back in ‘72 Cosmopolitan decided to run a cen tre­ fold o f tough-guy film star Burt Reynolds, baring his hairy chest b u t coyly concealing his ‘private’ parts. I d id n ’t mind th at one too m uch. It was so cheerfully conscious o f its ow n absurdity — w ould you like to sin on a tiger skin, w ith Burt? — th a t it ended up making a w itty com m ent on all pin-ups. But the English edition, posing a d ifferent m an in a similar sem i-recum bent spraw l, fell into uninten d ed absurdity. Trying to improve on nature, to give the model th a t essential plas­ tic sheen p aten ted by P layboy, they managed to airbrush o u t n o t only his tum m y sag b u t his navel as well. Since th en , Cosm o­ politan seems to have retired the gimmick and gone back to its tried and true form ula — the cosy girl-to-girl to n e , the dow n-hom e, do-it-yourself glam our. The new magazines arc altogether d ifferen t, m uch colder and harder, and much more sexually explicit. Launched in 1973, th e y ’ve becom e big business. Playg irl’ Am erican sales are appar­ s ently well over the million m ark. ( Viva has always lagged a little uncertainly behind; in the last few m onths i t ’s been reconsidering its image, and seems to be retreating from the ‘explicit male n u d ity ’ o f the past. The editor adds reassuringly, if rath e r vaguely, ‘I d o n ’t think anyone will call Viva a prude! Sensuality will merely be expressed in new and d ifferen t w ays.’) As b o th magazines are very carefully calculated and shaped by w hat the m arket researchers say o u r fantasies are — o r w ould like o u r fantasies to becom e — i t ’s w orth looking at them more closely. They exploit a form at perfected long ago by Playboy and Penthouse: th e y ’re u p ­ m arket, all glossy p ap er, fancy cam era angles, m oody, hazy colour — and classy w riting. Viva, published by the PenthouseForum group b u t largely staffed by w om en, has som e genuinely readable articles. The editors are interested in fem inism , run regul­ ar features on w om en w ho do som ething o u t o f the ordinary, and have carried com petent pieces on rape and contracep tio n . Culture and politics are made palatable, com fortably assimilated in to this w orld o f easy living and easy loving. What th e y ’re selling us isn’t ju st sex, b u t sex as p art o f a w hole lifestyle. Playgirl offers a Californian dream o f sea and sun and the great o u td o o rs, o f creative u n co n ­ ventionality, o f a swinging life in apartm ents all glass and palms and light. Viva’ image is s cooler, m ore cultivated. New York-based, it assumes a big city chic in its readers, a soph­ isticated good taste in food and w ine, books, travel — and men. Both conjure up a con­ sum er’s dream w orld, a world th a t’s slick. hip, rom antic. A w orld th a t’s for sale. For the poetic photography is straight advertis­ ing agency art. Behind the male pinups hover the shades o f a thousand ads for cigar etts or after-shave. A naked couple em brac­ ing sensuously, ecstatically, could be selling us fancy bed linen o r a Jam aican holiday — or a b e tte r sex life. The glossy trendy co n ­ te x t softens the im pact o f nakedness and d e­ fuses sex by turning it in to a com m odity. Sex is for gourm ets and connoisseurs; i t ’s a good meal o r a good trip. You m ust n ot only have it, b u t be seen to be having it. Sex is fun. Sex is for conspicuous consum ption. The pinup sections are carefully personal­ ized. We see the man dressed as well as u n ­ dressed, and w e’re told about his life and am bitions and dream s. A lo t o f them are tough guys — athletes, a gam bler, a stunt m an, surf bum s — posed to look wild and sexy, hairy and m uscular. The p h o to g rap h ­ ers are nothing if n o t ingenious at thinking up new thrills; we n o t only get naked surfers and riders and canoe-ers, b u t bare-bottom ed skiers, and — o f all unlikely things — sky-divers. But the poses pose problem s. By law the penis m ust never be show n erect. A nd after all, even the erect penis is n o t all th a t phallic — if you take the w ord to imply the w hole m yth o f relentlessly virile and vio­ lent m asculinity. So the ph o to s are littered with predictable phallic props — guns, m otorbikes, skis, billiard cues, horses, tree trunks. And ju st in case we still miss the p o in t, the tex t underlines the butch message. S troud, a film actor who w orks obsessively at body building, ‘has dark hair curling o ut o f his u n b o tto n ed shirt, an instinctive animal wariness in his deep set eyes, he is com p lete­ ly m ale.’ S tu n t man Nick ‘takes to chicks and violence the way a duck takes to w ater’; Shep, a soccer goalkeeper, finds the joys of sex in sport — ‘a climax and a feeling o f c o n ­ q u est’ — and vice versa. Y et, w e’re assured, even the toughest man is also sensitive, crea­ tive, deep. They may seem unattainable b ut they have a dom estic streak, and ju st might dom and fulfillm ent. There is no h in t th a t settle dow n — with the right girl. So Nick is everyday boredom and frustration and ex ­ seen burying his face in red roses; Shep sits haustion might carry over in to y o u r sex life gazing thoughtfully, m oodily into the shad­ and fantasies; no recognition o f how deeply ows. And Greg, who looks like Jam es Dean, divided we are by sexual stereotypes; no h in t is also a Vulnerable boy-child’. Conversely, th a t, if sexual expeience can be ecstatic, it the more delicate indoor types — part-tim e can also be disturbing and disruptive. Both actors, men w ho are into art or m editation Viva and Playgirl tend to com ic overstate­ or self discovery — are always in surprising­ m ent. Ross, one of th eir m odels, explains ly good shape. They take care of their th a t ‘m aking love is the greatest adventure bodies and arc tougher th an they look, w e’re there is. I feel like a pioneer on the sexual told. T h ere’s usually at least one o u tdoors fro n tier.’; while Case, w ho has m ystical lean­ shot to establish how healthy and n atural, ings, pitches it higher. ‘When we find our how basic, they really are. true nature we discover th a t it is nothing The men d o n ’t go in for com e-hither o th e r than the beautiful and awesome revel­ looks. If they gaze directly at the reader, it ’s ations o f divine love itself. Fucking is ju st a in a serious, manly w ay — or else i t ’s sensi­ way o f saying A m e n .’ I t’s silly, o f course — tive and com m unicating. More o ften , the though I rem em ber reading statem ents as men are show n absorbed in their ow n activit­ silly in the serious U nderground press. But ies or thoughts or bodies. T he message is, it pinpoints the real dishonesty o f magazines d o n ’t call us, w e’ll call y ou. They rem ain like this — their determ ined refusal to adm it th eir ow n m en, as w om en are rarely their th at ‘sexual pioneers’ may find th e y ’re living o u t their w orst nightm ares, th at self disovery own w om en. These oddly co ntradictory images actual­ m ay be a trip — b u t a trip can mean an obs­ cene and painful jo urney in to ex trem ity . ly confirm ed my sense o f the gap betw een how men are seen and w om en are seen in N ightmares d o n ’t make good selling points. o u r society. Moreover, I suspect th a t even I t ’s interesting to n o te where Viva draws when the w riters and photographers are w o­ the line. Their regular psychologist, w ho m en, th e y ’re pushing a thoroughly masculine provides p at interpretations o f readers’ sexu­ al fantasies, strikes a healthy encouraging assessment o f w hat a w om an w ants. The magazines never h in t th a t we may find im ­ n o te tow ards anything and everything. H e’s mense difficulties in breaking o u t o f tra­ thoroughly reassuring to men w ho have ditional sex roles. Instead, they provide a sadistic fantasies, b u t w hen a w om an adm its nice, safe form ula for to d a y ’s ‘lib erated ’ to violent fantasies in which she hum iliates w om an. She’s b oth frank and fem inine, in­ m en, he freaks o u t. ‘I have heard and read a good many w o m en ’s fantasies, b u t I have dep en d en t b u t happy to serve a man. She hangs on to h er charm , her rom antic, affect­ read a few th a t reveal such a hatred of ionate n atu re, b u t she helps men by taking m en. . . I hope I never m eet Sarah in real the initiative and m aybe paying the bills. life, in a situation in which she might get her And if she resents the way w om en are talons in to m e.’ He com pletely forgets h e’s always being reduced to sex objects, well, dealing w ith fa n ta sy, and in the process manages to reveal more about his own fears the balance is being righted. (And anyw ay, than ab o u t S arah’s. But the message, the the men enjoy being sex objects for a change message hidden som ew here all through the so w hat was all the fuss about?) Liberation new magazines, is clear enough. Y o u ’ve is Unisex — and it’s easy, especially if y o u ’ve come a long w ay, baby. J u s t d o n ’t try p u sh ­ got the m oney. On one level, Playgirl and Viva, like their ing y o u r luck. male equivalents, are calculated to arouse anxiety. If you d o n ’t have a swinging sex life, if you d o n ’t make it with men like Woody o r Greg or R andy, if y o u ’re n o t stylish and creative — then y o u ’re a failure This article first appeared in Spare Rib, no. as a consum er and a w om an. But at the 33 fSpare Rib is obtainable m o n th ly fo r 30p same tim e, th eir message is th at any and fro m all good newsagents, or direct on su b ­ every sexual problem is easily resolved, with scription to Linda Phillips, 114 George St., a little help from an ex p ert, w ith b e tte r Berkham sted 1IP4 2EJ, at £ 4 .4 4 fo r 12 technique, or by frankly adm itting w hat issues). turns you on. Sex is seen as an escape from everyday life, a way o f shedding your every­ day frustrations and hang-ups; sex is free­ 4 WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL by Garry Winogrand (A Light Gallery Book/Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York, 1975) £4.50 paperback, £9 hardback. REVIEWED BY WILLIAM MESSER So Garry Winogrand is a tit man; is that the major revelation which accounts for America’prestigious Light Gallery selecting s Women are Beautiful as its initial entry into the publishing arena? Winogrand is also pretty big on rear-ends, crotches, legs, mouths and other body bits; there was a time, though, when he seemed equally in­ volved with photography. A genuinely effective photographic imagist appears here to have largely abdicated picture-making responsibility (or at least adopted a rather confusing “ Thing Itself, Regardless o f the Photograph”style, which is indeed disappointing). An innate voyeur­ ism has always functioned as something o f a grey area in responding to the genre o f “ street photography,” but in this newest book o f Winogrand’ he verges on pure s, exploitation. Winogrand is the same photographer who several years ago produced The Animals (MOMA), a wonderfully-engaging book, rich with humorous, eventful photographs, sharp documentary insight and a compelling sense o f bookness about it throughout. Women arc Beautiful looks like the uncertain collect­ ing o f stills gleaned from the out takes o f a poorly-conceived, self-indulgent, private documentary film. I will admit there are places where I buy into even some o f the more blatant images, suckered. I’ conditioned, and subject to m some familiar response patterns; but even heated blood finds its way to my head, and there it finds me searching for more —more about women, and more ways in which to find them beautiful. Only a handful o f pictures clearly even suggest deeper dimensions to the worlds, lives and true energies o f the women between the Winogrand covers. In his own introduction, Winogrand apparently tries to excuse this paucity by talking about “ hints” o f such information; but the hints arc either too subtle or too few to prevent the book from resembling satire, a parody o f a book on the beauty o f women. With almost mock sincerity, Winogrand confides “ Women are Beautiful is a good title for this book because they are.” Well, I d on ’have a wife t and I w ouldn’ beat her if I did — whether t women are beautiful is not at issue; it’ the s pictures. There is little evidence o f deeper qualities to womanbeauty, o f strength, strug­ gle, endurance, solidarity, alienation, gener­ osity, creativity, regeneration or anything. One picture which does seem to promise more, effectively, is placed on the b ook ’ s front cover. A young woman, less buxom and less revcalingly dressed than most in the book, stands in the sunlight outside a dow n­ town clothing store, holding her coat and a partially eaten ice-cream cone. She is smiling warmly, even laughing. A male clothing dummy (just over her shoulder) in the store window has, like the ice-cream, lost its head. She is not glamorous or seductive; but she is authentically attractive — a m other’ daughter, grown-up and real, out s on the street in the sun with her ice-cream and smile — and therein lies the real hint to her beauty. She appears to be waiting for something or someone, and has been sur­ prised though not embarrassed by the ph oto­ grapher; she is a participant. This knowledge o f her role in the ph oto­ graphing is not overly com m on in the book. As “ cover girl”though, she performs famil­ iarly, presenting an only titular promise, rarely, and incidentally, fulfilled inside. In the past, Winogrand has demonstrated his capabilities, and in doing so, set stan­ dards for the level o f his performance; it is not generally expected he slip too far below these. Photography as a creative medium is still emerging from adolescence, in a growth spurt which is shaping it toward maturity. W inogrand’work, over the years, has played s • significant part in that growth, thereby a helping define the medium. And Wino’ grand’ imagery had usually been street-wise, s permeated with social sense, an awareness of the public context o f his photographs. It is not unreasonable to have sought more from him than he gives in Women are Beautiful. The book is a set-up. On the cover we are told “ Women. . . , ” a big word in 1976, “ Beautiful,”which most must have real­ are ized by now means deeper than skin; and Women are Beautiful right there is F.verywoman with her overcoat and ice-cream reminding us. She is followed almost immediately by another sympathetic image just inside; no words, but numbers queue up the inside o f an elevator door next to a lone woman who stares vacantly at them, co-occupants o f the man-made cityspace. There is present the seriousness and I learn practically nothing from them, so lit­ tle is revealed. Abigail Heym an’ Growing s up Female does a far better jo b o f proselyti­ zing the message “ women arc beautiful"; all Winogrand seems to be doing most often is checking ’ out. em Women arc Beautiful is, undcrlyingly, a tits and ass album o f Winograndian street effectiveness o f Robert Frank’ The s Americans. Then further coaxing our appreciation ap­ pears a rambling, though often insightful, and delightful, introductory essay by writer/ actrcss/director Helen Gary Bishop, which serves to more fully reveal the world o f women and womanly identity encountering the world o f men. I am moved toward a readiness to receive photographs capable o f exploring and verifying such potential beauty — photographs which will have been made by a man. I have been touched; I am willing, open. Finally Ms. Bishop tells us “ with the unerring instinct o f the artist, he (Winogrand) had caught the conflict o f the feminine creature; the body vying with the self as person.” Any moment now we will get the picture(s), see the body o f the work, waiting behind the next page; how could we be prepared for the ravaging about to be re­ ceived? For with the Winogrand woman, the body is already vanquer, and also (through the eyes o f her maker) victim. Ms. B ishop’ s words must provide their own echoes. There are some eighty-five photographs here o f women: women at concerts, at par­ ties, at the beach, shopping, riding bicycles, entering cars, crossing streets, standing out­ side o f buildings, walking on sidewalks, ly­ ing on the ground, stretching, bending over, and more. Unaware, nearly all seem to be posing fetchingly for W inogrand’ observing s eye with the opacity o f so many model com ­ posites, themselves and their lives unknown. pics (tits on top). Featured are big tits, small tits, round tits, pointed tits, droopy tits, perky tits, black tits, white tits, black mesh tits, cocktail party tits, sorority sister tits, Sunday-in-the-park tits, hippie-on-dastrcct tits, even militant feminist marching tits. The man does not discriminate; all tits are fair game. A Sears Roebuck Catalogue o f tits. When the book first came out, one o f L ight’ people went through it to show me s the small number o f pictures “ primarily con ­ cerned with the wom an’breasts,”claiming s no more than thirteen. That’ 18% pure s breast fetish, even by his protective count; but considering the images where breats are visually or visably catalytic, or at least pivot­ al (or just obtrusive), raises the balance con­ siderably. Legs and crotch shots then take us easily over the hump to majority. Physicality is the dominant landmark where Wino­ grand’ at, and superficiality its hallmark. s So much o f the book feels like oldfashion USA high school leer that I am repel­ led. These arc often almost anonymous grab shots, grabbing ass on the way by. I have participated in that shit, and it is a waste of time. It’ too easy. I am again attracted to s it, and nearly subverted. It angers me; I am actually angry at this damn book. I would like to dismiss it as just another photogra­ pher throwing together some lesser work into a topical book because there’ some s money in photo books these days, and women too. I seem to be (partially) willing to excuse some for that, maybe because they did a better job, or are older, more revered treasures (the mercy shuck); but Wino­ grand’ not one o f them, and neither is this s book. He should have stuck to the title I un­ derstand he originally played with, Diary o f a Male Chauvanist Pig; at least there would have been a little more honesty up front, and Light might have had their million seller. I’ better simmer down. It’ not my d s book: I’ not even a woman. It is my med­ m ium, however, and good books are hard to com e by. Light Gallery has a considerable reputation rolling behind it. This was their plunge, their worthiest o f causes. It’ sad. s O f course the Light hierarchy support it, and several reviews have appeared in Ameri­ can media, all positive. I’ either missing m something really major, or have more diffi­ culty dealing with (deserved) guilt than those guys. It all leads me to wonder about the currently fashionable surge in incestuously supportive journalism embracing our bright new medium, and especially its bright­ er, more established stars. It’a bandwagon s that seems to eschew brakes. I expect the book will appeal to countless “ picture lovers”already adept at getting o ff on half-tone reproductions o f women, who will appreciate the more accessible “ real life” fantasies it permits. One person tells me o f a tongue-in-cheek humor operating; well maybe, but it also sounds like slur. I d on ’believe Winogrand entirely intend­ t ed this, though. I think, as Helen Gary Bis­ hop suggests, that Winogrand truly likes (or believes he likes) women; he adores them, like sculpture, like goddesses. Like pin-ups, he creates them and enshrines them. As he tells us in his introduction, it ’not whether s the women photographed are actually beau­ tiful, but that in the photographs he will find them so (does he think he creates their beauty?) . It is also my guess, beyond the wankers, there will be those women enjoying the book because it appears to affirm qualities, characteristics, or roles they embrace in their own lives or fantasies. In the bosom cons­ cious, snap-shooting gallery o f Women arc Beautiful, being a woman and out in the world becom e being on accepted public dis­ play, and enough samples o f feminine soft­ ware are offered so that anyone’particular s varieties can’ be far off. For such women, t the book will confirm only what they al­ ready believe and they will recognize the photographic instrument on their tails as the same, eager, quivering, dumb, vulnerable, drooling apendage they have come to know elsewhere. Flave a look and see what you think. I’ m not sure what the appearance o f a book like this suggests for the medium generally. Per­ sonally, it might mean the end o f Wino­ grand’elevation; then again, it could be just s the beginning. Things are strange right now in the photo world; even time may not tell. 5 Growing up Female GROWING UP FEMALE by Abigail H cym an (H olt, R inehart and W inston, New Y ork, 1974) $6.95 paperback. REVIEWED BY MARILYN NOAD the fair.” Nervous tension dom inates their lovely faces. T urn the page, and we find a lissome, b lo n d , baton-tw irling teenager — a com ely smile, small tiara on her head, high w hite leather b o o ts, sparkling costum e, the antithesis o f the girl opposite her on the n ex t page. She has rum pled hair, rum pled shirt full o f holes, freckles, grimy fingers She says, and I believe her, “ this book is ab o u t m yself,” b u t it seems th a t her narra­ tive is ab o u t the w om an she is now , and the photographs d epict who she used to be. This is n o t a criticism o f the b ook, really, b u t it is surprising th at the bright, assertive w om en who arc challenging their feminine roles, taking m ore control o f their lives, looked at y o u r cervix?” Chances are th at the men at the bar in th e previous picture w ouldn’t be interested in a cervix as much as a warm pussy. But m aybe I ’m wrong. Perhaps the naked bar lady is the missing d o cto r, and she’s giving them a lesson in anatom y! There is still another lady with her legs spread. She has ju st had a legal “In a w o m e n ’ gynaecological self-help group, I g o t to kn o w m y b ody — and m y se lf — s better. Have yo u ever lo o ked at y o u r cervix?” “I f I w ent out w ith a man who liked bowling, I liked bowling. I f I w en t o u t with a man who was interested in string quartets, I was interested in string quartets. I f a man asked m e to go to a m urder m ystery m ovie, I loved m urder m ystery movies. It ju st d id n 't m atter to me, i f I liked to be w ith him . I was very adaptable.” Diane A rbus once said, “I m ean i t ’s very subtle and a little em barrassing to m e, b u t I really believe there are things which nobody w ould see unless I photographed th em .” Abigail H eym an, on th e o th e r hand, p h o to ­ graphs things th a t we see every day. T hrough her photographs, how ever, the things th a t have gone u nnoticed, overlooked and otherw ise taken for granted and the thoughts th a t have been harbored far back in our m inds are suddenly recognized and com ­ prehended. It follows, th en , that if our awareness is jogged a b it when we are p re­ sented w ith a new way o f looking at familiar things — i.e., w om en — this can be ju st as en­ lightening and revealing as seeing a Jew ish giant in his hom e in the Bronx. And perhaps more useful. The em phasis in the first p art o f G row ­ ing Up Female is on girls and w om en co n ­ cerned w ith their looks and feminine wiles. A little girl stares into a bathroom m irror, a co u nter laden w ith cosm etics is ju st o u t o f reach o f her small hands, whereas across the page, a middle-aged w om an stands co n tem ­ plating her tired face in h er m irror, which hangs on a cracked wall, looking as if her cosm etics were o f no use in changing her life. Photographs of braces, trips to the beauty parlor, outrageous hats, m ink capes and Movie-Star sunglasses, lead us to an older w om an, a salesperson, who could be som ebody’s g ran n y ,p reten d in g she’s half her age. Heavily made up and sporting a blond wig, she sells revealing lace underw ear (the crotchless variety) and probably the whips, to o , if you ask her! Then on to the w holcsom eness o f highschool days — the selection o f the Prom Queen. Six p retty girls, hearts pounding in their respective chests, aw ait their fate as one, and only one, will be chosen “ fairest o f clutching a football. We are supplied with the caption: “ Being p retty was im portant. If you were ugly, no one asked you o u t. I was already a good athlete and sm art. I had enough p roblem s.” This them e ab o u t the worry of being p retty enough ends w ith a success story: the vivacious cheerleader hugging and being hugged by a rugged fo o t­ ball hero in a victorious m om ent for b o th . In these p h otographs, as in all the p h o to ­ graphs in Grow ing Up Fem ale, the w omen do n o t seem to be reacting to the cam era or posing. They are n o t self-conscious o r trying to please. Ms. Heyman docs n o t focus on the IDEA o f w om an nor is she preoccupied with the physical. So w hat is left seems to be an honest rendering o f w ho each woman IS and n o t the preconceptions o f the p h o to ­ grapher. I t ’s d ifficult for a w om an to m ain­ tain her fantasies in the face o f another w om an. Abigail H eym an w rites th at her style as a photographer is m ore th a t o f “silent observer than a p articip an t,” b u t her p h o to ­ graphs express such harm o n y , intim acy and integration th a t one forgets th a t she was ju st photographing the events and n o t actually taking a m ore active part. A ctually, the narrative (diary) in this book is much m ore interesting than m ost of the photographs. And the w ords are rem em ­ bered long after the pictures. The narrative lends to the b o o k a co n tin u ity and cohcsivencss which the photographs might n o t possess on their ow n. She w rites so b eau ti­ fully and w hat she w rites is so convincing and touching th a t I w ant to sec some pictures o f her. There arc none. I felt som e­ w hat annoyed at this — and let dow n. She shares with us her w ords, builds up our ex ­ pectations and then shows us photographs o f others. “H ow then do I want to love again? H ow then do I want to be loved? I o n ly kn o w I d o n ’t want to be loved in the irresponsible way that I could only respect when / d id n ’t love m yself. Or in the possessive way that seem ed right when I saw m y se lf as a d ep en d en t person. Or in th e adoring way that / could eagerly accept only when that love was the only thing I w atned in life. ” making choices and decisions previously d e­ abortion. nied them — these w om en th a t she writes On the heels o f the happy bride and the ab o u t in the diary are seldom seen w ithin men and women queueing up fo r marriage the covers o f her book. They are confined applications, follow the b ored wives w ith the to the text. com plaint, “ You d o n ’t m arry the m an, you She seems to be looking back on relatio n ­ m arry the life.” ships th a t d id n ’t w ork, on being a full-time The book continues with the woman wife, w hich d id n ’t w ork either — on having sitting at the dinner table with her kids, star­ “done her tim e” as wife and m other and is ing vacantly at an em pty place setting; an now pursuing her own needs. In the w omen old w om an dressed entirely in black sits she has chosen to p h o tograph, this challenge alone, by an o th er em pty chair; two w om en and personal grow th is missing —ju st accept­ on a beach, fully clothed, watching ex u b er­ ance is there, acceptance o f the dull, som e­ ant male horseply in the surf; young m others tim es lonely, existence o f w om en. The sitting in a sandbox w ith children, looking growth I see is the children growing up and less than stim ulated — and innum erable bored w om en: some are bored over their the w om en growing tired and old. therm os lunches at w ork (one o f the four A pparently there are tw o professional w om en, a law yer and a d o cto r, included in photographs o f w om en at w ork outside the the b ook, b u t cither I ’m blind or those pages hom e), falling asleep over their bingo cards or playing slot m achines. A nother is at the arc missing from my copy. The closest thing laundrom at, dream ing o u t the w indow . Still to the medical profession I can see is a group of kids playing d o c to r (actually the boys are others (hair in curlers) mechanically go through their paces at the local food store. playing d o c to r — the girls arc all nurses) and the only photograph which vaguely hints Lastly is a tired mom sitting in her kitchen alone — perhaps having a few m inutes’ rest about the practice o f law is one o f a bored wife and husband sitting at opposite ends of before a child wakes from a nap or returns a large expanse o f front porch, looking like hom e from school. On the last page o f the b o o k is a p h o to ­ they could use a good divorce lawyer. Of course, the d o cto r/law y er could very well be graph o f a w om an and h er bicycle. She is the serious lady in th e striped trousers. She sitting on a wall, alone — looking o u t over a is wearing a w ristw atch, indicating perhaps vast expanse of ocean and sky (symbolic o f the endless possibilities in a lifetim e?). I see th a t her tim e is valuable? Abigail Heyman makes co m p eten t use o f her as having emerged from the pages o f this ju x tap o sitio n in making statem ents. For in­ book to represent the on-going struggle, the stance, a naked w om an, is em ployed by the discovery and grow th o f those w om en taking the tim e and making the effo rt to re-evaluate bar where she works to lie flat on her back spreading her legs far apart for the benefit and question the values im posed by society o f the men who are casually sipping their upon those o f us Growing Up Female. beers. . . follow ed by a photograph of a selfhelp gynecological center and more women lying flat on their backs, legs spread far N o te to Publishers: Growing Up Female is apart — with the caption: “ Have you ever not on sale in Britain. Why? 6 Children are beautiful, t o o ... After building a 24'A mile nylon fence through California, the artist Christo claimed it was a work o f art because it was useless. “ Work o f art must be unusable,”he said. Many purists would want to claim p h oto­ graphy an art fo r the same reason. They would dispense with the “ applied” areas o f advertising, portraiture, fashion, re­ portage and community, demanding only the sanctity o f “ u re" photography. Too p often they are left with its only possible jus­ tification as being useless. CAMERAWORK does not agree. We be­ lieve that the most esoteric or mystical land­ scape or nude inherently has a political or social function and that function is seldom just escapist. Any successful visual statement must have an attitude and any such attitude is conditioned, however unwillingly, by poli­ tics and society. We are not hermits. The connection between the artist and photographer and the world is complicated. The pressures that go to produce a certain tone o f work are many, varying from who pays to — in photography — such mundane and essential items as film size. This mechanism is hidden, partly because it is always difficult to see what surrounds you, but there are other reasons. This path between photography and the world is one CAMERAWORK treads, so we are particu­ larly interested in Children Photographed, a travelling exhibition organised by Children’ s Rights Workshop and IKON. Its aims are laudable. “ This exhibition o f photographs o f children aims to show the variety and complexity o f children’lives,” s they write on the opening panel. “ also It demonstrates that photographers o f children convey in their work their own values and assumptions about children and society. “ Photographs are never neutral images o f reality. Nor do they express universal truths. Photographs always contain social messages, explicit or hidden. Photography and children change with society. ” But photography is a harsh mistress. What is Children Photographed? Andrew Mann: Photographs, but different from most exhibitions in that the venues where it is to be exhibited will be public places where people can happen upon it. One o f the aims o f the exhibition was to show photographs o f a variety o f contexts in which children are usually not shown, as­ pects o f childhood that are usually not seen. What interests us too at Childrens Rights Workshop is that there are crucially different ways o f photographing children, that a lot o f photographs show a propensity for bias and stereotyping. This is deeply related to our work in children’books, which attempts to s demystify the stereotypes and to campaign vigorously against labelling and stereotyping o f children, and those processes in our cul­ ture generally. What type o f places? Christine Vincent: Well, shopping centres for one, where hopefully you arc going to get a good mixture o f people passing through. Hospitals, libraries, railway sta­ tions, housing estates in new towns. Have you go t some booked? o f these already CV: We are going to handle the exhibition for the first year and within that year we have booked four libraries, four shopping centres and a community centre on the Wythenshawe Estate in Manchester and The Bull Ring in Birmingham. There were prob­ lems; just the physical side o f having an exhibition that can withstand being that ex­ posed to a lot o f handling. How did the idea start? AM: We were looking at the process o f stereotyping o f children which we sec as one o f the most powerful forces in the oppres­ sion o f children — the cultural, literary and There is many a slip between thought and image. They wanted to show photographers’ many attitudes to children in 19 panels. Several things happened to get in the way o f this simple aim. The photographs o f children showing “ d ” attitudes were “ ba bad” photographs. They chose the “o o d ” photographs and g most o f these had a similar sympathy to ­ wards children. They were trapped by aesthetics. They wanted to label the panels with attitudes such as “ cutie p ie ”and “ pseudo social realism", but lacked the courage. Another problem is that the photographs and statements were handed over to a designer who saw it as a graphic problem. Design has to com e out o f content and the designer must be there from the start. The pictures are supported by statements from the photographers. There is an inter­ esting relationship between verbal and visual attitudes, but when we saw the show, the statements were too long and mounted too low on the stands. Anyone o f even moderate height had to crouch to read them. They were ideal fo r a patient and literate two-foot-six inches high dwarf. There are differences in the panels, but most o f them are only apparent to those al­ ready well-versed in photography and accepting that “ photographs are never neu­ tral. ” Many people will only see the show as yet another cosy look at scruffy children. People try to be too clever and subtle with photographs. It is a vulgar medium which has to be used vulgarly. Although the whole show was put to ­ gether with populist ambitions — bringing the truth about photographic manipulation to the shoppers o f Birmingham — it ends with the faintest aroma o f elitism, sending messages to the meritocracy. Tom Picton talked to two o f the organ­ isers, Christine Vincent from IKON and Andrew Mann from Children’ Rights s Workshop. Extracts: visual stereotyping o f children. One o f our members, J o Spence, was a visual worker, she was a professional ‘ high street’ oto­ ph grapher at the time and her own self explora­ tion o f her assumptions and techniques and methods led her to create this photography project at Children’Rights Workshop which s was looking, among many other things, at the process o f stereotyping. Now Jo has formed the Photography Workshop with others and linked it up with the Half Moon. Those were the seeds. CV: From Ikon’ point o f view all types o f s photography can and do create certain views o f children, but as an editorial and pictures research group we select and edit and repro­ duce, and, if you like, manipulate pictures into a certain context. It was a chance to re­ appraise our work, in a sense that we always had the end product in mind, whether it was a poetry book or an integrated topics book. To a certain extent it is very much a surface thing where you are juggling with pictures and juxtaposing images to get across your own editorial comment. So it was a very good thing from our side to look again at how we operate. W in a sense manipulate re and reinforce certain stereotypes in our editorial use o f photography. AM: We saw the exhibition as a series o f panels, each o f which would be finite, would be the work o f one photographer, plus a written statement o f what the photographer thought he or she was doing. CV: It was going to be a mobile exhibition and venues like libraries would not have large exhibition areas anyway, so that sort o f thinking began to put restrictions on the size. Each one has a statement and it is an honest statement and the exhibition will be open to the viewer’ interpretation. We s haven’ been clever even in juxtapositioning t panels; we haven’tried to falsify any infor­ t mation within it; we haven’ tried to de­ t liberately play out the good photos or play 7 bad p h o to s dow n, or this kind o f thing. The statem en t has been left m ore or less as the photographer offered it. N EIL G U LLIV ER (PHOTO ON LEFT) "In these photographs o f children la m the observer though not the ‘invisible man ’. I am not sneaky and dishonest about the act o f photographing: m y presence is recog­ nised and I am there by consent. N othing is ‘ set u p ’. The ‘observer’ role is useful fo r witnessing other p e o p le ’ relationships. True, s when m y relationship as a photographer p ro ­ gresses w ith a group o f people the pictures becom e m ore charged with responsive w arm th. On the o th er hand I rarely p h o to ­ graph personal friends: th e camera becom es an unw anted barrier. ” / draw no distinction in m y approach to photographing children as com pared with adults, excep t that children are o ften more at ease and less anxious to hide their true natures. L o o kin g at a child I can imagine the adult he or she will becom e: in many adults I see where childhood has been lost. ” JA N IN E WIEDEL (PHOTO BELOW) "In photographing children / see them as evolving individuals, as parts o f a fa m ily , o f a group, o f society. C hildhood is influenced by a tim e in history and sets o f circum ­ stances. W ithout this know ledge there can be no sta tem en t o f the individual b eyond the detail o f a child or the m o m en t o f tim e caught b y th e closing shutter. A photograph o f a child running, ju m ping, or pulling facial expressions is appealing and eye-catching but in m y view it alone gives little insight to the pattern o f a ch ild ’ life. ” s AM: We came to a decision very early on th a t we w ould m ake it a public exhibition by publicly advertising for submission. This we did as best we could, n o t only in the specialist papers, b u t also the national daily and w eekly press, assuming th a t o u r press release was taken u p . In fact a lo t o f our submissions actually came via th a t process. A nd in a way it is surprising how few o f our photographic friends subm itted. I th in k this is because professionals are very busy and it w asn’t actually organised by themselves. They may very well have hesitated to p ut their w ork in to an exhibition which is specific to one them e — to children. They may feel th a t they will then be seen as a p h otographer o f children. I th in k its p ro b ­ ably som ething like th a t. Have yo u deliberately chosen som e, what you w ould term , bad photographs — either photographically or ideologically ? AM: We have definitely looked in our selec­ tion process for photographs th at seemed to us to be good exam ples o f types o f ap ­ proaches, o r types o f photographs. CV: I d o n ’t think there are any “ a d ’ b photographs. AM: We have included photographs th at we personally d o n ’t like. C V : The photographs were tru th fu l to the individuals’ feelings about why they arc photographing children in th a t w ay, and th a t’s w hat I m eant by n o t m anipulating it at all, and I think th a t will com e through by the pictures being there w ith the statem en t. There is a whole area o f photography that is ty p ifie d by the television commercial. Have you included the still photographic equivalent o f that ? CV: Yes, th a t’s on a separate panel. We felt th at we ought to have a panel th at showed children as p o rtray ed in the m edia and that would include the television com mercial type o f picture. * * You seem to be saying that a lo t o f people arc ju st playing at taking photographs. AM: Yes, they arc playing at taking p h o to ­ graphs and they are rejoicing in th e status quo. They purvey, and are actually build­ ing the status quo by creating so many images w hich arc stereo ty p ed , and which picture people in their environm ent. They effectively show ‘this is the w orking class and happy at i t ’. CV: But photographers are pulled along to some e x te n t by w hat is expected of them . T h a t’s one thing we felt ab o u t the exhibi­ tion, th a t they have a value b u t th a t you need to go a little bit deeper than th at. AM: Oh yes, its n o t black and w hite at all. B ut w hat do yo u think the photographer can do? AM: I d o n ’t think th a t one ought to stop photographing, it is clearly a marvellous technological in stru m en t, a to o l, and should be used. What I believe photographs should do is to reflect reality and present th at reality to the widest possible audience. Clearly the question is “ Whose reality and how is th a t going to be in terp reted ?” . My own preference though, is th a t 1 w ould like to see strong encouragem ent to p h o to ­ graphers w ho are co m m itted to change, co m m itted to breaking o u t o f the stereo­ types th a t we have o f oursclyes and o f our society. CV: We aren ’t suggesting th a t there isn’t any com m itm ent there by any one o f the photographers, there certainly is. T here are influences. Photographers are influenced, w hether they arc p h otojoum alists and they have restrictions o f a com m ission, and a deadline, an editorial, in w hat th ey p o rtray , as opposed to the p h otographer w ho ju st takes w hat they w ant. O ut o f th a t com es images which can — some d o , some d o n ’t — reinforce certain stereotypes. H ow do yo u th in k these stereotypes arise? AM: They arise through bourgeoise culture. O ur society is like it is because m ost o f our th ought processes arc stereotyped and re ­ duced in their potential by relying on stock quick answers, pragm atic responses to situations. CV: Take the V ictorian idea o f c h ild h o o d — it w ould have been nice to have show n the sort o f photography th a t Lewis Carroll did, where he dressed his friends’ children up in ragam uffin clothes and p o rtray ed them in this way (and they are beautiful pictures), b u t they are very much the way in which Victorial Victorian society w anted to sec children. The same applies today. 1 can see it is the dem and th at can co n tro l w hat the p h o to ­ grapher finally produces. AM: We w rote a paper which we circulated to a variety o f people in p h otography and asked them for their advice and w hat they th ought ab o u t it. They w rote back with suggestions and advice and generally sup­ p o rted us. We haven’t gone ahead w ithout actually checking it w ith th e field, w hich we did p retty thoroughly. Who were these people? AM: The people at Creative Cam e
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Terry Dennett, Marilyn Dalick-Noad, Mike Goldwater, Liz Heron, Sue Hobbs, Eric Molden, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerMike Goldwater, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Frank Webster, Roger Cox, Larry Herman, Mike Wells, Shirley Read, Terry Dennett, Tom Hopkinson, Stuart Hood, Ed Barber
      • author_photographerPaul Harrison, Patrick Ward, Dennis Morris, Josef Koudelka, Graham Smith, Bert Hardy, Barry Kay
      • author_designerEd Barber
      • author_intervieweeBarry Lane, Bill Gaskins, Bert Hardy, Dave Hoffman
      • author_organisationDaily Mirror (Front Cover), The Sun (Front Cover), Daily Mail (Front Cover)
      • tagspatronage,arts council,arts council photography committee,funding applications,camerawork printing costs,hmpw,photojournalism,tabloids,i.r.a,maire drumm,daily mail,daily mirror,the sun,vanessa redgrave,text and image,'quality of life',the box room gallery,amber associates,side gallery and cinema,zone system,alternative technology,developing,processing,picture post,wwii,social realism,natural light,korean war,bbc,television news,strikes,visual language,semiotics,tower hamlets arts project,thames television,basement photography project,community arts,children's photography,cable street,whitechapel art gallery,barry kay,transvestite,feminity,transgender,homosexuality
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 05
      • subtitleIssue 5: Barry Lane Bill Gaskins Bert Hardy and Tom Hopkinson Dave Hoffman Frank Webster Terry Dennett Stuart Hood Ed Barber
      • dimension13 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Mike Goldwater, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Frank Webster, Roger Cox, Larry Herman, Mike Wells, Shirley Read, Terry Dennett, Tom Hopkinson, Stuart Hood, Ed Barber © Edward Barber Estate, Paul Harrison, Patrick Ward, Dennis Morris, Josef Koudelka © Josef Koudelka/Magnum Photos, Graham Smith, Bert Hardy, Barry Kay, Barry Lane, Bill Gaskins, Bert Hardy, David Hoffman, Daily Mirror (Front Cover), The Sun (Front Cover), Daily Mail (Front Cover)
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 5) Newcastle, UK (pg 8) Coventry, UK. Cardiff, UK. Liverpool, UK. (pg 9) Glasgow, UK. Korea. USA. (pg 10-11) Tower Hamlets, London, UK (pg 11) Sydney, Australia
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      • origination_date1977
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      • pdf_textPaul Harrison. "Portugal” February Half Moon Exhibition , Barry Lane Bill Gaskins Bert Hardy and Tom Hopkinson Dave Hoffman Frank Webster Terry Dennett Stuart Hood Ed Barber No. 5 Half Moon Photography Workshop CAMERAWORK is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photography, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our own lives. Ed Barber, Terry Dennett, Marilyn Dalick-Noad, Mike Goldwater, Liz Heron, Sue Hobbs, Eric Molden, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Paul Trevor. Printed by Expression Printers, 5 Kingsbury Road, London', N .l. Typeset at 1RAT Print and Design, 44 Earlham Street, London, WC2. If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute, we will be glad to hear from you. Please make sure it reaches us by This issue of CAMERAWORK, February, 1977, was produced by the Publishing 1st March 1977. Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 27 Alie Street, London, E .l. (ISSN 0308 1676) 01 488-2595 Patrick Ward. Hyde Park, from British Image 2. ‘If It’ Art, We Can S u p p o rt It!’ s he Arts Council of Great Britain is an august body. It resides in imposing offices at 105 Piccadilly, London, W.l. The Chairman of the Council is a Baron, the Chairman of its Arts Panel, a Viscount. Without its £38m. last year, the Royal Opera, English National Opera, The Royal Ballet, National Theatre, Royal Shakespeare companies, and a myriad of theatre and dance groups, orchestras, galleries, performance groups, literary mag­ azines and little presses, arts centres and community projects, the Half Moon Photography Workshop and CAMERAWORK would not exist. In 31 years, the Arts Council has transformed the public’s attitude to art. The Arts Council has precise objects. These are: To develop and improve the knowledge, understanding and practice of the arts; To increase the accessibility of the arts to the public throughout Great Britain; To cooperate with govern­ ment departments, local authorities and other bodies to achieve these objects. The State spends less than £100m. annually on all forms of art, from museums and galleries to music and the theatre. For comparison, £976m. is spent on all forms of advertising; £5,000m. on education. T Photography is a very small ripple on this great ocean o f m oney. Five years ago, the Arts Council gave no support to p h o to ­ graphy. Sue Davis had ju st opened the Photographers Gallery in G reat N ew port S treet, L ondon, and a year later, Barry Lane becam e the C ouncil’s first Photography Officer. The tw o events are connected. The w orthies o f the Arts Council had to be first convinced that people were interested in ph o to g raphy. Barry Lane form ed a P h o to ­ graphy C om m ittee to advise the A rt Panel and Council. In the first three years nearly 500 p h o to ­ graphers applied to the C om m ittee for awards. Two hundred and fifty o f them a p ­ plied for m ajor bursaries, the others for gen­ eral awards. In these three years, £40,000 was given to nearly 70 photographers. Last financial year, which ended in M arch, 1976, some £ 2 0 ,0 0 0 w ent to individual p h o to ­ graphers o u t o f a total photography budget o f £ 6 0 ,0 0 0 . by It could be argued th a t th e S tate — even as benevolent m eans as th e Arts Council — should n o t subsidize th e arts. A rnold Wesker tried to encourage th e Trade U nions to do so w ith his C entre 4 2. The R oundhouse in Chalk Farm , L ondon, was acquired for the p urpose. He did not succeed. The Trade Unions and L abour m ovem ent are victims o f the same consum er culture. The A rts Council does n o t set th e cultural pace. This particular race is w on by th e a d ­ vertisem ents o f K odak and N ikon and the pages of A m a teu r Photographer. \ r ts Council patronage fo r photography is. o f course, very new. Barry Lane and the Com m ittee tread very carefully. If you look at th e past three years, y o u can see them tentatively sticking toes in various pools. Two Views in which eight photographers photographed eight tow ns was one p o n d . British Image is an o th er. So far, the w ater is still fresh, the waves bracing. Tom Picton talked to Barry Lane, ACGB Photography O fficer, and Bill Gaskins, Chairman o f the C ouncil’s Photography C om m ittee. E xcerpts: Barry Lane A doing everything. The fact th a t w e’re going into publishing and we do exhibitions is a reflection o f the fact th a t there really aren ’t lm ost all m y w ork is to do w ith servic­ enough publishing com panies or exhibition ing the Photography C om m ittee, in organising people around. O ther d ep art­ o th er w ords, getting m aterial fo r them tom ents, for exam ple, in the A rts Council rely look at in one form or an o th er as grant entirely on their subsidised organisations. In m aterial or as inform ation on which they music and dram a for exam ple, all the m oney can base policy decisions and so o n. . . . is given away to other people, b u t in fine art Preparing m aterial also means seeing and in photography there aren’t th at m any photographers, talking to th em , looking at galleries to su p p o rt. In other w ords, we have their p o rtfolios, advising them how best to to do exhibitions to m ake w ork available. apply. Q uite a lo t o f tim e is actually spent We have to publish because book publishers answering enquiries o f a general kind, b e­ are n o t publishing the m aterial. We d o n ’t cause until quite recently we and The really see it as being any kind of co m p eti­ Photographers’ Gallery were th e tw o main tio n . You can tell from the accounts, m ost publicly recognised bodies so th a t anybody of the m oney is going to help people realise who w anted to know anything ab o u t p h o to ­ their own am bitions which can be very, very graphy w ould co n tact one or the o th er o f us. varied. I think o u r jo b is to sup p o rt it as m uch as we can across the board — th a t H ow are the m em bers o f the Photography which has vitality to it, which is creative. C om m ittee chosen? The existing Com m ittee usually makes H ow does som eone get a grant or go proposals which are approved by the A rt about getting a grant? What happens? Panel. We d o n ’t get m any o th er proposals, I like people to com e and talk to me b u t w e’re open to suggestion from anyone ab o u t w hat they w ant to d o , w hat their ab o u t w ho should be on o u r com m ittee. . . ideas are, show me their portfolios and get H ow o fte n does the Photography some idea o f the am ounts o f m oney. I like C om m ittee m eet? Is it laid down? to be able to talk to them so they can u n d er­ No. I t ’s entirely d ependent on how m uch stand a little b it m ore ab o u t the way we business there is and i t ’s been getting a great w ork. So th a t they can actually present deal m ore frequent. We’re now m ore or themselves as best they can. I t ’s very d if­ less having meetings every m o n th . We try ficult to advise people how to do this. You and m ake it alternate policy meetings and have to take very m uch an individual basis. looking at applications meetings. C om m ittee I t ’s n o t necessary' to do it for people who are m em bers are all unpaid, you probably know . q uite capable of doing it on their ow n b u t They get expenses, b u t th e y ’re all unpaid. o ften there is this gap in understanding how a com m ittee w orks and I th in k i t ’s very Do yo u or yo u r co m m ittee have an over im p o rtan t. We c a n ’t interview everybody all aim? What are yo u hoping to do by th a t applies for a grant. T h a t’s impossible p u ttin g quite a lo t o f m oney into the British b u t an ideal thing. What one can do is to photographic world? What do yo u hope to talk to them so th a t they can get an idea of achieve? how w e’re w orking. O ur aims are to really help o th e r people n term s o f grants, I d o n ’t have any realise their aims. The em phasis o f our acti­ influence at all on the C om m ittee. I vities is very much in supporting oth er d o n ’t have a voting voice or anything. I ’m people doing things rath er than ourselves I 9 there to in terpret and answer questions, th a t’s why I like to talk to people because questions get asked a t m eetings. Does he really mean to do this or does he mean to do th at? or w hy this? why th at? and I can give the answers because I ’ve m et them . Which is the sort o f thing they w ould get out o f an interview . But I d o n ’t actually in­ fluence decisions. After someone has got a major bursary, how much control do you expect to have? We control th e expenditure. We keep q uite a close w atch on how th e y ’re spending the m oney. We expect people to com e up w ith quarterly accounts o f how th e y ’re spending it before we give them th e next q u arter, and we insist on seeing w ork in p ro ­ gress now . So th a t every three m onths they certainly have to show th e y ’re n o t wasting the m oney. You ca n ’t insist they give good pictures, b u t y ou know if th e y ’re doing w hat they said they w ould, w hat they set o u t to do. I t ’s n o t in their interest to try and cheat the system , really. I know i t ’ not your function to have s things in your image, but what would you like? What would you hope will happen in the future? Never think th a t far really. I ’d like to see a lo t m ore m oney being spent in the field. I’d like to see a lo t m ore viable organisations th a t we could lean o n , we could give more m oney to rather than doing it ourselves. . . We’re beginning to see an em ergence o f d if­ feren t kinds o f roles for galleries. I think th a t’s terribly im portant. I th in k I ’d like to see m ore o f th a t. More concepts o f the p h o ­ tograph and m ore concepts o f the book and magazine being explored. To show th a t p h o ­ tography isn’t a single kind o f thing th a t has to happen one kind o f w ay. I think the problem w ith m any photographers a t the m om ent is th a t th e y ’re all thinking o f them ­ selves very m uch in th e kind o f lone artist w ay, rather than thinking: ‘Well, really, I m ust be w orking w ith a w riter, or I should w ork w ith the com m unity, or I should get som ebody who know s ab o u t h isto ry ’. I th in k I w ould like to see less p rete n tio n and m ore genuine concern with audience, n o t in th e sense o f trying to please audiences, b u t a belief that there are different kinds o f audi­ ence requiring different kinds o f inform a­ tion, different kinds o f experience. That’ at variance with what you were s saying earlier about supporting the photo­ grapher as an artist, isn’t it? N o, n o t at all. I ’m saying th a t we will continue and have to continue to support photographers as individuals. T h at’s the way the grants go, to one person. What I ’d like those individuals to do is to have a greater understanding o f their own roles in relation­ ship to us and o th e r people, the galleries, the publishers, the public, all th e different sections o f the public. I ’m n o t trying to get away from supporting th e individual b u t supporting individuals who have got a much b e tte r sense o f their own place in society. It seems to me th a t m ost photographers look upon th e Arts Council as a good thing, and to o few o f them ask themselves why they justify support as opposed to anybody else. Particularly, how do they ju stify public m oney being spent on them ? Really, w hat is th e value? It is a question which we m ust constantly ask ourselves, to o . What do we m ean by photography being an art? Why are we supporting it? Photographers should be developing those notions as well. Are you saying that you get a lot o f frivolous. . . Yes. A lo t o f frivolous and self-centred things. A lthough we ’re trying to support in­ dividuals as individuals, we believe in individ­ ual vision. T hat do esn ’t negate the sense of having some kind o f broader social responsi­ bility, and I th in k th a t’s w h at’s lacking in m any o f them — a b roader social awareness. In the end, I see photography as n o t fitting traditional concepts o f a rt, it does have a m uch m ore integrated role to p la y .. . What’ your maximum grant? s £ 4 ,5 0 0 . You have to face the fact th at in the end y o u r judgm ents may be com pletely wrong. But th e re’s no o th e r way o f judging. We’re in this po sitio n , and we have to be as openm inded as we can be. Wc have to listen to criticism very carefully, and we hope we change and adapt and actually are in touch w ith w hat photographers and the p h o to ­ graphic world and everybody else w ants. D ennis M orris, fro m a series o n S o u th a ll, B ritish Im age 2. John Blakcmore (towards photographing natural forces on landscape birth, growth and decay) £1,500 Jo h n Charity /Chris Locke (to docum ent Scottish landscape and people) £1,115 Colin Curwood (towards photographing 1973/74 the West Coast of Ireland) £100 Ralph Gobits (towards photographing travelling entertainers) £1,500 Eighty applications Sylvester Jacobs (towards photographing 24 grants recommended, elderly people) £500 totalling £19,390 Marketa Luskacova (to photograph London’s markets) £800 Daniel Meadows (towards taking Free GALLERIES Photographic Omnibus through country, Half Moon Gallery, London £500 recording English people and operating free photographic studio ) £700 Impressions Gallery, York £1,600 Margaret Murray (towards photographing The Photographers Gallery, London £6,500 WHERE THE MONEY WENT Mildmay Road area o f North The Photographic Gallery, 1974/75 Islington) £200 S outham pton (for improvements) £350 Lloyd Phillips (towards docum enting the English) £300 EXHIBITION SUBSIDIES 196 applications Cecil Beaton (for retrospective exhibition, Tricia Porter (to photograph children) £460 102 for Council’s first major bursary first shown at Impressions Gallery, Paul Rogers (towards photographing the £29,145 offered York) £300 fells o f Lancashire/Cumbria and Interm edia Photography Exhibition West Yorkshire) £200 (exhibition by six women photographers Claire Schwob (to com plete ‘Women are GALLERIES at National Film T heatre, for Women’s People’ £250 Film Festival) £70 The Photographers Gallery, London £10,200 Graham Smith (towards docum enting The Photographic Gallery, Southam pton Midlands Seen. . . and Other Views, N ortheast) £400 (through Southern Arts Association); to (towards m ounting/touring exhibition Oliver Stapleton (to spend 6-8 weeks with enable Director to work full-time for 3 by current British photographers), first theatre group ‘Methylated Spirits’) £300 m onths preparing plans for future shown at Midland Group Gallery, Paddy Summcrfield (to photograph under­ expansion o f gallery) £850 Nottingham) £600 graduates at Oxford) £200 Valeric Wilmer (to docum ent black wom en, PUBLICATIONS AWARDS in rural and urban Mississippi and C o -O p tic (Photography) Ltd. (for the p u b ­ surrounding states) £400 (52 Applications; 17 recom m ended) lication o f the Young British P hoto­ graphers’ catalogue £2,000 Koslyn Banish (to photograph families in Pimlico) £600 Arnolfini Gallery L td, Bristol (towards WHERE THE MONEY WENT the costs of publishing catalogue for Bryn Campbell (to docum ent village 1975/76 exhibition by Paul Hill & Thomas Joshua school in Sussex) £600 Cooper £625 Paul Carter (to work with Blackfriars Settlem ent, Southw ark; photographs GALLERIES for com m unity) £250 EXHIBITIONS The Photographers Gallery, London £16,670 Martin Parr (towards exhibition ‘Home Sweet Jo h n Dewe-Matthews (to produce portraits The Half Moon Gallery, London £2,020 Hom e’ at the Impressions Gallery, for exhibition at National Portrait York £264 Impressions Gallery, York £5,400 Gallery) £200 Jo h n Walmsley (towards exhibition of work Ian Dobbie (towards docum enting Westway EXHIBITIONS visiting hospitals) £81 in London) £100 Dr. Barnardo’s, Ilford (for ‘The Camera Sylvester Jacobs (for pilot study of rural BURSARY and Dr. Barnardo) £735 people) £100 Ian Berry (to docum ent the ‘Changing Face W ’arwick Gallery’ (for ‘Contem porary Robert Kauders (to produce fantasy o f the English’) £3,500 British Photography) £70 illustrations in colour for nonsense rhym es o f Edward Lear) £100 AWARDS BURSARY Chris Killip (to docum ent None awarded. (72 Applications; 22 recom m ended) Huddersfield) £1,500 Jo sef Koudelka (to photograph gypsies AWARDS in B ritain) £600 Keith A m att (to photograph people visiting historic places) £700 (182 Applications; 28 awards) Daniel Meadows —Free Photographic Ken Baird (towards spending year in Whitby, Omnibus (towards taking double-decker Yorkshire) £500 Michael Abrahams (to docum ent old people bus around the country) £750 Jo h n Bcnton-Harris (to record his personal for Writers and Readers Publishing Dennis Morris (to docum ent Indians view o f the English) £1,500 Cooperative book) £490 in Southall) £440 WHERE THE MONEY WENT Jo h n Myers (towards producing Middle England book about Stourbridge) £500 Ron McCormick (towards photographing ‘The Council E state’ and ‘New Tow ns’ in Kirkby, Sheffield, Milton Keynes and I*ondon) £1,530 George Rodger (to photograph industrial heritage o f Britain) £600 Claire Schwob (to produce photographic essay: Women, Who Are We? £400 Homer Sykes (to continue docum enting traditional English calendar customs) £600 Patrick Ward (to photograph London parks) £600 Ken Baird (to continue photographing in Whitby area of Yorkshire) £1000 Michael Bennett (to photograph his family for exhibition at Impressions Gallery, York) £168 John Bcnton-Harris (to com plete project on English) £2,000 Michael Blake (to continue photographing landscape) £120 Chris Chapman (to docum ent Dartm oor) £600 Jo h n Davies (to photograph rural Eire) £130 Ian Dobbie (to photograph com m unity events and traditional festivals in London) £350 Trevor Ford (to docum ent rural em ploy­ m ent in Botswana and urban unem ploy­ m ent in the UK for use by War on Want) £840 Richard Grecnhill (to produce intim ate, in-depth picture of his way of life) £375 Conrad Hafenrichter (to photograph people’s relationships to animals) £450 Larry' Herman (to continue 8c complete photographic survey o f Glasgow) £1,024 Sirki-Liisa Konttinen (towards exhibiting at the Serpentine Gallery) £77 (towards com pleting docum entation of Byker) £600 Peter Lavery (to com plete docum enting circus life in Britain) £200 Iain Macmillan (to photograph ‘Doors and Windows’) £250 Simon Marsden (to continue project on haunted houses, legends 8c fairy talcs in Britain) £350 Neil McDowall (towards exhibition at Atkinson Art Gallery, S outhport) £52 Martin Parr (to photograph beauty spots and Caldcr Valley) £ 1,000 Bruce Rae (towards the costs of gallery hire, photographic materials & publicity for exhibition at International Arts Centre at Elephant 8c Castle) £50 Jo h n Rasmussen (to photograph rush hour on Underground) £170 Martin Roberts (to photograph Greater Manchester 8c Salford) £1,500 Graham Smith (towards exhibiting at Serpentine Gallery) £77 Lawrence Sparham (to photograph in galleries and museums) £ 80 Sean Sprague (towards docum enting architecture, particularly industrial landscape) £250 Chris Steele-Perkins (to com plete p h o to ­ graphic essay on financial exchanges in the City of London) £368 Homer Sykes (to finish project on English country customs) £600 Jo h n W'almslcy (towards producing series of eight postcards) £259 Valerie Wilmer (to com plete photographing four or five women in Mississippi) £497 WHERE THE MONEY WENT 1976/77 BURSARIES Josef Koudelka Thomas Cooper Jo h n Blakemorc Martin Parr Patrick Ward £4,500 £3,500 £2,500 £2,500 £2,500 AWARDS Lewis Ambler; Amanda C u rrey;John Davies; Colin Jones; Robert Judges; Keith Kennedy; Marketa Luskacova; Laurence Migdale; Leo Stable. EXHIBITIONS Box Room Gallery: ‘Herbert Ponting’; Zoological Society of London: ‘The Golden Years’; Children’s Rights Workshop and Ikon: ‘Children Photographed’; Northern Arts: The Side Gallery, Newcastle for touring exhibitions. FELLOWSHIPS/PHOTGRAPHERS IN RESIDENCE Jo h n Tagg: Polytechnic of Central London; Roger Palmer: Trent Polytechnic; Derek Sm ith: Sussex University BRITISH IMAGE Monograph on Jo h n Blakemore. FEE T hurston Hopkins GRANTS TO PUBLISHERS Gordon Fraser Gallery Limited: Hopkins T hurston MISCELLANEOUS Centre 161 (for equipm ent); Impressions Gallery (for darkroom s); Blackfriars Settlem ent; Co-optic (reserved for pilot distribution project). NOTES: 1. Details for 1975/76 may not be co m ­ plete, as some inform ation has been ex tra­ polated from the Council’s Annual Report. 2. Final details for 1976/77 will not be available until after the end o f the Council’s financial year in March. The Photography Com m ittee had just under £ 100,000 to spend this year. Copies o f earlier lists are available from Barry Lane at the Arts Council. 3. Bill Gaskins estim ated another £40,000 has been given to photography this year by Regional Arts associations. See b ack page fo r A rts C o u n cil b u d g et 1 9 7 5 - 7 6 . 3 Bill G a sk in s Some people have told me that one o f your problems is the mediocrity o f the appli­ cations. For example, last year you d id n ’ t give any bursaries. Generally speaking, the majority o f appli­ cations are very poorly presented. Parti­ cularly the visual part, the visual evidepce. Really what we need is advice to people on how to present stuff. Now they can ring Barry Lane, but he gets phonecalls every day and all day. He can’spend much time talk­ t ing to people. What would be your advice to people pre­ senting work? I think they should take a look at them­ selves. If they said to themselves: ‘ Right, I am the judge with a quarter o f a million pounds as a prize. I ’ going to invite appli­ m cations for it.’ Imagine the sort o f quality they would expect for that sort o f money? I would expect it very, very cleanly present­ ed, beautiful prints, beautiful content, beau­ tiful vision, beautiful imagination, the whole thing neatly packaged and presented to me as if I were a publisher. If I was a publisher s d going to publish a book, that’ how y ou ’ present it. In the terms o f a dummy, if you like. What’happened so far is that nine out s o f ten applications have been awful, abys­ mal. We’ actually had at times wallets o f ve Boots en-prints sent. That’at the very, very s bottom end — dog-eared prints, badly print­ ed, sometimes out o f focus, and they expect you to give them a thousand, two thousand pounds, on the basis o f that sort o f work. I d on ’ think anybody in the country could t justify that sort o f thing. If we had unlimit­ ed funds and we could support everybody and say: ‘ Right. It’ terrible work. If we s give you some money, it will be better.’ But, unfortunately, we d on ’ have enough t money to go that far. We’ being accused, re I think, o f not doing that. Not giving money to terrible applications in order to make them better. But that is the function o f education, not the Arts Council. You were saying that y o u ’ had people ve send you B oots’ prints. A man like Derek Boshier in fact exhibits B oots’ prints and in fact sells them. Well, there’a whole new area o f — how s would I put it — there’ a very sen­ s sitive line. The line that we try to draw is between an artist who is primarily a painter or sculptor using photographs to enhance his painting or sculptural or conceptual ideas and the photographer who exhibits ph oto­ graphs because o f their intrinsic quality. That is, the tonality and the information, the content and form o f the picture. Richard Hamilton com es into the first cate­ gory, Derek Boshier, Hamish Fulton, maybe, and people like that. They are artists using photography where the quality o f the ph oto­ graph doesn ’ matter really, two hoots. t They can be snapshots, they can be rough, old prints. In fact, it’ the form maybe s that’ more important than the quality, and s information content. I personally am inter­ ested in the information contained in the photograph, as well as the form and the quality. There is the tonality o f the thing. If tonality is bad, then information is limit­ ed. If you get perfect tonality, that is the best you can get out o f the system, best reproduction you can get out o f the system, then the information is greater. If you look at a contact print made by Edward Weston, then I get far more satisfaction looking at that than looking at an over-blown, half frame, 35mm picture made by somebody who hasn’really been in photography more t than a couple o f weeks, or maybe a snapshotter, you know. So obviously th ere’a s difference. The difference is in objective. But if you get a putative Derek Boshier applying, would you pass that on to another committee, or not? Yes. Basically, that’ what happens, but s passing things to other committees is a sort o f let-out, it’a cop-out, really. No matter s which committee does it. f it’art, we can support it! The simple s criterion is: ‘ it art? Is he an artist?’ Is If so, we can support one or the other, or both. That’ all there is to it. The Arts s Council is for art. It’ not for education, s that’ the DES — the Department o f s Education and Science. It’not for science, s I that’ something else, and so on. So, if it’ s s art, or the man is an artist likely to produce art, then we can support it. Are you arguing that photography is a luxury? I think art is seen as a luxury by the government, no doubt at all. In fact, to give money to art as far as the government is concerned in a crisis situation takes second place to actually rebuilding industry or our balance o f payments or whatever. Surely governments have always given money to the arts in depressions? In America, artists were never as financed as during the Depression. Was there a depression in America? With the American government paying people to paint murals in post offices. Oh yes. That was sort o f therapy for the public, if you like. Give them a bit o f art. It will do them good, keep them quiet, stop them from going on strike or creating a rev­ olution. It was a propaganda thing. It wasn’actually support for photography. It t was government political propaganda to actually keep the masses quiet. And that’ s what I think happens in this country to an extent with the Arts Council. The Arts Council is in effect a propaganda machine to pander to public taste and culture. Give them a bit o f culture and they’ be happier ll people for it. T here’a little bit o f that. . . s Can you say something about the p h oto­ graph as artifact? Well, the photograph has an intrinsic — as an object having an intrinsic value, rather than an extrinsic communication channel value. The photograph as communication means that it is like a railway line. You put something on it, and it goes along to the receiver. Reportage photography is really photography used as communication. Art photography is something different. It doesn ’ necessarily carry a message along the t railway line to the receiver. It can be som e­ thing that you actually want to hold in your hand and actually press close to you. You want to hold it near to your face or body be­ cause there’ some subconscious reaction s with it. And that is the artifact. It’like s touching a piece o f Henry M oore’sculpture. s A photograph is made to be seen at a close distance. For example, an Iidward Weston print is a good example. If you look at a contact print made by Edward Weston, first-class print, and you hold it close to you, it has a considerable amount o f meaning. At a distance it will have a meaning, it will represent nude in the sand dunes, or will re­ present sand dunes or a piece o f w ood or whatever. If you hold it up close to you, to the point where you can’ take it any closer t to your eye without it going out o f focus, then the amount o f information is infinite. You can actually scan the picture as if it were the real scene. So you have a real, living experience, as the photographer did when he was in that situation. Your Committee has been criticized by Geoffrey Crawley (in the British Journal o f Photography,) among others, fo r giving money to Koudelka and. . . Yes, curious. But what happened, he picked up the fact that some money had gone to a foreign person. A foreign national, even though he was resident in this country. What y ou ’ saying was: ‘ doesn ’matter re It t if a person ’ resident in this country. It’ s s where he was born that matters. And if he was born in another country, we shouldn’ t give him money. We should discriminate against him.’ Basically, he picked up duff information. The fact o f the matter is that it was only a small percentage o f the total money and total applications. It’just coin­ s cidence that w e’ had two foreign people ve getting grants around the two thousand, three thousand pound mark. In fact, if you consider the total amount o f money being given away by the Arts Council in the past three years — tens o f thousands — then it’ s not very much at all. Anyway, shouldn’we t actually bring people into this country? Shouldn’ we positively go out and get t people who are successful in their own countries, bring them in so the public in this country can benefit from it? I should have thought the answer to that is: ‘ Yes.’ It would be a good idea if the Arts Council actively sought foreign nationals to bring into this country to give money to, to show work to our nationals. PHOTOGRAPHY COMMITTEE Bill Gaskins (chairman): Photographer, Co-ordinator, Department o f Communications Arts, Sheffield Polytechnic (School of Art and Design). Keith Arnatt: Artist, teaches at Gwent College of Further Education (Newport College o f Art), Newport. Paul Hill: Photographer, senior lecturer in photography at Trent Polytechnic; noted for his and Tom Cooper’ interview with photography s gums in Camera. David Hurn: Photographer, runs documentary photography course at Gwent College o f Further Education (Newport College of Art, Newport), member o f Magnum. Ron McCormick: Photographer, Director o f Side Gallery, Newcastle. Professor Aaron Scharf: Professor o f Fine Arts, Open University. Peter Turner: Photographer, co-editor of Creative Camera. Marina Vaizey (the Lady Vaizcy): Mem­ ber of the Council, Arts Council, art critic o f The Sunday Times. Half M oon In preparing this piece, we tried to dis­ cover what photograhers thought o f the Arts Council. We invited views from both suc­ cessful and unsuccessful applicants for grants. We hoped to start a debate both on the work o f the Photography Committee and the patronage o f photography generally. We re­ ceived one letter. The only criticism wc hear is that the Committee sponsors a photography different from that particular photographer’ work. s We think that Bill Gaskins and the Committee has to make a choice, even if it does not please everybody. Most criticism reflects the understandable disappointment o f those who did not get a grant. In cases where we know the details, we think the Committee right; the ph oto­ grapher wrong. The Half Moon Photography Workshop and CAMERAWORK, o f course, get a lot o f money from the Arts Council. We do not find them bureaucratic or elitist. Several of the Committee show a close, and helpful, interest in our progress. Like all other projects supported by the Council, we are regularly visited by an independent assessor. The photography community is small. The same people are involved in many things and they are easily accused o f nepotism. Members o f the Photography Committee have fingers in several pies. They are a vibrant force in British photography. The Side Gallery in Newcastle and the seminars in Cardiff are good examples o f their energy. If you object, as some do, the answer is to open your own bakery, not to cry ‘ stinking fish ’ . The Half Moon Photography Workshop — which publishes CAMERAWORK — got £8,000 from the Arts Council this year to ­ wards our programme. We have four parttime workers, who between them, work a total o f eleven days a week. They are paid £8 a day. All other work done by the Collective is voluntary. Exhibitions and posters for the Half Moon Gallery cost £1,100 a year. Rent, telephone bills, postage o f CAMERAWORK and posters to members o f the Workshop and subscribers cost £1,516. Three new weekend workshops on Photography and Education are being funded by the Greater London Arts Association. Each issue o f CAMERAWORK costs £640 to print. We pay on a time basis for the typesetting and pasting up. This cost £80 for the last issue. We do not pay for articles or photographs. At present wc arc printing 4,000 copies and hope to break even with 4,500. Like many groups that get money from the Arts Coun­ cil, we arc a registered charity. Josef Koudelka, from British Image 2. We had to convince the Photography Committee to get our money. Every three months, we tell them how it is being spent. They do not interfere, and we appreciate their help. We hope this benevolence does not corrupt us. We do not want to be com pla­ cent. We want to help more people get those grants. If you disagree, or agree, with these three pages, wc want to hear from you. We still think the patronage o f photography by the Arts Council, or any other body, needs to be openly discussed. Every Picture tells a Lie FRANK WEBSTER ur culture teaches that any fool can read a picture. This, o f course, is merely foolishness on our part. Yet for this reason, students o f media naively assume that prose takes precedence over photography. A consequence is that a most glaring feature o f mass communication is underplayed by academics, rooted in the conservativism o f a linguistic tradition. Words and pictures in fact interact in an intricate process. Visual images strike hard at the viewer with an immediacy words can rarely capture. Yet a nod from the latter can transform the interpretation o f a photograph way beyond its initial recognition. Together as communicative forms, pictures and words present a union o f remarkable power. So far their liaison remains relatively unexplored. O W ith this in mind, I turned to examine one recent event covered in the press. On Tuesday, November 2nd, 1976, a major news item was the funeral o f Maire Drumm, the militant Republican leader, who had been killed in a sectarian attack a few days earlier. 1 looked at the Daily Mail, Sun and Mirror reports. My primary interest was in the photographic coverage and for this t m m lM IJ X ild ln»ld« your WAY-AHEAD M irror CALLAN H iltM S MUCIT IIIU U U OAF 0 * 0 STREET ' STOP THIEF! Election USA . . . FORO IN THE LEAD’ t »i»t t#e M tjet* »#i GUN SALUTE newspapers handle the situation? The different newspapers, even using the same pictures, placed varying interpretations upon the funeral by both simple and com ­ plex devices. Basic reproductive processes made the Mirror’ leading ‘ s funeral cortege’ not only larger than other papers’ o p y , but c also printed it markedly darker than the other reproductions. Additionally, it was heavily bordered in a black frame as if to un­ derline the sobriety o f the occasion. The Sun and Mail offered smaller and lighter prints. As a result, the shots seemed more distant, less striking and dramatic. It is easy to see that the Mirror’ technical applica­ s tions contained a pronounced value judgment. ’ Graveside plea from Maire Drumm's husband* Shoplifters kttk tla ret lor ESSOn DON'T AVENGE HER IRA chief beats big security net POULSON: MPs BACK scoter aim DAILY MIRROR, Tuesday, Nov 2, 1976, p. 1 . DAILY MIRROR, Tuesday, Nov 2, 1976, p.5. reason I chose popular tabloids which are highly visually oriented. I was at particular pains to discern the varieties o f selection and interpretation in photojournalism alongside the results o f the interaction between text­ ual comment and pictures. The Mirror’ front page was dominated s by a picture o f the funeral cortege (see inset) while on page 3, there were two more pic­ tures. One 7 1/2 inch by 5 inch which depicted Drumm’daughter, Maire Teresa, in s mourning. Another was a small facial shot o f Vanessa Redgrave, who was present to represent the Workers’ Revolutionary Party. The M ail’ front page contained a large s picture o f Vanessa Redgrave. It was on page 15 that the ‘ funeral cortege’photograph reappeared in large 9 inch by 5 inch format. The Sun filled its front page with the ‘ quietly’ weeping daughters o f Maire Drumm. Inside, pages 4 and 5 contained a montage o f six separate images easily the largest being the ‘ funeral cortege’picture which featured in the Mail and Mirror. The event claimed significance on a num­ ber o f criteria. Of course, it was highly dra­ matic. The symbolic import o f a funeral clusters around death, finality, poignancy, loss and such images. Add other ingredients: a prominent nationalist, a woman, a grand­ mother, a vociferous proponent o f armed rebellion, violent murder and earlier exten­ sive reportage. Most o f all, it mixed personal loss alongside public lawlessness. But why so much visual coverage? The commonscnse reply is that a picture can say with great impact a deal more than a few hundred words. The problem thereafter, however, lies in the construction o f visual images which put over the required messages. Now in a way everyday assumpt­ ions concerning the ‘ reality’ f pictures facil­ o itate this process. On the other hand, re­ porting constraints in the taking o f ph oto­ graphs at a specific location, here controlled by Provisional I.R.A., denied the newspapers a large range o f shots frpm which to select their preferred views o f the world. Having little leeway in taking their pictures (and for the major shot o f the funeral cortege, none at all) while recognizing the communicative power o f visual treatment, how did the A further reason for visual coverage was the occasion to portray a moral example o f the ‘ wages o f extremism’ The ‘ . funeral cor­ tege’ picture in some ways made this diffi­ cult in that it was only taken by the grace o f the I.R.A. who agreed to this shot in the Andersonstown Road (only The Sun men­ tioned this source constraint). In being chosen by the Provisionals, the image high­ lights three elements: a) at the centre, the sorrow and grief o f Maire Drumm’widower; s b) the coffin itself and c) the I.R.A. guard o f honour in uniform letting off the traditional gun salute. This mixture o f meanings to most mainland viewers would induce con ­ fused readings. Most obviously the death sit­ uation connoting sadness (aided by the suffering husband) alongside acknowledg­ ment and perhaps apprehension o f the armed presence o f para-militaries. Given this conflict — which in part was shared by all three newspapers which used the ‘ funeral cortege’ picture with its ‘ I.R.A. codes’ attempts were made to defuse such — an interpretation and to present an alterna­ tive consistent reading. Above all, captions made this possible. Hence, the Mirror took the picture with its inherent ambivalence for an English audience and added the words, ‘ Gun Salute’ above and ‘ Granny o f Hate’ For below the picture. The result is astute recog­ nition o f the I.R.A. gunmen though with an opposing message to that desired by the Pro­ visionals. The latter wish to show their strength, survival and determination: the Mirror can now point to the consequences o f violence and disorder. The prose neutralises the tragedy o f her death by labelling Maire Drumm a ‘ Granny o f Hate’ the same time as directly relating at this fact to the gunmen present. Thus, the dead person is denied sympathy, and simul­ taneously, the practices o f her allies are shown to lead to death. Maire Drumm’ s own killing has lost its centrality while the horror o f death remains on the stage. The moral lesson is clear: one should read the picture as the wages o f extremism in Northern Ireland. We see what gun law leads to — though we expire no pity for the dead woman since she herself was part o f this lawlessness. All we have is a general state- ment on the results o f disorder. If any doubt remained for the reader, the brief text below followed similar lines as it opened: ‘ Even in death, the Provos’hate ‘ granny’ Maire Drumm is surrounded by the symbols o f everything she lived for . . .’Any alternative absorption o f the photograph is by now unlikely. The Sun followed a similar m ode with the caption: ‘ I.R.A. Guns Salute Grannie o f Hate’ and in smaller print below, ‘ Last tribute to a ‘ heroine’ next to the ‘ ’ funeral cortege’ picture on page 5. However, The Sun had adopted a different front page to the Mirror by showing two o f Drumm’ s weeping daughters with a third female mourner (see inset). The message o f this p ic­ ture is highly stylised and traditional. The viewer is allowed to take in this classic image — the ‘ human’ side o f the situation — while the brief text channels it into a parti­ cular form o f reasoning. The commentary is philosophic and echoes biblical adages. It opens: ‘ bitter harvest o f hate that was The sown by Maire Drumm is reaped by her two grieving daughters. . . ’and closes: ‘ And even the skies wept . . . weeping, perhaps, for the dream o f a peaceful and united Ireland that Maire Drumm and her kind have done so much to destroy through the years.’ One is invited to re-read the picture as a familiar statement: the cost o f extremism and rule by the gun. The original pity in the photograph has been replaced by the saga­ city o f a timeless rule. Inside the Mirror, a picture shows Maire Teresa (Drumm’daughter) in black holding s a bouquet alongside a young girl mourner also with flowers (see inset). The image initially evokes sadness, loss and even tranquility. The words alongside, however, neutralise the direction o f the sorrow, since they deny Drumm the status o f a victim. Rather they open: ‘ Maire Drumm, the mur­ dered Provisional I.R.A. ‘ Godmother’ who dedicated her life to violence . . .’ Every­ . body knows such people live and justifiably die by the gun. At the same time, the text Daiiu nun Polling day in the I'.S__ami a remarkable finish NOW IT ’ FORD S IN THE LEAD CM hi- mr* in ft*?t «f im m y I Actress Vanessa mourns] I Grandmother of Hate j 30 pc rise in shop­ lifting DAILY MAIL, Tuesday, Nov 2, 1976, p. 1. Missing mourners... Maire’funeral is ‘ go’ terror chiefs s no for L— DAILY MAIL, Tuesday, Nov 2, 1976, p. 15. underlines the peace which is now causally related to the dead woman who ‘ finally created a little peace yesterday’ Moreover, . the caption beneath the shot is ‘ MOURNER: Daughter Maire Teresa, right, who was let out o f jail to attend the funeral’ The . mourner is negatively labelled and a conse­ quence is to question the validity o f her sor­ row (alongside the notion, further revealed in the text, o f compassion from the authori­ ties). Again, the interplay o f text and image to project a certain message: there has been death because o f lawlessness. The chief mourner has been accused o f at least hypo­ crisy. Who can imagine a ‘ terrorist’in mourning? All that remains to be seen in the picture is the unidentified child. This con ­ firms and enhances the reinterpreted pic­ ture’ theme as the ‘ s little peace’ achieved by the death o f an extremist. The Mail, perhaps as expected, given its political slant, reduced the ‘ human sorrow’ side o f the report though utilising the ‘ funeral cortege’ picture. The caption above was ‘ Missing mourners. . . M aire’ funeral is s ‘ go’ no for terror ch iefs’ The text empha­ . sises those representatives missing (and by implication the success o f the security forces), though within it Drumm is signifi­ cantly designated the ‘ Grandmother of H ate’ In consequence o f the prose, the pic­ . ture loses much o f its centrality since the subjects o f the story are omitted. In spite o f this, or rather because o f this addition, a par­ ticular interpretation o f the picture is THE Sun W IN ! W IN ! WINM The Sun 's Super Christm as Cracker DAUGHTERS WEEP A T THE FUNERAL OF M AIRE DRUMM THF. SUN. Tuesday, Nov 2, 1976, p. 1. offered. There is a funeral, the most impor­ tant aspect o f which is the absence o f the principal mourners. The interpretation o f the Mail leads fur­ ther in this direction as the text develops to suggest a ‘ staged’ job by the I.R.A. (which, o f course, failed because the chief actors did not arrive). Hence, the Mail states: \ . . some o f the hierarchy o f the Irish Republican Movement failed to arrive for what should have been one o f their biggest events’ It . adds: ‘ And the rain drizzled down on the cortege’ The viewing changes. Personal sor­ . row has been relegated and callous manipula­ tion by Republicanism is introduced. A cloud darkens over the reader. The message is clear: life and death do not matter to these people but only fanatical political goals. The visual presence in the ph oto­ graph o f gunmen and uniformed women now add to a most sinister image. But we are reassured that the ‘ security forces’ in are control o f the situation since they have kept away these terrible people who head the I.R.A. Pictures o f Vanessa Redgrave figured in all three papers but made the lead in the Mail (see inset). She is significant obviously as a ‘ . She was also accessible to the star’ photo-journalists who had been restricted all day. Moreover, she was present because o f her association with an extreme and fanati­ cal left-wing organisation. In the Mail, Red­ grave’ profile is set alongside an unidentifi­ s able and pictorially-dominant man, shot from behind. The immediate connotations are o f subversion, plotting and connections with armed insurrection. The caption stamps these ideas: ‘ Actress Vanessa mourns Grandmother of H ate’ A reading comes . over o f ties between all forms o f extremism. And so a view o f the events is offered to the reader. Not impartial, not neutral, but an interpretation o f the day’activities. The s pictures tell a story, but gone is the ambi­ valence any initial viewing conveyed. The events have been shaped and cohered into a particular framework. We have learned to read. Not surprisingly, distant spectators will be persuaded to sagely dwell on the price o f ‘ living by the gun’ Meanwhile, the . killings continue. Letters Dear CAMERAWORK, Roger M ayne’s letter m ust be answered n o t ju st in defence o f R obert G olden b u t b e­ cause M ayne appears to be nothing .more than a stuck-up has-been. R obert G olden’s interview was about his w ork as a photographer, his concern w ith w orking people, their lives, their struggle, to ­ gether w ith his beliefs as a M arxist. Indeed, th e w hole to n e o f th e interview was m odest. How Roger M ayne can see undercurrents of fascism in the article is q u ite beyond belief. Now o f course I ’m n o t saying th a t Roger. M ayne or anyone, else should agree, b u t R oger’s letter is dismissive and avoids the central argum ent th a t R obert G olden strives to m ake. What is clear is th a t if you reduce th e sub­ je c t by such sickening descriptions as ‘Culturally they (the w orking class) seem happy enough in their ITV; th e only slow way to get at them is by education and p ro ­ jects like com m unity a rts’ and further on: ‘What will R obert G olden’s 19m wage earners m ake o f his long w ords?’ you des­ troy the relevancy o f the subject so th a t the issue o f w hat you use art for is avoided. T hat is quite dishonest. I am a w orker, and I know th a t many men and w om en like m e do know w hat goes on and w hat is in our interest, and certainly know th at if R obert G olden’s photographs help us in our fight against unem ploym ent, the cuts and all oth er evils th a t our society breeds, then his art is ab o u t forcing and proving a p o in t o f view and not living in this wooly dream world th a t pretends that ‘A rt’ is independent o f man and usually ends up being despised. So w hat I say is this — th e p ro o f o f the pudding is in the eating. Let Roger Mayne p u t up an exhibition ab o u t unem ploym ent or any other social or w orking class problem and how it could be changed. If Roger M ayne feels this is not his ‘pudding’, then d o n ’t patronise the few talents that are willing to do so. Roger Cox To the E ditorial CAM E R A WORK; C o m m ittee of G reat issues — Capitalism replacing feu d a­ lism, th e abolition o f overt slavery, th e right to organise trade unions, econom ic depres­ sions, universal sufferage, the defeat o f capitalism by a q u arter o f the w o rld ’s people, the defeat o f colonial em pires, the rights o f national m inorities — have always occupied th e atten tio n o f politically aware photographers. The present econom ic situation in Britain is com parable to m ost periods o f depression in this cen tu ry and po ten tially could becom e m ore deeply-rooted and p roduce deprivation am ong w orkers exceeding th a t w hich was suffered in th e 2 0 ’s and 3 0 ’s. In o u r period of antagonism betw een labour and capital, w hat is th e role o f th e politicised p h o to ­ grapher; th a t person who understands th at n o t a single instance o f change or victory o f political freedom has ever been won over the established system o f econom ics w ith o u t a desperate resistance by th a t establishm ent; th e photographer who wraps a camera around her or his hand and sees th a t conflict betw een classes in Britain is the ro o t o f a n ta ­ gonism in o u r society and the necessity o f a w orkers’ solution and n o t the usual reform s. The cinem a, m usic, sculpture, prose, theatre, p h o to g rap h y , painting — all the arts arts — are n o t inherently reactionary or p ro ­ gressive, b u t becom e one or the oth er through their in ten t an d /o r use. P h o to ­ graphers m ust use their talents and tools in the conflict betw een classes. They m ust docum ent the resolute struggle o f the exploited and they m ust use p hotography to attack the establishm ent. This is w hat it means to be involved in the prim ary issue in Britain today. The struggle betw een classes is the basis and driving force o f all developm ent. It is wrong to place art outside this law since this due aspect o f culture is also governed and m otivated by conflict and contradictions b e­ tw een classes. Photographers w ho, like Gibson (CAMERAWORK no. 3), are n o t in touch w ith com m unity aspirations — only their ow n, should be coaxed to apply their talent for the benefit o f society. A nd, in his illconsidered letter to CAMERAWORK (no.4), Roger Mayne lashed o u t at ju st ab o u t every­ thing, including Bob G olden, a person whose w ork should be su p p o rted , n o t for its q u al­ ity (it’s good, to be sure), b u t because o f B ob’s alignm ent with the w orking class. Mayne reveals his sym pathies when he referred to the working class as “th e y ” . Larry Herman Glasgow Dear CAMERAWORK, Come dow n off th a t cloud: you d o n ’t seem to be enjoying th e view, anyw ay. Check w ith th e U nion, w ith th e yellow pages — dow n here in the street, th e re’s a great tribe o f us grafting aw ay: w orking p h o to ­ graphers. Keeping Dave H enning the Lcicam ender in business, selling pictures to to tte r ­ ing new spapers, haggling at Leeds, sub­ m itting — G od save us! — to the quarterly K odak price increases, judging each o th e rs’ prints in the fixer. In CAMERAWORK 4 , you d o n ’t like Ju rg en Schadeburg and the Q uality o f Life, or Garry W inogrand, or Space and Air, and Bill Brandt w asn’t pleased to m eet y o u . And w h a t’s this about “sym ptom atic o f general lethargy o f p hotographers” ? Lethargic photographers d o n ’t eat! What we w ant from you is inform ation and inspiration. Tell me ab o u t the new Ilford film , tell me w hat makes K odachrom e rush service w orth 58p w hen it was 27p only the o th er day , tell me when the new N ikon 24m m will be here. And I’ll tell you w here to buy glazer blankets cheap, how to get a short siphon and use less w ater in th e print-w asher, how to deal with new spaper acco u n tan ts, where to sell pictures of airships and actresses. Show me some contact-sheets. What did Cartier-B p u t on the fram e before the “ Banks o f th e M arne” ? Why did Bill Brandt exhibit such evil, u nsharp, copy-negged p rin ts at the Hayward six year ago, at the V and A th e o th e r day? And give us som ething to think ab o u t. Show us the pictures you do like, some we can see and buy and learn from , now that the British Jo u rn al of Photography has given up entirely! CAMERAWORK is laid o u t with love, and beautifully p rin ted . But n ex t tim e you get my 2 5p, I w ant to go o u t and make b etter pictures on the very next jo b . Right? Yours for a lim ited period only, M ike Wells THE BOX ROOM SAGA CONTINUED A fter driving several nails into the coffin o f the Box Room G allery, the Council of M anagement o f AIR & SPACE are still leav­ ing the unburied corpse to decay in full view to anyone walking dow n Shaftesbury Avenue. It is now 4 m onths since the Box Room closed. The space has hardly been used since and only then as an extension to the AIR Gallery. Following our com m ents in th e last issue o f CAMERAWORK, we were invited by the staff o f AIR & SPACE to discuss the possi­ ble fu tu re use o f the space. We have since subm itted a proposal for its con tin u ed use as a photographic gallery. The staff, however, do n o t have the au th o rity to m ake policy decisions. It seems th at the Council o f M anagement are so lost in a fog o f indecision th a t they can ’t m ake up their minds about anything. If they haven’t the tim e or com m itm ent to m ake decisions about policy, they should hand over decision-making pow er to the staff. I t’s ab o u t tim e they got their fingers out. Shirley Read and Mike G oldw ater Forever Amber Associates are a in Newcastle noted for enterprise. Started seven years ago by Murray has made Ambertheir photographedfilm and photography cooperative Martin, itrecently good films; the Northeast; produced slides; and started recording the building of Newcastle’s metro. On January 16, they opened the Side Gallery and Cinema, the most ambitious centre for film and photography in the north of England. Ron M cCormick, D irector o f the new gallery says: “We are devoted to the p ro ­ m otion o f fine p h o to g rap h y .” There is 1,840 square feet of exhibition space on three floors o f the converted 18th-century w arehouse in the centre o f Newcastle. A m ber has had support for the gallery and cinem a from N orthern A rts, British Film In stitu te, Arts Council, T yne and Wear C ounty Council, G ulbenkian Foundation and M anpower Services Com m ission. C on­ version cost £ 8 0 ,0 0 0 ; £ 3 0 ,0 0 0 for labour supplied by the M anpower Services Commission. First exhibition is “ D ocum ents in the N ortheast,” 130 photographs o f Tyneside by Graham Smith and Sirkka Lissa K onttin en , b o th A m ber m em bers, and tw o other Tyneside photographers, Jam es Cleat and R obert Carling. Jam es Henry Cleat photographed South Shields in the Thirties. Robert H am ilton Carling w orked there from 1895. The cinem a is showing films associated G rah am S m ith , fro m “ D o cu m en ts in th e N o rth E ast” . with p o rts and m ining: L ’ Atalanta, Port o f Call, On the W aterfront and Stars L ook Down. The whole season celebrates films and film-makers who have influenced Amber. The Gallery opens Wednesday to Sunday, 12 noon to 8 p .m ., adm ission free. The rinem a is open on the same days in the even­ ing. “ D ocum ents in th e N o rth east” co n tin ­ ues until February 13. O ther shows planned for th e next six m onths include w ork by Berenice A b b o tt, Imogen Cunningham , Chris Killip, further orork by G raham Sm ith and Sirkka Lissa K onttinen, a large group show — “ Singular Realities” — o f new British work including Paul Hill, Bob Blakcm ore, Peter T urner, Lewis A m bler, Paddy Sum m erfield and K urt Benning. There will also be exhibitions by Viva, the French cooperative, an d a large (how of th e best w ork from stu d en ts and ueoplc ju st o u t o f college “ British Im age.” Ron McCormick (see CAM F. R A WORK 1 R o b e rt H am ilto n C arling, fro m “ D o c u m e n ts in th e N o rth E a s t” . and 3), is already well-known as a p h o to ­ grapher. As well as organising “ Problem in the C ity ” , Ron once directed the Half Moon Gallery. The cinem a is run by R obert Buck. There arc interesting cultural distinctions betw een Amber Associates and their new Side G allery. A m ber hides its sophistication under local colours. Ron nails his firm ly to the international m ast. Amber has p ain ted th e cinem a red and green, as fam iliar to the locals as Newcastle Brown. Front doors in Tyneside arc painted th e same red. They are also th e regim ental colours o f th e Durham Light Infantry. Ron has chosen H abitat chocolate and yellow for the Side G allery. The exhibition walls are p ainted a 15% reflectance Kodak grey. CAMERAWORK asked him w hy. “ Because I d o n ’t think small black p h o to ­ graphs w ith large w hite m ounts look very good on large, w hite w alls.” We look forw ard to reporting on the new gallery’s success. -j-o m p j c t o n n understanding and study of ideological content (the photograph’s social and political message) is central to the production of a meaningful image. Equally important is the question of form (the physical and material means through which the content is expressed) and the inter-relationships of form with content. However, here we are concerned with the more practical problem of presenting a basic grammar of techniques for making good prints. This no longer seems to be very high on the list of priorities of photographic manufacturers. They now produce less and less information about their increasingly-narrow and unresponsive range of printing materials. Most colleges now allocate fewer teaching hours to basic craft practice, despite the obvious lack of skill of many students leaving college. A In th e p ast, variations in exposure and the uncertainties o f sh u tter, lens and film , forced the photographer to pay due care to questions of craft. M anufacturers were obliged to supply a range o f m aterials and form ula which pushed the existing technol­ ogy to th e lim its. T oday, we have equip­ m ent and film m aterial beyond th e wildest dream s of the earliest photographers, but our craft practice has in m ost cases sunk to th a t o f the ju n io r apprentice unable to do m ore than mix a packaged developer or run o ff a few indifferent enlargem ents. We have becom e consum ers. This chart is an attem p t to halt this trend. Most o f the concepts are n o t new , b u t some o f the m ethods are im ­ provem ents m ade during my w ork as a scientific and technical photographer, as well as in the course o f a recent archival p h o to ­ graphic project which involved printing 15,000 early glass negatives o n to m odern paper. The procedures relate to w ork w ith existing negatives. For the m ost thorough-going synthesis betw een visualisation and th e final image, photographers should expose and develop their negatives according to th e Zone System , a m ethod th at can be self-taught in roughly a year by consulting the books listed in the bibliography and carrying o ut the p ro ­ gramm es outlined in them . Integral to using any o f these m ethods is th e need for consis­ ten t and readily-available records of all in ­ form ation gleaned during testing procedures. This will enable m axim um standardization and save hours o f tim e w ith needless re-testing. Careful and consistent darkroom technique is a prim ary requisite for all photography. SOURCES OF MATERIALS* Photographic Chemicals: B.D.H. CHEMICALS LTD Poole, D orset RAY COLOUR LTD Rayco Works, Blackwater Way, Ash R oad, A ldershot, Hants. LEWIS CAMERA SHOP 20 Abbey Street A ccrington, Lancs. Opal Sc Coloured Perspex: MICHAEL and POI.GAR 41 Blandford Street L ondon, W .l. HOPKIN WILLIAMS LTD Chadwell H eath, Essex C. RASBURN 39 Woodlea Grove Y eadon West, Y orkshire Light Sources for Enlargers: DeVERE 3rd fl, 149 Fleet Street L ondon, E.C.4. Neutral D ensity Filters: KODAK LTD 246 High H olborn L ondon, W .C .l. DEVELOPER MODIFICATION A lthough co n trast is to a large ex ten t The results produced by divided develop­ ‘built in ’ to m odern papers, some extra c o n ­ m ent can be varied by changing the com pos­ trol is still possible with th e following ition o f Bath A. Softer results can be o b ­ tained w ith a plain m etol solution, and m ethods: harder contrast with h y droquinone as the 1. Divided D evelopm ent main developing agent, in the m anner o f the Tw o-bath or divided developm ent is used well-known variable co n trast ‘Dr. Beers’ extensively for negative processing b ut n o t developer. m uch atten tio n has been given to its use as a p rin t developer. D evolopm cnt is in tw o stages: a) Saturation — the exposed paper is first placed in a developing solution fo rm u ­ FORMULA lated w ith o u t alkali, which loads the em uls­ for Variable C ontrast Divided Developer ion w ith developing agents, and then (Terry D ennett) b) A ctivation — in a second alkaline bath which chem ically reacts with the develop­ Bath A (A /l): ing agents to rapidly produce a fully-devel­ M e to l.......................................................... 8gm oped p rin t. S ulphite.....................................................23gm Potassium B r o m id e .............................1.1 gm Water t o ............................................... lOOOcc FORMULA P.Q. Divided Developer (for prints, negatives & slides) Bath A Water ( 1 2 5 ° ) ............................. 750cc P h e n id o n e .................................. 0.2gm Sodium S u lp h ite ........................45gm Hy d ro q u in o n e................................ 8gm Potassium M ctabisulphite . . . .3gm Potassium B r o m id e ..................... 3gm Kodak anti-fog n o. 1 ................. 50cc Water to ...................................... lOOOcc Bath B (A /2): H y d ro q u in o n e .........................................8gm S ulphite.....................................................23gm Potassium B r o m id e ................................ 4gm Water t o ............................................... lOOOcc CONTRAST TABLE Bath A SOFT Bath B W a t e r ............................................750cc Sodium S u lp h ite ........................40gm Sodium C a rb o n a te................... lOOgm Water to ...................................... lOOOcc Solution A /l NORMAL A /l + A/2 HARD A/2 Follow treatm en t in Bath A METHOD: Soak in Bath A for 2 m inutes METHOD: (no developm ent takes place), then tran s­ solution by im m ersion w ith o u t rinsing in the fer w ith o u t rinsing to Bath B and leave until Carbonate Sulphite (B) bath given in the developm ent is com plete (about 1 m inute). previous form ula. Wash and fix as norm al. * L ook in the Yellow Pages fo r others. FLASHING Flashing is one o f the m ost useful m ethods o f controlling paper con trast. It is carried o u t by exposing the print to a co n ­ trolled am ount of light, either before the main exposure to the negative (preflashing), or after (post-flashing). The sim plest way to achieve this w ithout taking the negative out of the enlarger is to hold a small sheet of opal perspex under the lens. This gives a diffused, (non-image-forming) light. The flash exposure should last as long as th at required for a norm al p rin t. More co n ­ sistent results can be achieved by using the standardized equipm ent show n here: With a controlled technique, this process is capable of very great refinem ent including spot printing and variation of unsharp masking. HF.RSCHEL EFFECT The ‘Herschel effec t’ reduces con trast, semi-selectively produces a greater effect in the m ost strongly-exposed parts of the image. The Herschel effect is produced by subjecting the exposed (but undeveloped) p rin t to a further exposure o f red light. This produces a contrast-reducing fogging effect similar to w hite l
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Terry Dennett, Marylin Dalick-Noad, Mike Goldwater, Liz Heron, Sue Hobbs, Eric Molden, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerTom Picton, Jo Spence, John Berger, Nick Hedges, Steve Hoare, John Tagg, League of Socialist Artists, David Hoffman, Clark Kent, Colin Osman, Albert Camus, Chris Steele Perkins, Institute of Incorporated Photographers, Roger Mayne, Dick Huntington, George Solomonides, Ed Barber, Mike Goldwater, Terry Dennett
      • author_photographerBob Long, Ed Barber, Nick Hedges, Steve Hoare, Paul Strand, Neil Martinson, Michael Ann Mullen, Richard Greenhill, Erwin Kneidinger, Gerhard Ludwig, Erika Sulzer-Kleinemeier, Bob Carlos-Clarke, Anwar Hossain, Struan Robertson, Henry Angelo-Castrillon
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweeBill Gaskins, Barry Lane, Lou Lessen, Annie Spike
      • author_organisationInstitute of Incorporated Photographers, League of Socialist Artists
      • tagspaul strand,social realism,neo-realism,portrait photography,factories,industrial,class,photography as evidence,documentary,children's photography,half moon photography workshop al collective,commercial photography,viewpoint,curriculum,pinhole,alternative technology,depth of focus,amateur,'working lives',centreprise publishing project,workers' al association,work,routine,nude,ethnography,art photography,objectification,capitalism,mass reproduction,printing,picture post magazine,marxism,robert golden,roger mayne
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 06
      • subtitleIssue 6: John Berger, Steve Hoare, Tom Picton, Nick Hedges, Roger Mayne, Jo Spence, John Tagg
      • dimension13 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, John Berger, Nick Hedges, Steve Hoare, John Tagg, League of Socialist Artists, David Hoffman, Clark Kent, Colin Osman, Albert Camus, Chris Steele Perkins, Institute of Incorporated Photographers, Roger Mayne, Dick Huntington, George Solomonides, Ed Barber © Edward Barber Estate, Mike Goldwater, Terry Dennett, Bob Long, Paul Strand, Neil Martinson, Michael Ann Mullen, Richard Greenhill, Erwin Kneidinger, Gerhard Ludwig, Erika Sulzer-Kleinemeier, Bob Carlos-Clarke, Anwar Hossain, Struan Robertson, Henry Angelo-Castrillon, Bill Gaskins, Barry Lane, Lou Lessen, Annie Spike
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      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1) New York, USA. Mexico. New England, USA. Hebrides, Scotland, UK. USA. France. Italy. Egypt. Ghana. Romania (pg 2,3) Wolverhampton, UK (pg 4) Hackney, London, UK (pg 8) Austria. Germany. South Africa. Istanbul. Bangladesh (pg 11) North Kensington, London, UK. Leeds, UK. Lambeth, London, UK
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      • pdf_textBob Long "Photo Montage” May Half MoonExhibition , John Berger Nick Hedges Steve Hoare Roger Mayne Tom Picton Jo Spence John Tagg No.6 Half Moon Photography Workshop 30 p E w an M acL eo d , S o u th U ist, H eb rid es 1 9 5 4 PAUL STRAND 1890-1976 here is a widespread assumption that if one is interested in the visual, one’s interest must be limited to a technique of somehow treating the visual. Thus the visual is divided into categories of special interest: painting, photography, real appearances, dreams and so on. And what is forgotten —like all essential questions in a positivist culture — is the meaning and enigma of visibility itself. T I th in k of this because I w ant to describe w hat I can see in tw o books which are in fro n t o f me. They are tw o volumes o f a retrospective m onograph (published by A p ertu re, New Y ork), on the w ork o f Paul Strand. The first photographs date from 1915, w hen S trand was a sort o f pupil of A lfred Stieglitz; the m ost recent ones were taken in 1968 — though S trand, w ho died in March, 1976 at th e age o f 85, w orked after th a t. The earliest w orks deal m ostly with people and sites in New Y ork. T he first of them shows a half-blind beggar w om an. One of her eyes is opaque, the oth er sharp and w ary. R ound her neck she wears a label w ith BLIND p rin ted on it. It is an image w ith a clear social message. But it is som e­ th in g else, too. We shall see later th a t in all S tra n d ’s best photographs of people, he p re ­ sented us w ith the visible evidence, not ju st o f their presence, b u t o f their life. At one level, such evidence o f a life is social com m ent — S trand consistently to o k a left political position — b u t, at a different level, such evidence serves to suggest visually the to ta lity o f another lived life, from w ithin w hich we ourselves are no m ore than a sight. This is why the black letters B-L-I-N-D on a w hite label do m ore than spell the word. While the picture remains in fro n t of us, we can never take them as read. The earliest image in the book forces us to reflect on the significance of seeing itself. T he n ext photographs, from the 1920’s, includes photographs o f m achine parts and close-ups o f various natural form s — roots, rocks and grasses. Already S tran d ’s tech n i­ cal perfectionism and strong aesthetic in­ terests w ere apparent. But equally his obstinate, resolute respect for th e thing-initself was also apparent. And the result is often disconcerting. Some w ould say th a t these photographs fail, for they rem ain d e­ tails o f w hat they have been taken from : they never becom e independent images. N ature, in these photographs, is intrasigent to a rt, and the m achine details m ock the stillness of their perfectly rendered images. From the 1930’s onw ards, the p h o to ­ graphs fall typically in to groups associated w ith journeys th at S trand m ade: to M exico, New England, France, Italy, th e Hebrides, E gypt, G hana, Rum ania. These are the photographs for which S trand becam e wellknow n, and it is on the evidence o f these photographs th a t h e should be considered a great man. I am forced to use th a t som e­ w hat archaic term because in the end it is less confusing than saying artist, p h o to ­ grapher, th in k er, image-maker. What it am ounts to is th a t with these black-andw hite photographs, w ith these records which are distributable anyw here, he offered us the sight of a num ber o f places and people in such a way th a t our view o f th e w orld can be qualitatively extended. On his travels S trand avoided th e pic­ turesque, the panoram ic, and tried to find a city in a street, th e way o f life o f a nation in the corner o f a kitchen. Mostly his approach let him choose ordinary subjects which in their ordinariness are extraordinarily representative. He had an infallible eye fo r the q u in tes­ sential: w hether it is to be found on a M exi­ can doorstep, or in the way th a t an Italian village schoolgirl in a black pinafore holds her straw hat. Such photographs en ter so deeply in to the particular th a t they reveal to us the stream o f a culture or a history which is flowing through th a t p articular subject like blood. The images o f these p h o to ­ graphs, once seen, subsist in our m ind until by JOHN BERGER some actual in cident, which we witness or live, refers to one o f them as though to a m ore solid reality. But it is n o t this which makes S trand as a p h o to g rap h er unique. His m eth o d as a p h o to g rap h er was m ore unusual. One could say th a t it was th e an ­ tithesis to Henri Cartier-Bresson’s. The p h o ­ tographic m om ent for Cartier-Bresson is an instant, a fraction of a second, and he stalks th a t in stan t as though it were a wild animal. The photographic m om ent for S trand was a biographical or historic m om ent, whose d u r­ ation is ideally m easured n o t by seconds b u t by its relation to a lifetim e. S trand did n o t pursue an in stan t, b u t encouraged a m om ent to arise as one might encourage a story to be told. In practical term s this means th a t he de­ cided w hat he w anted before he to o k the pictu re, never playing with the accidental, w orked slowly, hardly ever cropped a pic­ tu re, often used a plate cam era, formally asked people to pose fo r him . His pictures were all rem arkable for their intentionality. His po rtraits were very frontal. The subject is looking at us; we are looking at the sub­ je ct; it has been arranged like th a t. But there is a similar sense o f fro n tality in many o f his o th er pictures o f landscapes or objects or buildings. His cam era was n o t free-roving. He chose where to place it. Where he chose to place it was n o t where som ething was ab o u t to hap p en , b u t w here a num ber o f happenings w ould be related. Thus, w ith o u t any use o f anecdote, he tu rn ­ ed his subjects in to narrators. The river narrates itself. T he field w here the horses are grazing recounts itself. The wife tells the story of her marriage. In each case Strand, the p h o tographer, chose the place to p u t his cam era as listener. The approach: neo-realist. The m ethod: deliberate, frontal, form al, with every sur­ face thoroughly scanned. What is the result? His best photographs are unusually dense — n o t in th e sense o f being over-burdened or obscure, b u t in the sense of being filled w ith an unusual am o u n t o f substance per square inch. And all this substance becom es the stu ff o f the life o f the subject. In the tw o volum es, which include over 200 photographs, there are at least 30 pictures of this kind o f au th o rity and intensity. Their quality depended upon his technical skill, his ability to select, his know ­ ledge of the places he visited, his eye, his sense o f tim ing, his use o f the cam era; b u t he m ight have had all these talents and still n o t have been capable o f producing such pic­ tures. W hat finally determ ined his success in his photographs o f people and in his lan d ­ scapes — w hich are only extensions of people w ho happen to be invisible — was his ability to invite the narrative: to present him self to his subject in such a way th a t the subject is willing to say: I am as yo u see me. It is m ore than a statem ent o f im m ediate fact: it is already an explanation, a ju stifi­ catio n , a dem and — it is already au to b io ­ graphical. S tran d ’s photographs suggest his sitters tru st him to see their life story. And it is for this reason th a t, although the p o r­ traits are form al and posed, there is no need, eith er on the p art of photo g rap h er or p h o to ­ graph, for the disguise o f a borrow ed role (“ smile, please.” ). Photography, because it preserves th e ap ­ pearance of an event or a person, has always been closely associated w ith the idea o f the historical. The ideal of photography, aesthetics ap art, is to seize an “historic” m om ent. But Paul S tran d ’s relation as a p h otographer to th e historic is a unique one: his photographs convey a unique sense of duration. ‘PAUL STRAND - A RETROSPECTIVE MONOGRAPH’ A perture Books, New York and G ordon Fraser, L ondon 1971. (Pub­ lished in tw o volumes) ‘PAUL STRAND - SIXTY YEARS OF PHOTOGRAPHS’ A perture Books, New Yoek and G ordon Fraser, L ondon 1977. This is th e only book of S tra n d ’s w ork still in p rin t; it is beautifully p ro d u ced , b u t at £ 16.00 is hardly good value when com pared to the earlier tw o volum e m onograph of 1971. This issue of CAMERAWORK, A pril, 1977, was produced b y the Publishing Project, Half M oon Photography W orkshop, 27 Alie Street, L ondon, E .I., 01- 4 8 8 — 2595. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and inform ation on p h o to ­ graphy and o th e r form s o f com m unication. By exploring th e application, scope and co n ten t of photography, we intend to dem ystify th e process. We see this as p art of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so con trib u te to th e process by w hich we grow in capacity and pow er to control our ow n lives. Ed Barber, Terry D ennett, Marilyn Dalick-Noad, Mike G oldw ater, Liz H eron, Sue H obbs, Eric M olden, Tom P icton, J o Spence, Paul Trevor. Printed by Expression Printers, 5 Kingsbury R oad, L ondon, N .l. If you have any com m ents to m ake or articles, letters o r prints you w ould like to co n trib u te, we will be glad to hear from y o u . Please m ake sure it reaches us by 1st Ju n e 1977 (ISSN 0308 1676) Factory Fantasies? by NICK HEDGES Judy sits at the assembly line, head sunk in her hands; on the girder next to her hangs a travel poster of a bikini-clad girl laughing at the world. Just down the same assembly line Rose has stuck up some snaps of her children, and a blurred print of herself and her husband. At lunchbreak Vera apes a pin-up posture, and Ron performs his standard practical joke with his false teeth. At the steelworks a row of empty safety helmets welcome you in, and down by the open hearth furnace you are welcomed to Hell. Emil stands by his flower pots, ‘to cheer the cabin up’, - he was Polish, survived the Germans, killed three weeks after the photograph was taken when his fork-lift truck toppled over and crushed him. In Joe’s cabin the pin-ups are stuck with darts. Charlie who is third-hand on the furnace wears his safety clothing like a Samurai. At tea break George challenges Ron to a game of Mastermind. b ased a t W olverham pton P o ly te c h n ic . T he fellow ship is w o rth £ 1 ,8 0 0 p .a ., th e p o ly ­ tech n ic su p p ly m e w ith m aterials w o rth £ 4 0 0 p .a ., an d u n d e rta k e to p ro v id e m e w ith h a lf a d a y ’s teach in g a w eek in th e F acu lty o f A rt a n d D esign. O verall th e fu n d in g is w o rth a b o u t £ 2 ,7 0 0 gross a y e a r. I w o rk a b o u t 55 h o u rs a w eek o n th e p ro je c t. I t ’s m y tim e , I organize it. M ost o f th e p eo p le th a t I ’m p h o to g ra p h in g earn a b o u t th e sam e, o r a little m o re ; th e ir w o rk in g w eek is s h o rte r b u t th e y have n o c o n tro l over th e ir w o rk in g tim e. T he p ro je c t th a t I ’ve u n d e rta k e n is a p h o ­ tographic d o c u m e n ta tio n o f p e o p le a t w o rk , an d th e en v iro n m en t o f w o rk p laces. T h e in ­ te n tio n is to p ublish b o th p h o to g ra p h s an d tra n sc rib e d interview s a t th e e n d o f th e p r o ­ je c t in 1978. M eanw hile I ’m p u ttin g on e x ­ h ib itio n s in each o f th e fa cto ries th a t I ’ve v isited , u sually in th e w orks ca n te e n . My stim ulus has com e fro m th e h id d e n n a tu re o f w o rk p laces (in re c e n t years B ob G o ld en is on e o f th e very few p e o p le to a tte m p t to p o rtra y h o w w e all sp en d on e th ird o f o u r lives, w hilst th ere have b e e n an in fin ite n u m ­ b e r o f d o c u m e n ta tio n s o f leisu re, th e sea­ side, e tc .). In th a t sense it was a conscious decision to sw ing th e b a la n c e , a n d to re c o g ­ nize all th o se w o rk ers w h o p ro d u c e th e m aterial w ealth th a t p ay s fo r o u r w elfare state. T h e facto ries th a t I ’ve v isited so far are: B irchley R olling M ills, N o rto n V illiers, Nick Hedges T hese p h o to g ra p h s a n d te x t are o ne a tte m p t a t try in g to com e to term s w ith w o rk e rs’ re ­ ac tio n s to w o rk . T hese re a ctio n s are e x ­ p ressed in th e visual an d verbal stim u li w hich th e y in je c t in to th e fa c to ry : h u m o u r, fa n ta sy a n d h u m a n n ess. It is also m y ow n re c o g n itio n o f ‘fa n ta s tic ’ elem en ts p re s e n t in w o rk en v iro n m e n ts. I t ’s y o u r b irth d a y — SM ILE. I t ’s th e u n io n c o n fe re n c e — ‘I t ay n o u se ’. I t ’s tim e fo r th e Sun - SEE PA G E T H R E E . People o f W o lv erh am p to n S u p p o rt N o rto n V illiers. W hen I arriv ed a t W o lverham pton to sta rt m y p ro je c t n o o n e in th e P o ly te c h n ic , sta ff o r s tu d e n t, knew w here th e N o rto n facto ry w as. N o o n e th a t is e x c e p t F red B aistow th e c a re ta k e r/d o o rm a n ; h e ’d w o rk ed th e re on ce, to ld m e to ask fo r Iv y , a n d m e n tio n his n am e. T he gap b e tw e e n e d u c atio n al in s titu tio n s an d th e real w o rld depresses m e. E ach tim e I re tu rn fro m a session o f d a rk ro o m w o rk or te a c h in g to th e e n v iro n m en t o f th e w o rk s, I feel b a c k in tu n e . M iddle-class ro m an tic! — “ E xpensive c am e ra, m a te ” , I quickly ra tio n ­ alise, “ T h e y ’re like a d e c e n t set o f to o ls, I earn m y living w ith th e m .” Being a p h o to ­ g ra p h e r is easy , an d living as a p h o to ­ g rap h er allow s y o u th e ch an ce to a tte m p t c o n tin u in g assessm ents o f th e real w o rld . All th e tim e y o u are u n d e rsta n d in g m o re a b o u t in te ra c tio n s in th e h u m a n w orld. I ’m w o rk in g o n a fellow ship fu n d e d by th e W est M idland A rts A sso ciatio n , an d CAMERAWORK 6 Nick Hedges Jo siah Parkes (lock m anufacturers), Unigate Dairies, and th e British Steel C orporation (blast furnace and open hearth steel furnaces). Over the n ex t year I in te n d -to spend the coverage to include a service industry, a w hite collar industry, a group of farm s, a high technology industry and a m edia industry. While I am w orking on the p roject I shall be doing an M. Phil., based on the docum en­ tatio n . Part o f the problem o f docum entary w ork is to decide on how to present the evidence, and fo r the M. Phil., I shall be te st­ ing various m ethods. T here are several schools o f thought on how to com m unicate evidence: 1. T he classic ‘Family o f M an’ style, in which all the photographs are used as m e ta­ phors for generalised statem ents ab o u t the ‘quality o f life’ (sic). This style may succeed in reaffirm ing established views ab o u t life, b u t it has little to do w ith actual truths ab o u t th e subject m atter. It is m ore like a p o litician’s election address than a serious study o f reality. 2. The detailed and massive study o f a p articu lar phenom ena in w hich evidence is collected over a long period o f tim e. A t its best (Vietnam Inc. Philip Jon es G riffiths), this type o f study gives unique insights and understanding o f the subject. au th o r drops the stance o f the hidden observer. Exam ples o f this might be R obert F rank’s Lines o f M y H a n d, Agee and Evans L e t Us N o w Praise Fam ous M en, and to some ex ten t D anny Lyons Conversations w ith the Dead. The dangers o f this latter approach can b e th a t it turns in to a public display an a u th o r’s posturing at the expense of the c o n ten t o f his photographs, w ith the result th a t the w hole w ork moves tow ards th a t perilous arena o f ‘A rt’. The examples I’ve q u o ted manage to avoid this, how ever, and to my m ind are very considerable p h o to ­ graphic works. 5. D ocum entation in w hich the sub­ ject is also th e au th o r. I have in m ind the com m unity based photographic projects like Paul C arter’s in Blackfriars. This concept has n o t really been fully tried o u t; if it has weaknesses it could be in the difficulty in es­ tablishing a single defined aim, and in the structural weakness o f a collective sta te­ m ent; I recognise th a t this weakness is also its strength. This list o f docum entary categories is by no m eans conclusive, and my own tendency is to move som ew here betw een 2 and 4. 3. Conventional new spaper and magazine stories w here the authors are pressured by deadlines into a sketchy o r sensationalised approach, and th e full w eight o f w hat has to be said is lost in a forest o f com peting infor­ m ation. W hat is news is n o t necessarily the tru th ab o u t a situation. 4. A d o cum entation w hich presents in detail a study o f a phenom enon, b u t which also reveals the a u th o r’s own involvem ent. So th a t w hilst being a study o f an aspect of hum an reality, it also opens up th e au th o r to a similar exam ination. In this way the Kids and Photography... A contemporary Candide can spend 13 years in school and seven years in higher education, before spending 40 years on the dole (or receiving Arts Council or other grants) and retiring on the old age pension. Official edu­ cation offers literacy and numeracy while the real teachers are disguised as television and film producers, news­ paper and magazine owners, and advertisers. Photography is now offered as another panacea. O-level pupils study the documents of Matthew B. Brady and the experiments of Angus McBean, and,as an ‘art medium’ it is used to de­ , lay the boredom of the classrooms for a few more years. It is clear that edu­ cational institutes avoid the real and urgent issues. Most teachers and university lecturers remain ignorant of the manipulation that engulfs us. We believe that it is worth telling children about the real uses and misuses of photography. We claim no false neutrality. We think we can begin to control our ow n lives by running w orkshops outside the official system . Education has to com e o u t o f th e academic closet. For this reason the H alf M oon Photography W orkshop has an educational collective th a t runs w eekend and other w orkshops, gives lectures, w rites arti­ cles and sets up short-term projects. T o this end, three one-day integrated w orkshops w ere held in February and March in London on KIDS AND PHOTOGRAPHY. . . . The w orkshops tried to relate p h o to ­ graphy to oth er disciplines; to discuss a variety of approaches to th e subject, going far b ey o n d the teaching o f photography as a curriculum subject; and to reject th e fast developing and highly-lucrative audio/visual aid industry in favour o f hom e-m ade aids, re ­ volving around the direct needs o f children. Previous w orkshops were held in May, 1976. W orkshop 1 dem o n strated th a t there is a consciousness industry o perated by th e mass m edia and schools, and co n cen trated on the w ork of photographers, b o th in the use of pictures and of language. E xtracts were show n from Tham es Television’s program m e VIEW POINT. Made for schools broadcast­ ing, tran sm itted once and then banned by the In dependent Broadcasting A u thority, V iew point explores the concept th a t ‘com ­ m unication is co n tro l’. In the ex tract shown we saw how pictures are taken by p h o to ­ graphers, then ed ited , industrially processed and published by new spapers. E xtracts were also show n from THE HISTORY BOOK, a 16mm Scandinavian colour anim ation film (with English soundtrack) w hich presents w orld history from th e view point of oppressed and exploited people. It is suita­ ble fo r kids from eight onw ards and can be hired from The O ther Cinem a.1 N um erous speakers to o k different aspects o f m edia ranging from the magazines th a t children read, to the ways in which adults themselves m ediate inform ation to children. Much of th e w ork also centred on practical sug­ gestions for co m batting and discussing the sexism, racism and class bias inherent in mass media. Work show n and discussed ranged across personal and social id en tity an d docum en­ tary projects, involving the use o f images from magazines and new spapers, com bined w ith the taking and collection of p h o to ­ graphs and the com pilation o f personal his­ tories. Ideas were opened up for teaching ab o u t local com m unity life and w ork, about living in a multi-racial co m m unity, and to discussing concepts of pow er w ith children. The em phasis was always upon low cost, low technology and group w ork. W orkshop 2 co n cen trated on the bias of mass technology, w ith an illustrated in tro ­ duction to the concept th a t m uch of w hat was discovered in the photographic past has now been dropped or ignored by “ official” histories o f p h otography an d by mass m anu­ facturers. The dangers were also p o in ted o u t o f th e cu rren t policy o f w ithdraw ing p ro d u cts and services, sim ply because they do n o t m ake a certain arbitrarily-fixed am o u n t of p ro fit (cost accountancy), and photographic adverts w ere show n to d em on­ strate the alm ost universal attem p t on the p a rt o f the suppliers to inculcate in us the h ab it o f “consum erism ” (encouraging reliance on expensive and fashionable co m ­ m ercial eq uipm ent rath er than giving us the knowledge and m eans to m ake decisions based on our actual needs). Small w ork­ shops included one on pinhole cameras (m any m ade o f cocoa tins, some w ith rising fro n ts, others w ith stereo or 16 pinholes), and th e use of the cam era obscura. O ther groups in tro d u ced alternative p h o to chem istry and hom e-m ade things, p h o to ­ graphy w ith o u t a cam era, practical p h o to m ontage sessions, cam era handling and d ark­ room w ork. T he audience o f 80 m oved, in small groups, through the w orkshops o f their choice. W orkshop 3 dealt w ith the practical problem s o f introducing p hotography to kids, how to raise m oney, how to plan a darkroom , etc. G roups discussed p h o to ­ graphy in adventure playgrounds, p h o to ­ graphy as a curriculum subject, or as used w ithin language developm ent, image co n ­ stru ctio n , urban studies, social, com m unity an d y o u th w ork. Chairperson for the three W orkshops was Tom Picton, and a b o o k stall was run by Bob White. T he education collective prepared and issued to w orkshop m em bers a com prehen­ sive loose-leaf kit. This co ntained a variety o f articles specially w ritten for th e occasion, plus off-prints o f o th er relevant articles, reading lists, useful addresses, a P h o to Chem ­ ical H andbook, details o f how to m ake hom e-m ade photographic em ulsions. Also by Tom Picton and Jo Spence included was th e excellent ‘L ad y b ird ’ book o f THE CAMERA, a pam phlet by Paul C arter o f Blackfriars Settlem ent on how his p ro ject was set up an d is ru n , and issue 21 of SCREEN EDUCATION2 which contains several useful articles on practical w ork, in ­ cluding one by Terry D ennett and J o Spence “ Photography, Ideology and E d u catio n ” . These jackdaw s can be purchased separately (at cost price) from H.M.P.W. at £ 5 .0 0 in ­ cluding postage and packing, or £ 4 .0 0 if collected — cash w ith order). A nyone interested in w orking w ith the collective should co n tact them at th e Half M oon Photography W orkshop, 27 Alie S treet, L ondon, E .l — tel. 01 488-2595. Most o f the w ork done on these three w o rk ­ shops was voluntary (for w hich m any thanks) and expenses incurred were grantaided by the G reater L ondon Arts Association. 1. The O ther Cinem a, 12/13 L ittle N ew port S treet, L ondon, W .I., tel: 01 734 8508. 2. SCREEN EDUCATION, Society for E du­ cation in Film and Television, 29 Old C om pton S treet, L o ndon, W .l. Costs 70p plus p & p. Final discussion on second day. CAMERAWORK 6 4 student Pinholing: From Here to Infinity cocoa tin pinhole e began making pinhole cameras several years ago, started big, using dust-bins with crude pinholes made in oven foil, and large bromide paper negatives. The obvious links with photography’ history are impor­ s tant. We still use paper negatives al­ most exclusively but have added a whole range o f cameras in many sizes, including wide angles up to 180 degrees, zooms, rising fronts, stereo, colour, and recently a 16-in-one model inspired by the Victorian ‘ carte de visite’ cameras. W The principles o f the pinhole camera has o f course been known for centuries, and any light-proof contain­ er can be made into a practical camera by painting the inside black and mak­ ing a small hole in one side. But few people realise that it can produce images o f very good quality, or that such a wide variety o f special purpose pinhole cameras can be made for little or no cost. with a size 9 needle hole in a 9-inch deep box, the exposure will be about five minutes on a sunny day, using bromide paper. You can do a great deal o f interesting work with­ out even getting into the complications o f exposure calculations. Just stick to working on sunny days and get to know the exposure time for particular cameras by trial and error. The smaller the hole, the longer the exposure; the smaller the box, the shorter the exposure. In theory you can use any light sensitive material in a pinhole camera, though some might be too slow for practical use. Film is very quick to expose and produces good prints, but it is very expensive in the large sizes needed for good pinhole photos. Ordinary photograhic paper has the advan­ tage o f being much cheaper and can be pro­ cessed under a safelight. It will even tolerate a surprising amount o f white light leaking in­ to an improvised darkroom, whereas film will not. You can work with pinhole cameras with a minimum o f photographic knowledge and you can learn most o f the basic principles o f cameras and processing, but it is important to realise that its potential is far greater than simply as an introduction to photography. Pinhole cameras can do many things conven­ tional cameras cannot do. Most o f the dis­ advantages can be turned into advantages and even the limitations can be enjoyed. Seen as a genuine alternative camera rather than a crude photographic toy, the pinhole camera should have a great future. mobile camera obscun^/darkroom Steve Hoare teaches in the Art and Design Department o f Dartington College o f Arts and runs a weekend photography group with children at Dartington Hall School. He gave a recent workshop in the series, ‘ Kids and Photography’run by the Half Moon Photo­ , graphy Workshop Educational Collective, on pinholes. The Art and Design Department at Dart­ ington at present runs a course for those in­ tending to teach in schools, with the empha­ sis on the middle age range o f 9 — 13. A new Diploma o f Higher Education, “ and Art Design in Social Contexts” the first o f its , kind, starts in September. These courses have led towards an increasing com m it­ ment to the use o f low technologies where possible. Steve Hoare Most books or courses on photography either ignore or dismiss the pinhole camera as a crude device which produces a blurred image. Invariably they point only to the dis­ advantages, blurred images (not true), long exposures (what’ the hurry?). The long ex­ s posure is o f course a disadvantage in many situations but can be an advantage in others. A good lens can produce a sharper image than a pinhole, but if you use a large nega­ tive in a pinhole camera you can get a re­ markably sharp photo. Unlike the lens, the pinhole has an infinite depth o f focus. This is a great advantage to the amateur camera maker as it entirely eliminates the problem o f focussing and makes it possible to con ­ struct a remarkable variety o f cameras that would be impossible or extremely difficult when using a lens. For example, the back o f the camera can be curved into a semi-circle to produce a 180 degree (almost) wide angle camera which produces much less distortion than a fisheye lens costing hundreds o f pounds. My 180 degree camera cost about 5 pence. The infinite depth o f focus makes a ‘ zoom camera’ with variable angle o f view a simple matter. You can use a movable film or paper holder inside the box. A converted folding Kodak makes a zoom pinhole camera with eight shots on 120 roll film. Pinholes are ideal for architecural ph oto­ graphy. The wide angle often required pre­ sents no problems and a rising front is easily incorporated. Just make a vertical line o f pinholes. Other camera movements such as a ‘ horizontal shift’ are also easy — just add more pinholes; cover them all with black tape ‘ shutters’and remove the appropriate one to make the exposure. I have a stereo camera made from a Carousel lens box which exactly matches the size o f a junk shop viewer. Other cameras are purpose-built o f plywood, such as the colour model, four exposures onto one sheet o f 10 inch x 8 inch paper, and the 16 inch x 20 inch ‘ carte de visite’ but most can be , made from ready-made containers. For work with children ready-mades are best, but avoid the flimsy cardboard box which is difficult to make really light-proof, gets blown away by the wind or collapses under the weight o f a steadying brick. Try to find containers which can be made light­ proof with a minimum o f modification. Small cans have the double advantage o f being quicker to expose and are cheaper on materials. Cylindrical cans produce strange­ ly distorted pictures, square ones produce ‘ normal’ pictures. For really large format work a black polythene dustbin is fine. We have also used a VW van with the windows blacked out. This was both camera and darkroom. There are two important factors in pro­ ducing really good quality pinhole photos. The pinhole must be a very small hole in a very thin material, such as 0.002 inch brass shim, and the negative must be large. Pin­ hole negatives will not stand up to a high degree o f enlargement as will a negative pro­ duced by a good lens. You must make large negatives and contact print them. Photographic paper works fine for negatives and contact prints well too. T o make the pinhole use a needle, mounting it in the end o f a piece o f dowel. ‘ Drill’ the point into the brass shim placed on a piece o f card. Turn the brass over and remove the burr with the finest carborundum paper you can get — at least ‘ 400’ grade. Push the needle carefully back through the other way and re­ move the burr. Repeat until you have a per­ fectly round hole which is just the diameter o f the needle. I check my pinholes against the light with a xl5 magnifying glass. The smallest needle comm only available is a size 9, but I have bought numbers 10,11 and 12 from the manufacturers. The holes may be made smaller than size 9 by using the point only, but the advantage o f making the hole the full width o f the needle is that you can standardise hole sizes on different cameras or for stereo etc., and you can actually work out the f number and make proper exposure calculations. The exposures required with pinhole cameras can be very long. For example, wide angle pinhole by STEVE HOARE CAMERAWORK 6 a by TOM PICTON nnie Spike slum ps in the arm chair. shoem aker. He edited the transcribed tex t Her eyes are closed, h er head is bent w hich was published as Years o f Change. forw ard, resting on her knuckles. Her elbow Working Lives One. The Publishing Pro­ is on the arm of th e chair. H er o th e r hand je ct decided to produce a series o f books holds a p acket o f cigarettes and a lighter. ab o u t w ork. ‘We did n o t w ant to get Her fingernails appear short and w orn with trapped in to always looking b ack ,’ Neil w ork. The heel of one fo o t rests on the toe M artinson said. ‘People m ake history every o f the other. The chair fits w ith th e G-plan day.’ Most o f the people they talked to m odernism o f the other furniture. There is a were already know n to the group. ‘We’re heavy glass ash tray on one sideboard, and very unscientific. D on’t go to the Census,’ an em pty vase on th e other. The w indow is Neil adds. A dem olition w orker w hose life covered w ith a lace cu rtain , the w ooden is in th e b o o k was already a m em ber o f the floor is bare. Annie Spike is exhausted, n o t evening class. A n o th er w orking life was Neil even able to take a cigarette o u t o f the M artinson’s fath er w ho is a cabinet m aker. p acket. The photograph o f Annie Spike, for that Since then C entreprise has becom e a is w hat is described, will appear in Working w ord factory. So far, 1,800,000 have been Lives Tw o, the latest venture o f Centreprise collected. T he People’s A utobiography Publishing Project o f H ackney in East group listen to the tapes and decide which to London. transcribe. This is shown to the person in ­ This photograph can be read in many terview ed, w ho edits it before it is published. ways. It can sym bolise exploitation. It can Ken W orpole is certain o f th e p ro jec t’s be considered to show an obsolete division value. ‘A t present m ost p eo p le’s lives go u n ­ o f labour th a t ceased to w ork w ith the in­ recorded, as if they possessed no inner life vention of agriculture and certainly becam e w orth know ing,’ he has w ritten . ‘The oppressive with the death of th e extended struggle for self expression is often thw arted fam ily, if n o t long before. I t can be seen in schools, totally denied a t w ork, and merely as a photograph of a tired w om en. ignored by th e com m unications in d u stry .’ Its m any meanings justify its use in Working Working Lives Two will be published in Lives. A photograph tells you things you August. Interviews will be accom panied by w ould miss by only reading Annie S pike’s photographs by Sally G reenhill, Barry Lewis, w ords. A photograph is terse and direct. It Neil M artinson, Michael A nn Mullen and J o can open a p erso n ’s life as efficiently and Spence. Each pho to g rap h er read the in ter­ brutally as a tin opener. As Roland Barthes view before taking th e pictures. All the p h o ­ w rites in M ythologies: “ Pictures, to be sure, tographers th en looked at each o th e r’s prints are m ore im perative than w riting, they im ­ and in m any cases w ent back to take m ore pose m eaning at one stroke, w ith o u t analys­ photographs. Each interview will have six to ing o r diluting it.” ten pictures. Annie Spike does n o t talk ab o u t her ex­ The b o o k will have 14 interview s, ten o f haustion. (Most ‘w orking m others’, as she them w ith pictures show ing the people at is called, are perm anently tired. T he term s ‘m o th e r’ and ‘housew ife’ im ply only th a t the “A w orking w om an’s jo b is a nerve racking w om an is n o t paid for her labour. ) She thing. A husband gets up in the m orning, does n o t talk ab o u t collapsing in to the arm ­ gets dressed, has a cup o f tea and a slice of chair at the end o f the day. bread and b u tte r, kisses the kids “ T a-ta” and C entreprise is m any other things besides tells th e wife h e ’ll see h er at six. T he wife the publisher o f W orking Lives. These has to get up m aybe half an h o u r before the include: ■ a green double sh opfront in Kingsland High S treet, H ackney, East L ondon. ■ The only bookshop in a borough of 220,000 people. A t present it is selling about 60,000 books a year w orth £35 ,0 0 0 . ■ A nursery, coffee bar, advice centre, m eeting place. ■ The publisher, so far, o f 25 other books. As Neil M artinson, one o f the m em bers o f the Publishing Project says: “It does seem a logical step, if y o u ’ve got a bookshop, to get people to w rite.” C entreprise’s first b o o k was brought to them by tw o teachers from Hackney Downs Com prehensive School. They were poem s w ritten by a 12 year-old boy b o m in Jam aica, Vivian U sherw ood. Vivian was a t­ tending remedial classes at school w hich re ­ garded him as illiterate. In another class he was w riting am azing poem s. Centreprise p rin te d 500 copies for £20. The inside pages were typed on pap er plates and p rin te d on an offset duplicator in a local Shopping (above) college. A local p rin ter p roduced th e covers Cleaning (below) for £ 1 0 . This first edition sold o u t in eight weeks. Since then, 5,000 copies in five editions have been printed — w hich is a large circulation for a b o o k o f poem s. A year later, in 1973, the Project got its first full-time w orker. It now has tw o, Ken W orpole and Neil M artinson, w ho also w ork in th e coffee bar and bookshop like other m em bers o f Centreprise. W orking Lives began as a jo in t evening class w ith the local W orkers’ Educational Association to sta rt a People’s A utobio­ graphy o f H ackney. Both groups felt that the history of com m on people is neglected. Its first book was When I Was a Child by Dot S tam . For tw o years the Central WEA re­ fused to recognise th e group. They said the tu to r did n o t have the correct qualifications and th ey did n o t consider it was a history course. The first tu to r was Ken Worpole w ho had taught English at Hackney Downs before joining Centreprise. Fifteen m em bers o f the group used cassette tape recorders to in ter­ view local people. They also advertised in local papers for elderly people to talk to. At th eir meetings they listened to the tapes. In 1974 they spoke to A rthur N ew ton, a A “ Since com ing back after the war, I ’ve seen m any changes here, b o th in the neighbour­ by Lou Lessen (barber) w ork. The others will have p o rtraits because the people have retired or le ft th a t jo b . They include a teacher, housewife and nightcleaner, p o stm an , barber, hairdresser, school leaver, bu ild er’s m erchant, taxi driver, health visitor, fish fryer, vicar, m achinist and m ortuary technician. Centreprise did n o t have photographs in the early books. Working Lives One te n ta ­ tively used snapshots, and a few pictures specially taken fo r the b ook. W orking Lives Two will use m ore than sixty photographs com m issioned for the b o o k . The p h o to ­ graphers got paid £ 1 0 a day w ith expenses. C entreprise has also published tw o books of historic photographs o f H ackney. C entreprise lose m oney on the first editions o f m ost o f their books b u t m ake a small p ro fit on later editions. So far, they have m anaged to keep th e cost o f thenbooks below £ 1 , an d several have been specially p ro d u ced fo r ad u lt literacy classes. Finally Ken W orpole: “ I t’s im p o rtan t to p ro m o te discussion an d reassert the value o f ‘ordinary life’. We hope th e books will m ake a dent in our general political culture w hich has y et to recognise the significance o f the m ajority of the p o p u la tio n .” T he only reason for looking at o th er lives is to understand our own. Considering the value o r futility o f y o u r own w ork is a first step on th e long road to freedom . husband to m ake the breakfast, get the chil­ dren ready for school and perhaps a daughter ready for the office — and she may have to be o u t by half-past seven to get in to the factory at eight. She’s trying to organ­ ise, tidy up and m ake sure th e house is secure as well before she goes o u t. Then she’s thinking: “ In my dinner h o u r I ’ve got to go o u t and do the shopping” — after w ork ing fo r five hours in the factory in the m o rn ­ ing. On the way to w ork she’s nearly getting killed crossing busy roads. On the way hom e she can see her m achine in her eyes; she ca n ’t get w ork o ut o f her head, and she has to worry ab o u t getting the dinner on. Perhaps h er children finish school at 4 and she doesn’t finish till 5; so she worries ab o u t w hether they com e hom e safe from school as well. On top o f all this, there are some husbands w ho th in k th a t ju st because th ey ’ve given a w eek’s wages, their washing should be do n e, their hom e cleaned and their children well-dressed. A nd if the wife ca n ’t afford to buy herself clothes, she starts to go down an d begins to look like an old h o b o because she can ’t afford a nice dress to go o u t in. T hen th e husband do esn ’t b o th er ab o u t her, so he goes o u t drinking w ith his mates. “Women in factories are sw eating their guts o u t for their children. A lthough they say they got rid o f the whip years ago, they still have the whip behind us really. T h ey ’re still w hipping us, in an o th er w ay. For ex­ am ple, a friend o f m ine w orks in a clothing factory. I t ’s a basem ent and there are no w indows at all. In sum m er the tem perature reaches 120 degrees and the governor sends o ut for iced drinks. T h ere’s no union. T h ey ’re still getting away with i t.” Annie Spike (Housewife & Working Mother) Michael Ann Mullen Life at Work hood and in hairstyles. I t used to be ju st a m atter of short back and sides, w ith the o c­ casional Boston. A ‘B oston’ m eans tire hair is cu t at the back in a line, instead of gradually tapered out. A lo t o f shops now adays have p h o to ­ graphs o f styles, b u t I have never gone in for th at. I believe in cu ttin g each p erso n ’s hair in his own individual style. There are very few really short back and sides; even the shorter style is longer than it was previously, and people are m ore hair-conscious now than ever before; and 1 think there is n o thing nicer than seeing a well-groomed m an, with neat, clean, tidy hair . . . There is a relationship betw een my type o f barber an d his regular custom ers, th a t al­ m ost borders on friendship. This is evident w hen these custom ers com e in for atten tio n ; the m utual greetings are m ore like those b e­ tw een friends than betw een a barber and his custom er. The highest pinnacles for me, are w hen regular clients move o u t o f the district or have to change th eir local jobs, b u t still m ake the effo rt and co n tin u e to patronise my sh o p .” At the end of a day CAMERAWORK 6 From “ FAMILY SELF PORTRAIT” by Richard Greenhill — a Half Moon Photography Workshop Touring Show Nell, ten minutes ifter she was born. Richard Greenhill CAMERAWORK 6 8 The World of Photography or he Photography Yearbook continues to be like all the magazines you ever found in dentists’ waiting rooms. Turning its pages is like flicking through a colour supplement denuded of text: advertisement merges with feature photo, documentary image with fashion pic. The captions at the back of the book read like the hackwork of the ill-named popular press: ‘Excuse me, this is where I get o ff, as a cyclist falls headlong into a river; ‘It’s not all make-believe in Holly­ wood’, as two Los Angeles policemen from the Special Weapons and Tactics Section charge from a doorway, in battledress, wearing gas masks and clenching automatic weapons. J Image follows image so th a t their individ­ ual sense is lost. W hat you see is a m edley: the w hole book in a cinem atic m ontage. A p ro testo r on a National A bortion Campaign rally follows a nude captioned ‘Love’ from an ‘Essay on W om en’. A blown-up Saracen in an Irish country lane, lying on its side like a dead beast, fades into a grainy, mood-filled vision o f the ‘tim eless’ Spanish landscape. German Chancellor Schm idt faces a Maka Indian from Paraguay. Prince Phillip finds it thirsty w ork at the National Carriage Driving Cham pionships and Cuban w orkers sweat in the fields o f a sugar-cane p lantation. The fam ous rub shoulders w ith the unknow n in the dem ocracy o f the page. Each plate has equal standing. Meaning cancels out meaning. Y et, as p art o f the very same process, a fu rth er m eaning arises which em braces all the images. It is the e d ito r’s belief th a t, merely by avoiding the pairing o f images by different photographers, one can escape the suggestion o f meanings different from or ad­ ditional to those intended by the individual photographers concerned. Such a view, however, is n o t just naive. It conceals the fact that w hat happens to the images is more significant than their individual distortion. The equal weighting given to them , despite great differences in subject m a tte r, purpose and m eth o d , suggests th a t while, on the one hand, each image possesses a singular value w hich cannot be com pared, on the other hand, taken together, the images are in some way equivalent. T he exact nature o f this equivalence is im portant to specify for it is through it that the individual photographs becom e vehicles for m ore general and ex ten ­ sive them es. It is the concealed ability to m ake the particular stand for the general which gives photography its special ideological pow er. Such pow er is exercised as well in single images as in com binations of them — though here we are dealing mainly w ith the la tte r — and it trades on p h o to g rap h y ’s widely accepted authority as a recorder of the co n ­ crete and th e real. T hrough it a dialectical process w hich binds a class and its m em bers is usurped by an unm ediated conjunction of individual and universal. In the representa­ tion of people, for exam ple, photography has the p o tential to picture specific individu­ als, in all their p articularity, as both com pos­ ing and representing the social class or classes w ithin w hich their individuality is realized. Y et, p o rtra it photography has al­ m ost invariably given us unique, even if anonym ous, individuals who by intention or by the unprom pted effect of image on image, com e to stand for universal categor­ ies: the thinker, the toiler, the m other, the lover, the m ourner, the clow n, the sufferer. The cam era lens has given us G o d ’s eye-view o f the hum an conditon. Woman is w om an eternal. Man is born, learns, w orks, plays, laughs and cries, and dies. Everywhere the sam e; all over the world. ‘The toil o f life from y outh w ith its eager­ ness to the tranquility o f old age never ceases to intrigue,’ w rites Eric Cookson, a m agistrate, p roperty developer and Lloyds underw riter, who has included photographs of a shepherd boy in Egypt and a young scholar from the independent school Eric owns in England. The processes o f life — m ost rem arkably those o f labour — are thus bereaved o f their reality, divorced from the conditions in which they occur, and ab­ stracted to the p o in t where they hardly re ­ tain any m eaning. Even a portfolio o f p h o ­ tographs from T urkey, which are an in­ tense and unsentim entalised image o f ritual circum cision ‘at an age w hen the boy will never forget it’, com es to seem no m ore than a rendering o f the ancient m yth o f the ‘Seven Ages o f M an’. Woman does n o t seem to undergo this evolution. She inhabits a pre-cultural plane. Pictured w ith a rose, a leafing tree, a CAMERAWORK 6 ploughed field, or even the man-m ade props o f m odem life, she offers her nakedness as evidence o f an unaffected, unchanging nature. How soon in the history o f p h o to ­ graphy w om en are placed in this passive and subservient relation to the camera. Men may em ploy the full rhetoric of costum e, dressing up for the cam era in a celebration o f their differences. Women at least, until the age w hen they can be p ictu red w ith babies — are stripped and becom e all the same. The thin veils o f artifice and so-called creative cam era­ w ork hide nothing. This Yearbook contains the usual q u o ta o f sexist images, in inverse p ro p o rtio n to the qu o ta o f w om en photographers. Towards the end o f the book is a single photograph which pictures this very relation o f w om en to the cam era w ith p ath etic, unconscious clarity. It is depressing to n o te th at it comes from Poland. A naked w om an crouches on the ground — o u t in the co u n try , somewhere on the edge of a forest. We see her from b e­ hind as she goes on all fours; beyond her butto ck s and upraised head, ano th er five male photographers are eagerly taking her. She is submissive and vulnerable; enticing and seemingly willing; animal-like, one might say, if the copulating giant tortoises in the photograph by H eather Angel did n o t show so m uch m ore dignity in th eir sexual fulfil­ m en t than these protagonists. She falls b e­ fore the cam era b u t n o thing passes betw een them . T he exposure is filled w ith the em pti­ ness o f a faked climax. H ere, a translation o f the concrete into the universal is n o t achieved: the situation reveals too much o f the m om ent to take on the appearance o f a timeless co n fro n tatio n . T hat such a translation be accom plished is, how ever, essential to the success o f a p h o to ­ graph in realizing its ideological purpose. I shall retu rn to this p o in t b u t let us, for the m om ent, pursue the them e in to a com ple­ m entary area: the way the Photography Yearbook presents the contributing p h o to ­ graphers themselves. The main section o f the Photography Yearbook is called ‘International P h o to ­ graphy’. Here, the w orks of photographers from twenty-six nations appear entirely interm ixed, w ith only the nam es to identify them . The general m eth o d o f presentation is familiar from the earliest editions o f the Yearbook and the specific form at has re ­ m ained unchanged for nine years. Details o f nationalities, subjects and the very d if­ ferent purposes for w hich th e photographs were produced — advertising, newspapers, com petitions, freelance com m issions, indus­ trial uses, private or sponsored research, leisure — appear separately, in small p rin t at the back of the book. The categories of photographic p ro d u c­ tion endorsed by the Photography Yearbook also rem ain fairly con stan t from year to year: sports photography, natural history photography, p o rtraits, ethnography, exotica, erotica, landscape, fashion, p h o to ­ journalism and the various m odes o f “art p h oto g rap h y ” , especially Surrealism. They take on the appearance o f given categories through w hich the photographer, of w hat­ ever n ation, class or creed, m ust seek expres­ sion. There is only one transcendent criter­ ion and th at is technique, which is raised by the Yearbook to th e level o f a fetish. The im plications o f this way of present­ ing the work are th at the problem s co n fro n t­ ing photographers are the same the world over b u t achieve their solution in the individ­ ual p h o to g rap h er’s personality. J u s t as the subject appears to take on a significance th at is, at once, universal and particular —just as the sitter can present, at one and the same tim e, the face of hum anity and the face o f a unique individual — so the great family of in ­ ternational photographers, whose kinship is based on expertise, is m ade up o f unique individuals. A ttem pts by com m unity photographers to w rest th e cam era from these experts and n o t only p u t it at the service o f ordinary people, b u t actually place it in their hands, are misconceived, editor J o h n Sanders w rites. ‘There is an aphorism th a t w hen every­ body is som ebody, nobody is anybody, and this may be the fatal flaw in a p h il­ osophy th a t places such em phasis on the prom otion of egalitarianism th at it fo r­ gets the uniqueness o f individuals . . . Memorable photographs by talented photographers usually happen because the person w ho m ade them is fully aware of his or her own individuality. . .’ As we observed earlier in relation to subject-m atter, anything intervening betw een the unique and the universal is ex ­ cluded. Class, n atio n ality , tradition do n ot m atter. And now , th e k n o tted cords of ideology are given one m ore tw ist. The ed ito r continues: ‘T he fact th at such photographs are still being taken in parts o f th e w orld where individuality is n o t exactly encouraged, is a heartening rem inder th a t artists usu­ ally manage to have the last laugh over their p atrons, if n o t always in th eir own lifetim es.’ People are people, the world over. P h o to ­ graphers are photographers, the w orld over. It m ay n o t be given to anyone to take a good photograph: to do so requires talent. But talent is talen t, across the w orld. It is no accident th at these are familiar claims. It is absolutely necessary for b o u r­ geois dem ocracy to seek to establish them as indelible tru th s. On the one side, we are all unique personalities. O ur consciousness is o u r own — the p ro d u ct o f our personality. We are free and equal as individuals. On the other side, we are in some deep way all the same: equal and u n ited in our submission to certain universal tru th s. Though it m ay never be able to achieve a synthesis o f these two strands o f argum ent, bourgeois ideology m ust, if it is to be succes­ sful, contain them and hold them together. picture 214 ERWIN KNEIDINGER (Austria) This is im perative if the illusion o f personal freedom w ithin com m on purpose is to be achieved; if the existence o f rifts, radical in ­ equalities and conflicts w ithin society is to be denied; if, in short, the bourgeois social order is to defend itself against the conse­ quences o f deepening class consciousness and class struggle. The category w hich, above all others, m ust be denied is th a t of class. We have seen how this central co n trad ic­ tion which aries from the attem p t to contain the unique and the universal inform s two areas — the picturing o f people and the image of photographers. It is also at w ork in a fu rth er feature o f the Photography Year­ book : in the conflicting dem ands o f p h o to ­ graphy as a form o f hum an com m unication w hich needs no translators, since the p ic­ tures speak fo r themselves, regardless o f w ho to o k them or w hence they cam e, and p h o to ­ graphy as personal expression; in the duality of th e com m ercial exploitation o f p h o to g ra­ phy as a means o f mechanically reproducing imagery and o f photo g rap h y as the p ro d u c­ tion o f lim ited editions of original prints; in the co ntradictory b u t coexisting identifica­ tions of photography as a tru th fu l, natural, evident and im partial record and o f p h o to ­ graphy as art. It is where it has been able to contain these co ntradictory tendencies th a t p h o to ­ graphy has been m ost effective as an in stru ­ m en t of ideology. The p hotograph has ap ­ pro p riated certain elem ents o f the ideology o f art, while preserving certain advantages n o t given to the processes o f Fine A rt. If this appropriation goes too far, however — as it does in all the featured contributions from the Royal College o f A rt, w ith the exception o f the photographs o f the paraplegic Olympics — then these advantages will be lost and the p h o to g rap h ’s special ideological effectiveness will be threatened. T he m ost explicitly ‘artistic’ photographers may re­ ceive critical acclaim , exhibitions and govern­ m ent grants, b u t they do so at the price of quitting the m ainland of ideological p ro ­ picture 215 GERHARD LUDWIG (Germany) 1*?« IRKA i picture 19 ERIKA SULZER-KLEINEMEIER (Germany) picture 105 BOB CARLOS-CLARKE (G.B.) 9 Photography of the World ? pictures 86/87 ANWAR HOSAIN (Bangladesh) pictures picture 135 to 74 137 STRUAN ROBERTSON HENRY ANGELO-CASTRILLON (Istanbul based) duction. They join that crew o f ‘ Fine Artists’ whom capitalist economies have been prepared to support only to a limited and temporary extent. They are, as they have recently been described: ‘ people rowing out to join a sinking ship.’ What we see here is a process which has been characteristic o f photography through­ out its history. From its beginnings in the eccentric experiments o f isolated inventorscientists in the early decades o f the nine­ teenth century, photography underwent an extremely rapid development. In this, it followed the pattern o f many other scienti­ fic and technological differences — in the fields o f printing, transport, engineering and chemistry, for example — which provided the impetus for, and received their unbridled exploitation in, the hectic growth o f early capitalism. The market both for photographs and for photographic equipment did not cease to ex­ pand in the nineteenth century, encompas­ sing, by stages, more and more sectors of society. However, this expansion brought photography into direct competition with existing means o f manufacturing images. In particular, it engendered early conflict with the great numbers o f portrait painters and miniaturists, o f all kinds and levels, who tried, in vain, to protect their trade from the advances o f the photographic salons. It is in the context o f this econom ic struggle within early capitalism that the idea o f spirit and soul in art first emerges. The very econom ic processes which, particularly after the inven­ tion o f glass negatives enabling multiple re­ production, led to the ever-accelerating de­ velopment and exploitation o f photography, also produced and sustained an ideological recoil which seemed to contradict the work­ ings o f the econom ic laws yet which, here as elsewhere, served to limit control o f the means o f production. Photographic technology did not stand still and soon the same contradiction was gen­ erated within the new medium itself. The first claims to artistic quality in photography come at a time when the first photographers, who concentrated on the production o f limited numbers o f large-scale, high quality prints, were themselves threatened by the commercial operators, led in France by Disderi, who industrialised the process, in­ creasing their production and making their products available to a wider and wider clientelle. For their part, the mass producers of ‘ visiting card’portraits endeavoured to make their mechanical output acceptable to the taste, as well as to the pocket, o f the bourgeoisie. Whilst for theirs, the art ph oto­ graphers sought to consolidate their superior rank by disdainfully rejecting commercial necessity and by exploring, as in the fashion­ able photography o f today, every technical device such as blurring, tinting or gum print­ ing, and every form o f manipulation o f the subject which might recapture that very ‘ aura’ f art which the invention o f ph oto­ o graphy had so emphatically abolished. What united both categories o f ph oto­ grapher was that they operated in the capi­ talist art market, either by selling their wares and services on the high street, or by pre­ ferring their independent products in the vast and prestigious Salons o f art. The latter were as much a consequence o f the develop­ ment o f photography under capitalism as the former. It is only with the predominance o f the free market and the consequent wither­ ing away o f the old patron-artist relations that the idea o f the free artist emerges. These are the conflicts which make up the history o f photography. On one side, the manufacturers o f photographic equip­ ment and materials have argued, since the marketing o f the first Kodak camera in 1888, that anyone can take a photograph: you just point the camera and press the button; they do the rest. On the other, mass participation and the collective recording of the world, have been denigrated in favour o f the individual artist-photographer’ sub­ s jective interpretation o f what he sees. Be­ tween the two — feeding on the conventions o f the one and transmitting them to the other — are the ranks o f the mostly anony­ mous producers o f photographic images for mass consumption: the *power workers o f bourgeois ideology’ the photojoumalists, — feature photographers, advertising image makers, illustrators and shop photographers. There is a certain degree of mobility in these classes: a small minority o f commer­ cial photographers do emerge as “ personal­ ities” in their own right and thereby win title to greater artistic “ freedom ” in their work; certain amateurs, not always o f private means, do win photographic com ­ petitions or have photographs published in yearbooks such as this. Such social mobility is no greater here, however, than it is in society at large, though the institutional and ideological channels which reproduce the hierarchical order, procuring both domin­ ance and consent, do not operate in a crude and exposed way. One such channel is The Photography Yearbook. It may repay further analysis. by JOHN TAGG Photography Year Book 1977 Published by: Fountain Press Price: £7.50 Edited by: John Sanders CAMERAWORK 6 10 Letters Big and Little Art Dear Camerawork, We were interested to read your articles on the Arts Council and the problems o f funding, and on community art. Whilst we cannot comment particularly on the situation in photography, we can as­ sure you that the state o f affairs in painting and graphic arts (in which the majority o f our members are active) presents a sorry tale o f the exclusion from aid o f any artists who produce any kind o f inspiring or truthful work. Artists whose end product can serve only to mislead, to deceive or corrupt, receive generous funds. We have uppermost in our minds performance artists and com ­ munity bandwagon-jumpers, who attempt to ‘ entertain’working people (often living in areas which have been systematically run down because o f the econom ic policies o f central and local government). Such ‘ is art’ funded by government grants at the same time as this systematic running down is tak­ ing place. This state o f affairs impelled us to set down our views in the pamphlet, Class War in the Arts, which your readers might find o f some interest. T o turn to the thorny question o f Tower Hamlets Art Project, we can do no more than agree with your contributor when he states that the state-sponsored arts move­ ment is in a muddle. Where we would pos­ sibly take issue with him is in his naive view that this is merely accidental. A state appar­ atus exists which is large enough, powerful enough and sufficiently tactically diversi­ fied as to be able to penetrate into every cor­ ner o f society, into every nook and cranny where social protest might threaten the real interests o f those who really hold power. Even in the last analysis into the minds o f individuals who — like your contributor — have been conditioned into acceptance of an idealised view o f the harsh realities o f class and class struggle today. He is in fact active­ ly assisting in the deception and the political manipulation o f masses o f people, large or small. More specifically on the role o f art and culture, our experiences have shown us that only an art capable o f expressing in all its richness and variety the real life experiences and struggles o f the masses o f working people can fulfill a positive role in society today. If it is the desire and intention o f your contributor to really hit reaction and privil­ ege where it hurts — or ‘ reject authority to . . . or any structure’he could do no better , than to join in the development o f a progres­ sive realist art and culture. League o f Socialist Artists 18 Camberwell Church Street London, S.E.5 tel. 703 0561 Dear Camerawork, I am putting together a book o f ph oto­ graphs o f the E.I area o f London. I am looking for pictures taken since 1970, by photographers who were living in the area when they took their pictures. Any photographers interested in contri­ buting to this book are invited to send proofs or contacts to the following address. David Hoffman 144 Field Gate Mansions Rom ford St., E.I tel. 247 2518 Dear Camerawork, I was particularly interested in Terry Dennett’ article on s special printing techniques. If Terry is to be a regular contributor (as he appears to be) I feel that it would be better if he were to cover less ground with more detail in future. To really talk about flashing as a means o f contrast control, or to discuss unsharp masking in the depth needed to enable som e­ one who had not ever tried it to begin to use it as a practical method, really requires more space than they were given in CAMERA­ WORK 5. Had the double page spread been devoted CAMERAWORK 6 to just one o f the several topics, it could have been covered in detail and over the months could build up into a really useful reference work. As it was, however, the ar­ ticle contained enough information to whet the appetite but not enough to stand up on its own. Clark Kent ‘ Flasher’ Dennett writes: You can ’ win 'em all! Some said ‘ t Give us m ore.’others, like reader Kent, wanted less. ; The whole idea o
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEdward Barber, Terry Dennett, Marilyn Dalick-Noad, Mike Goldwater, Liz Heron, Sue Hobbs, Eric Molden, Tom Picton, Jo Spence, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerTerry Dennett, Mike Goldwater, Tom Picton, Liz Heron, Jo Spence, Robert Golden, Stephen Dorley-Brown, Ed Barber
      • author_photographerIrene Barki, Brassai (also known as Gyula Halász), Robert Capa, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Brian Coe, William Eggleston, Martine Franck, Herve Gloaguen, Francois Hers, Peter Hujar, Philip Jones Griffiths, Andre Kertesz, Laurie Lewis, Jean Mohr, C Raimond-Dityvon, David Seymore, Thorp, Philip Wolmuth, Phil McCowen, Edward Barber, Richard Greenhill, Janine Wiedel, Don McCullin
      • author_designerFranklin
      • author_intervieweeHerve Gloaguen, Yves Jeanmougin, Alain Garnier, Cornell Capa, Don McCullin, Martine Franck, Philip Jones Griffiths
      • author_organisationMINDA, Magnum, Half Moon Gallery, Viva, Workers Action, Revolutionary Socialist Weekly, Hackney Flashers Collective, The Sunday Times, The Sun, Woman's Realm Magazine, Westminster Empty Property Action Campaign, Penguin, Popular Photography, Time Life, Punch, Camera Press
      • tagsviva,photojournalism,herve gloaguen,yves joanmougin,martine franck,alain garnier,side gallery,vietnam war,1930s,brassai,'paris de nuit',prostitution,prostitutes,crime,criminal underworld,robert capa,david seymour,economic depression,fascism,general strike,magnum,roger mayne,capitalism,publishers,audience,marxism,mass media,advertising,robert golden,hardy,bill brandt,self-publishing,photography book,war photography,philip jones griffiths,don mccullin,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 07
      • subtitleIssue 7: Viva, Don McCullin and Philip Jones Griffiths, The Unpolitical Photograph?, Paris in the Thirties
      • dimension13 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Terry Dennett, Mike Goldwater, Tom Picton, Liz Heron, Jo Spence, Robert Golden, Stephen Dorley-Brown, Ed Barber © Edward Barber Estate, Irene Barki, Brassai (also known as Gyula Halász), Robert Capa © Robert Capa/Magnum Photos, Henri Cartier-Bresson © Henri Cartier-Bresson/Magnum Photos, Brian Coe, William Eggleston, Martine Franck © Martine Franck/Magnum Photos, Herve Gloaguen, Francois Hers, Peter Hujar, Philip Jones Griffiths, Andre Kertesz © 2018 Estate of André Kertész/Higher Pictures, Laurie Lewis, Jean Mohr, C Raimond-Dityvon, David Seymore © David Seymore/Magnum Photos, Thorp, Philip Wolmuth, Phil McCowen, Richard Greenhill, Janine Wiedel, Don McCullin, Franklin, Yves Jeanmougin, Alain Garnier, Cornell Capa, MINDA, Magnum, Half Moon Gallery, Viva, Workers Action, Revolutionary Socialist Weekly, Hackney Flashers Collective, The Sunday Times, The Sun, Woman's Realm Magazine, Westminster Empty Property Action Campaign, Penguin, Popular Photography, Time Life, Punch, Camera Press
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1, 2, 3) France. Tyneside, UK. USA. Portugal. Spain. Vietnam (pg 4,5) Paris, France. Germany. Italy. (pg 10) USA. Vietnam. War & Conflict, UK. Beirut, Lebanon.
      • copyright_obtained0
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      • uploaded1
      • origination_date1977
      • origination_year1977
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:57:43
      • created_by(null)
      • modified2025-09-17 20:40:23
      • modified_by(null)
      • status1
      • featured0
      • pdf_textCAM ERAW ORK “ One tap and one toilet per block." From ‘ THIRTIES AND TODAY', Half Moon Touring Exhibition Viva Don McCullin and Philip J o n e s Griffiths The Unpolitical Photograph ? Paris in the Thirties No.7 Half Moon Photography Workshop 30 p F ran ce Joie de Viva a of six photographers and one administrator in Viva is docooperativefire engines like two other French agencies, SygmaParis. They not chase and Gamma. Their photographs are quieter. They try to live somewhere between the front page of the morning newspaper and the art gallery. It is difficult territory. Mike Goldwater and Tom Picton went to Newcastle to talk to Herve Gloaguen, Yves Jeanmougin, Martine Franck and Viva’s administrator, Alain Gamier. They had come to England for the opening of their exhibition at the Side Gallery. Tom Picton: Can y o u tell us, first o f all, what Viva is? Martine Franck: Well, Viva is basically a p h o to press agency. We w ork as a c o o p e ra ­ tive, though in fact w e’re really n o t a co ­ operative. We did n ’t really choose ourselves as a group; we came together o u t o f a M other-group called Vu. It was a m uch m ore loosely-knit group, created by Pierre de Fenouil, who is now the director o f the French Photographic F oundation. Although there were 15 in that group, we d id n ’t really know each other. And when th a t group fell ap art, we decided to m ake a m ore serious group. Herve Gloaguen: We thought o f the idea o f creating a real group because Vu had n o t been able to consider a serious project with the photographers being the ow ners o f their agency. We started the project only with the photographers. We needed m oney. We decided to give ourselves three m onths to get the necessary' m oney. For three m onths we m et, and only 7 photographers had got the m oney. Mike G oldw ater: have to p u t up? M artine: £500. H ow m uch did yo u each Tom : What did yo u need m oney fo r? M artine: We w anted at least tw o m onths to be able to pay a salary — for an adm inistrator. Herve: The pressure on the photographer becam e m ore and m ore evident. And I think th a t m ost of th e photographers w ho created Viva at this tim e were good photographers, professionally speaking, b u t they had a feel­ ing for som ething else, doing w hat they like. So there was a need for som ething more than ju st being a professional photographer, and m ore th an ju st p u ttin g good p h o to ­ graphers together to run a small business. Tom : Can yo u specify som e o f these pressures? Herve: Yes. Time pressures. Magazines ask you to m ake good photographs in tw o days, w hich is impossible. I w ent to the U.S. at the tim e when Nixon was the President, and I was very anxious, as a French photographer, to m eet th e silent m ajority in th e U.S. I had the idea for a story of showing the electors o f Nixon because th a t was the tim e when the French press was speaking ab o u t hippies and people n o t involved in the American system . Of course, those were very attractive pictures. is designed to provide a forum for th e exchange o f ideas, views and inform ation on p h o to ­ graphy and oth er forms o f com m unication. By exploring the application, scope and co n ten t o f photography, we intend to dem ystify the process. We see this as p art o f th e struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contrib u te to th e process by which we grow in capacity and pow er to control our own lives. Because I had been traveling several other times in the U.S., I d id n ’t understand why the press was spending so m uch tim e talking ab o u t the hippies and the underground people and in the m eanw hile, th e American system was so strong. I was very anxious to m eet those people who m ade Mr. N ixon President of the U.S. So I proposed to the magazine 1 was working for to send me. They agreed. I intended to m ake a p o rtra it o f the U.S. through problem s th e Americans had. . . the V ietnam War, drug problem s, unem ployed people. . . and th e p o rtra it o f Am erica would be a series of family po rtraits, each w ould have a problem . So the first family I m et was in H ouston, Texas. . . very happy w ith no problem s. They were making a lot of m oney. . . so I to o k a p icture. A nd then 1 w ent to A lbuquerque, New M exico. . . When 1 found a fam ily, I tried to speak ab o u t the V ietnam War, b u t it was very difficult. I was n o t able to find anyone able to face th e cam era for a French magazine and say, “ We are against the V ietnam War” . There were thousands of people dem onstrating in the streets against the war. . . I tried and tried, in California, back to New Y ork, I tried again and I d id n ’t get the picture. So when 1 w ent back 1 was very w orried because I d id n ’t have this picture and that was at the tim e very im p o rtan t in the p o liti­ cal life in America. The E ditor said it w asn’t im p o rtan t to have th a t picture. I felt shattered. . . Tom : Which magazine is this? Herve: Realite. They did n o t publish my story and they ju st w ent to an agency so a photographer got th e assignm ent to cover the story. I have seen the pictures publish­ ed. It was nothing, you know . . . cops in the streets in New Y ork and nothing precise. T h a t’s th e sort o f problem we have. Tom : What did yo u w ant the group to do? M artine: Well we w anted first of all to be able to exploit th e archives. Tom : Does m ost o f yo u r incom e com e fro m archives? M artine: I w ould say ab o u t half and half. I t’s varied according to each photographer. Herve: I think many photographers feel th e necessity to be in a group, to be stim ­ ulated by a group. From th e very start we decided to do a group p roject. First it was on the fam ily.^ Each p h otographer chose a family to photograph. T om : H ow did yo u go about yo u r first “Family P roject”? M artine: Well, we left as m uch freedom as possible to each photographer. Tom : Did yo u consciously have a three m o n th lim it? M artine: Yes, we did. We had the limit because there was a gallery in Milan th a t was prepared to exhibit us, so we had to finish the p roject at a certain date. Tom : A n d what year was this? M artine: 1973. Herve: A fter a while we understood th at m ost of the life o f th e family was spent in the diningroom w ith the TV set. A nd p ra c ti­ cally no pictures outside the house. We tried, b u t it was com pletely different. The unity of th e w ork, o f all the photographers was when the photographs were taken inside and especially at the dining table. T hat was the center o f the family life. The relatio n ­ ship betw een the parents, th e husband and the wife, th e parents w ith the kids because you know , for exam ple, th e meals are very im p o rtan t in France. T h a t’s a social occasion. All the family is around the table, and th a t’s the center o f th e everyday life. . . So it was in th a t “ living” room th a t all o f us This issue o f CAMERAWORK, Ju ly , 1977, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography W orkshop, 27 Alie Street, L ondon, E .I., 01-488—2595. Ed Barber, Terry D ennett, Marilyn Dalick-Noad, Mike G oldw ater, Liz H eron, Sue H obbs, Eric M olden, Tom Picton, J o Spence, Paul Trevor. Printed by Expression Printers, 5 Kingsbury R oad, L ondon, N .l. Typeset by Calvert’s Press, 01-794— 6705. If you have any com m ents to m ake o r articles, letters or prints you w ould like to co n trib u te, we will be glad to hear from you. Please m ake sure it reaches us by 1st August 1977. _______ (ISSN 0308 1676) 9 have taken those photographs. very clear. T hat was Mike: Did yo u fe e l happy with it as a group project? M arline: Looking back at it now , I ’m totally dissatisfied w ith w hat I did, b u t it did gain us recognition as a group. Hcrve: We published a small book as a cata­ logue with pictures o f th e project and we p ut a sort o f statem ent on th e first page. This statem ent explained why w e’d done the project. . . to be more free and to confront ourselves. In France when a photo-researcher looks for a picture o f the fam ily, they w ant a very special image. . . a very protective image. . . a sort of m iddle class couple w ith nice kids, a beautiful car, that sort o f thing. And it was n o t very conscious, b u t we tried to find families who agreed w ith the idea o f being photographed, and w ithout any sociological idea we covered a sort o f landscape o f the French society. And it was n o t the image o f the family th a t the bulk o f magazines and p h o to researchers were accustom ed to seeing. the agency. We make our living from w hat we do as a group as photographers. It’s professional, and it’s philosophy, and all together. . . It’s very difficult to cope with th a t som etim es. Y ou can imagine. The Viva group is also a business; we make m oney through Viva, so we can’t tolerate being w ithout work. Herve: No, I w ant to say th at because we are b oth a group and a business, a founda­ tion like the National Library and the N ational Foundation o f P hotography, d o n ’t w ant to make an exhibition o f Viva as a group because they say th at they w ould ad ­ vertise the Viva business. T h a t’s tru e, and I think it’s a scandal actually. M artine: What we managed to prove is that a group o f photographers — only p h o to ­ graphers — could have the idea o f a p roject, carry it o u t themselves and n ot be d ep en d ­ ent on any outside help or any art director. Alain thinks th at our project was rather resented because we p u t it all together w ith­ out their help. But there is a basic problem and this is each photographer. Personally, I very much prefer working in black and white. Herve: 1 think th at question is very interest­ ing. T h at’s the problem o f our tim e. In our tim e colour is very im portant. I see in colours, so I d o n ’t sec any reason why not to shoot in colours because I am basically in te r­ ested in reality. Most people think th at black and w hite pictures are more pow erful and violent and dram atic than colour because colour has been used in a very glamorous way. You know the photographs o f David Hamilton probably. So th a t’s the use o f colour which is very glam orous. And th a t’s one possible use for colour. A nother who tried was Ernst Haas, to .u se m ovem ent with colour, b u t it’s very glam orous again. I think now the problem is to w ork in colour and to get the violence and th e same dram atic aspects as we have in black and w hite. It’s very exciting, I think. M artine: I’m w orking on a book in colour, because although this is som ething I’ve been asked to d o, w hat really interests me is to Mike: Did you go through each others' contact sheets, did you select each oth ers' pictures or did you work individually and then use your pictures? M artine: Occasionally we did it together, though n o t everyone is impressed w'ith the same image. And it’s a question of tim e. For this exhibit, each photographer m ade his own selection for final inclusion. Uerve: A fter four or five weeks we got to ­ gether and looked at the 8 x 1 0 pictures and we p ut them on the table. At first it felt very dram atic because we suddenly felt we were involved with a project. We did n ’t think o f very much when we started, because we were co n fro n ted w ith the quality of pictures. M artine: O ne photographer left, in fact, afterw ards. . . Hcrve: Yes, th a t’s right, because he could n ot face the situation of being confronted w ith all th e pictures by all members o f Viva. T om : A n d have you done any projects since then ? M artine: No, strangely enough, we haven’t done any oth er group projects, which is a good question. . . Why? I think one o f the reasons is th a t certain photographers felt th a t it was an im position to w ork in a group. A nd there was a depth of reaction after this project on the family. . . for each p h o to ­ grapher to go in his ow n way and to w ork as m uch as possible b u t to work in his own w ay. . . and I think this was done for a period o f years, and I think it was very b en e­ ficial. M aybe now w e’d think o f the idea of doing a group project again. . . b u t I d o n ’t think it’s good to do too m any group projects. We have heard so m any tim es w hen we operate as single photographers we are b etter photographers than if we are involved w ith a group project. Mike: Who to ld yo u that? M artine: Many people. The project, “ Families in France” was never published in a French magazine, and the galleries were n ot enthusiastic at all w ith the pictures of the family project. . . only in foreign countries. So that has an influence on the p hotographers’ feelings about their w ork. Mike: To what ex te n t, then, do yo u fe e l that y o u ’re a group, i f yo u d o n ’t work together? M artine: I think we are still very much a group because the w hole organization o f the agency lies in our hands. . . the w hole policy. We started som ething recently w hich has brought us closer together insom uch as w e’ve decided to finance certain projects for Mike: Politically w ould yo u say that the group has any kin d o f alignm ent or direction? M artine: I th in k necessity com es first. It’s obvious th at we are n o t very com mercial photographers, and it’s obvious that we could n o t be used for p u blicity, for adver­ tising. It happens som etim es th at we have an assignment for publicity b u t, in fact, we are n ot very good advertising photographers and I th in k th a t’s the main reason. Tom : Is yo u r devotion, yo u m ight say, to a particular “truth ” in photography rather than a particular “tr u th ’’ in politics or social term s ? M artine: I th in k it’s m ore photographic than political. Tom : I f yo u look at the photographs you get a feeling that there is a very strong s y m ­ p a th y that w ould lead to a socialist o u tlo o k in life. M artine: Yes, I think th a t’s tru e, b u t I th in k it w ould go a b it far to say th at w e’d refuse to earn a bit o f m oney for political reasons. . . I w ould like to be able to say it, b u t I d o n ’t th in k it w ould be tru e. Herve: Basically, as photographers, we like people. Some o f us are going fu rth er m aybe. Because they like people, they like to be m ore involved in th e political life, for exam ­ ple. But i t ’s a prolongation o f w hat they are as photographers. M artine: And it’s a very individual co m m it­ m ent. Like I d o n ’t think as a group we have a political com m itm ent. Tom : Do yo u think any good pictures were left o u t because o f the discussion? M artine: No, 1 d o n ’t think so. Tom : What were the advantages o f having the group do a thing on th e fa m ily rather than one individual? Herve: For me it’s a kind o f unconscious reaction against th e isolated photographer w orking in his way to a sort o f m asterpiece and spending his life doing th e same thing. The concept w ith a group project is differ­ ent. Instead o f being isolated for five or ten years, like m any photographers are. . . I ’m n ot against th a t, b u t it’s another way of p h o to graphy. We have the real possibility of collecting many pictures at short hand. . . in three or four m onths. T h a t’s w hat we did, actually with the family project. A rbus — or at least, I co u ld n ’t. Or a French Leslie Krims. This very cruel streak. . . Herve: T h a t’s the problem of America. It’s different, you know . We are n ot co n fronted in France w ith the violence like New York City. . . so it m ust be different. M artine: I t ’s not th e w hole co untry which is latent social violence. . . France is very vio­ lent, indeed. . . b u t in America one has the impression th at it’s a constant latent violence. . . tension. New Y ork, 1971 totally d ifferent, b u t in a way it ’s linked. . . can you really make an exhibit after only having w orked three m onths, on a them e? But I think th at w hat w e’ve show n here, this is the p roduct o f five y ear’s w ork. Tom : H ow do yo u relate to other agencies like Sygm a and Gamma? H ow do yo u see yourselves? M artine: I d o n ’t think we relate really verym uch, because for one thing we d o n ’t have any contracts with any local newspapers which Gamm a and Sygma do. T hey have to produce a certain am ount o f w ork every day. We d o n ’t really cover “h o t” leads. We’ll cover stories obviously th a t are related to events which are happening in th e news, b u t we give it m ore tim e and w e’re n o t com petitive. Sygma and Gam m a have excellent journalists and photographers, b u t they w ork on a press basis which means th a t they can’t sort o f send o u t tvhat th e y ’ve w anted to cover. . . while Viva, it’s the p h o to g rap h ­ ers w ho decide w hat they w ant to cover. This has its good aspects and its bad aspects, b u t the fact is w e’ve becom e journalists b e ­ cause our photographs are used in the press. Mike: Do yo u charge a set agency fe e fo r yo u r pictures used in the press? M artine: Yes. In France there is an organi­ zation called the A.N.P.P.N. which m ost press photographers belong to , and they defend us very well. Herve: I th in k th a t photojournalism means to be co n fro n ted w ith th e reality o f life. T h a t’s w hat makes the difference, for exam ple, with new American photography. New American photographers, generally speaking, they set up their m eans, they have an idea, shall I say fantasm a. . . M artine: They set it up. . . Herve: We do th e co n trary . We like to dream because we try to be as creative as we can and the concept o f creativity for p h o to ­ graphers is very im p o rtan t for us. We dream from the reality; we see as photojournalists. So we need to be co n fro n ted with situations. We try to create from th e reality we see. Tom : Do y o u always work in black and w hite? M artine: No, no. Tom : B ut what proportion? M artine: I t’s very variable according to see how far I can get in color. Mike: W hat’s the subject? M artine: I t’s an area in France, in Provence. Basically landscapes. I hesitated very much in accepting to do this book. Tom : What do yo u think. . . are the problem s o f w orking in colour? M artine: The problem s arc n ot so much in landscape b u t in photographing people. I think one gets distracted by colour. . . taken away from th e em otional co n ten t o f the photographers. . . th e re’s always to o much colour. So in a y ear’s tim e I’ll be able to tell y o u how I’ve go tten along in colour. Tom : A m I right in assuming that m ost o f th e group is interested in doing series o f pictures? Herve: I think there are tw o levels o f read ­ ing in ph o to g rap h y , and for th e p h o to ­ grapher him self. All o f us, we like stories. Suppose every year you make a dozen stories for y o u r ow n purpose, so th a t’s the best of you and in those stories you could select about a dozen photographs. A fter every three years, for exam ple, you have a look at y o u r w ork. If you look at the contact sheets, because the stories have been m ade a long tim e ago, you look at the pictures differently. I t’s a second reading of yourself. Some of the things you d id n ’t think o f appear. You understand, the question is to show a perm anence of th e way o f photography. T h a t’s the second level. You d o n ’t know w ho you are; you d o n ’t know w hat interests you. Even if you have taken thousands o f photographs and you have been doing many stories, for an exhibition you go back to the best o f y o u r w ork, you try to be very clear and a link appears you never th in k o f b e­ tw een those pictures. In M artine’s w ork, for exam ple, every picture has been taken from a different sto ry , and when she did the sto ry , she probably never thought ab o u t the link betw een them . May I ask you a question? Do y o u think there is m uch difference in th e way of photography betw een the British p h o to ­ graphers like Patrick Ward and Ian Berry, for exam ple — and Viva? Tom : I think there is, yes. I th in k th e re’s a h u m anity about French photography as a group. One co u ld n ’t imagine a French Diane Tom : The other problem , it seems to me, is that i f you look at the arts. . . the novel or the p oem , th ey generally deal w ith people at a crisis situation. A n d a lo t o f classic p h o to ­ journalism has dealt with people in crisis situations'. The obvious exam ple is war p h o ­ tography. Do yo u fin d it a problem to deal photographically with non-crisis situations? I t seems to m e the area th a t y o u ’ve chosen is perhaps one o f the hardest areas to p h o to ­ graph effectively. Herve: I th in k th a t every m em ber of Viva doesn’t like to take advantage o f dram atic situations. A nd i t ’s a very difficult problem . We ju st walk in the streets and you know th a t you m ust find som ething. And th a t’s w hat we do every day. And th a t’s m aybe the basic am bition o f Viva . . . to show som ething from nothing. N ot to take advan­ tage o f a dram atic situation. L ook, these pictures have been taken inside when the troops to o k over. So th a t’s the picture I to o k . T h a t’s the best p ictu re I have taken inside. So even if we are co n fro n ted , som e­ tim es we like it because we are photojournalists and we like a reality. I w ent to Saigon because I was very co n ­ cerned by the end o f a thirty-year w ar, and I thought th at the Viva group had to be a w it­ ness o f a very im p o rtan t historical m om ent. When we w ent there, it was as p h o to jo u rn al­ ists, and I got the cover of th e Sunday Times Magazine for four color pages. But I think th e best picture I to o k there has no connection w ith any war. So even if we are con fro n ted , even if we come from ourselves with a dram atic situation, we have a sort of reflex o f n o t to take advantage o f th at dram atic situation. I th in k it ’s very basic. Tom : But I got th e impression that you were refusing to go to such historic m om ents. Herve: No. Francois w ent to Portugal and th a t was a very dram atic m om ent, and he was published on the cover o f Paris Match. Myself, I have been to Saigon. I covered the take-over by th e GRP troops and o f course I have tak en m any pictures at dram atic m om ents. A nd we have been in dem onstra­ tions. . . and I’ll probably go to Spain next w eek because I th in k in Spain there is a very historical situation and I feel concerned by th a t. But it depends. Here is an exhibition o f photography and as a group, w hat could be the best stu ff to show? I t ’s a different w ay. Suppose you organise an exhibiton as Viva as a witness o f dram atic m om ents. We could provide you w ith different pictures because we are n o t single-minded p h o to ­ graphers. It depends. Because photography is n o t only one thing. I t’s m any things. Francois Hers/Viva Marline Franck/Viva rJ > > ~C ~ Si 3 E c 2 Manoeuvres Control, 1976. From “The Family" project. 4 THE REAL PARIS O F THE THIRTIES ? Brothel interior. At an artists’ dance in Montparnasse Conchita the dancer in a cafe with sailors. by Liz Heron hen Brassai’ photographs o f Paris de Nuit (Paris by Night) were first s published in the thirties they were received with admiration and delight all over the world. Praise from photographers was abundant and Emerson awarded Brassai a medal for his work. These pictures were recently published for the first time in England as The Secret Paris o f the Thirties. Perhaps the English title is a clue to the appeal the book is intended to have; the choice o f cover picture certainly is - a group o f naked prostitutes, backs to the camera, display themselves to a client while the madam, apparently concealing her face from the camera, makes the intro­ ductions. W The reproduction o f some o f the pictures as a feature in one o f the Sunday supple­ ments to coincide with publication no doubt helped boost some sales in the direction o f the coffee table market and enhanced the appeal o f the mild sensationalism implicit in the b ook ’ title. Even if you couldn’run to s t £10.50 to buy a copy you could still have a Glimpse o f the Secret Paris o f the Thirties for only 22p. When I opened the book I found a co l­ lection o f extraordinary photographs. Extraordinary because o f their technical quality — they were almost all taken at night, extraordinary because o f their content; prostitutes and gangsters on the streets, brothel interiors and bedroom scenes, homosexual bars and dance halls, student “ orgies”and opium smokers. One question I was prompted to ask was why did Brassai take these pictures? Or rather, two questions — why did he choose to photograph this side o f Parisian life and what was he saying about the people in these pictures? The accompanying text is very’ revealing and since it was only written for the recent English publication it dwells very much on nostalgia for the Paris o f these pictures that has now disappeared. Brassai’ nostalgia for s Paris Lost extends to the tramps who lived rough all over the Latin Quarter and the banks o f the Seine. He laments their depar­ ture as an example o f how progress destroys the picturesque, commenting that Parisians didn’ even give a thought to the possibility t o f setting up reservations for them as the Americans did for their Indians (I speculated that this particular observation might just have been made with an irony lost in the translation). For him the tramps are des­ cendants o f the city ’ mediaeval beggars just s as the prostitutes on the streets are arche­ types, shadowy women in doorways and on street corners echoing their sisters over the centuries. La Mome Bijou, an old woman rumoured to be a former courtesan, confronts the camera with all the confidence o f her world­ ly experience. Her eyes are hard. Despite her age and the extravagance o f her fake jewelry she is not pitiful. There is nostalgia in the photograph and in the anecdote that accompanies it. Paris in popular mythology is many layers o f nostalgia; the Romantic era, the Belle Epoque when Edward VII as Prince o f Wales was one o f the really Big Spenders in the more luxurious bordellos (Unfortunately Brassai was unable to photograph the Hindu Room which Edward had specially created in homage to his mother, Victoria, the Empress o f India, in the most high class brothel o f the city.) Then there was Picasso and cubism; the post-war generation o f the Dadaists and Surrealists. . . Paris in the twenties and thirties was still the artistic and cultural magnet o f the world. Walter Benjamin described it as the capital o f the nineteenth century. Gertrude Stein made it her home in 1903. Years later she said, “ Paris was the place that suited those o f us that were to create the twentieth century art and literature.” Now speculators rule, as rents and tower blocks go up all over the city and cheap bohemian style living is a thing o f the past. Tourist guides deposit their charges in Place Pigalle to search for that elusive Gay Paree and the cops have somewhat dampened the atmosphere in the Latin Quarter. he opening picture introduces the reader to Paris by night. From the top o f Notre Dame, with the gargoyles, you look down through the fog on a mysterious city, its lights glimmering invitingly. In most o f his pictures what Brassai is ex­ ploring is, in his own words, “ beauty of the evil and the magic o f the lower depths.” Gangsters are heroic individuals. A double page juxtaposition o f two pictures creates the illusion o f a confrontation between a group o f policemen looking with uncertainty and apprehension in the direction o f a for­ midable lineup o f toughs from Big Albert’ s gang. I cannot see their faces but their ag­ gressive pose and their emergence from the shadows behind them into the brightness of the street convinces me o f their nonchalance and cool superiority as they face the intimi­ dated agents o f law and order across the page. This clever juxtaposition reflects Brassai’ admiration for criminals and others s on the margins o f society. In comm on with many o f his contemporaries he found inspir­ ation in the works o f Stendhal, Nietzsche and Dostoevsky. He points out, . . And let there be no mistake. The admiration ex­ pressed by the author o f Crime and Punish­ ment was not for revolutionary intellectuals or for political prisoners, but for real crimin­ als: thieves, murderers, convicts.” This infatuation with the underworld was by no means an idiosyncracy for it char­ acterised many artistic and literary circles throughout this period. Toulouse Lautrec and Degas had found much inspiration in brothels and cabarets, and for the young bo- T N onetheless, the pictures th at capture in ti­ m ate relationships are am ong the best in the book. Some are in the chapter on the BalsM usettes, the low class dance halls whose shady rep u tatio n and folkloric atm osphere so attracted Brassai. His pictures in the wings at the Folies Bergeres are dazzling, the sense o f spectacle accentuated by the angle of view, usually high above the stage. The camera is no ordinary spectator. A strain th at runs through Brassai's te x t is regret for the big business take-over o f the ‘rackets’, together with the disappearance of some o f the more picturesque aspects of poverty. W hether it is personally m ore or less desirable to be exploited by a middle class brothel ow ner than by the anonym ous face o f gangster capitalism ; w hat it w ould be like to sleep rough in all w eathers as thousands did in the thirties, are questions th a t Brassai did n o t seem interested in asking. The cosiness of his pictures in Suzy, an establishm ent th at discreetly catered to respectable m erchants, contrasts w ith his horrified description of a p roduction line brothel. It was inevitable th at crim e and prostitu tio n should thrive in the Depression years. Brassai’s book ignores these connections and docum ents an exotic oth er reality which can be all too easily identified in nostalgic im aginations with th at aesthetic w ord, Paris. The Secret Paris o f the Thirties obscures m ore than it reveals. David Seymour, hemians of the thirties slumming was the fashionable way to rebel against bourgeois morals. Brassai certainly took risks to get some of his pictures b u t it was all part o f the fascination, and some o f his locations were n ot quite so inaccessible to spectators as they might appear. Biographies and memoirs record th a t an outing to a brothel was n ot an unusual way for a group of friends to round o ff an evening. In her journals, Anais Nin describes a voyeuristic visit to a brothel w ith her friend, Henry Miller. Henry Miller was also Brassai’s friend and his com panion on many forays into the night. He is much q u o ted , characteristically, in th e chapter on the urinals o f Paris which is illustrated with tw o m oonlit photographs. T o Henry Miller’s delight in these m alodor­ ous em blem s o f male exhibitionism Brassai adds P roust’s description o f hom osexual en ­ counters — again the irresistible atm osphere o f vice and corruption. His pictures o f hom osexual m en, in the chapter entitled “ Sodom and G om orrah” , convey, on the contrary an impression of gaiety. People are innocently having a good tim e dancing in a place where they can relax. There is more lewdness on the faces o f the student revellers in the preceding chapter. Brassai had been a sculptor and it was these night rambles th a t inspired him to docum ent w hat he saw through photo g ra­ p hy. It was also the w ork o f A ndre Kertesz that inspired him to use photography. Their technique and their them es are similar. The m ystery and am biguity I associate w ith voyeurism is absent from K ertesz’s pictures of Paris in th e tw enties b u t they say m ore to me than Brassai’s enclosed and private w orld; his glimpses o f private relationships. The Secret Paris o f the Thirties by Brassai (Thames and H udson, L ondon, 1976), £10.50 , hardback. he thirties were Depression years. In understand that language, the meaning of 1932 the crisis hit France. U nem ploy­ the photographs is clear enough. m ent rose dram atically and actual wage Some pictures are already familiar — the levels took a drop th a t continued relentless­ contex t adds meaning to Cartier-Bresson’s ly over the next three years, in some cases photographs of French families in the sinking to less than half w hat they were in co untry , for these were their first sum m er 1929. holidays for many w orking people. Many Wages shrank and w orking hours got long­ others are previously unpublished. Robert Capa and David Seym our arc no longer alive. er. At th e same tim e fascism, already pow er­ The b o o k ’s publication last year coincided ful across the frontiers o f G erm any and w ith the fortieth anniversary of the Popular Italy, threatened to grow inside France. In F ront. These days images of the thirties are 1934 there was an attem p t at a fascist coup very much with us. We face u n em ploy­ and right wing dem onstrations to o k place Miners on Strike — The econom ic crisis forced them to accept wage rates cut by m ore than m ent and falling standards o f living on a alm ost daily. The Popular F ront was form ed half to ensure increased productivity. smaller scale b u t the parallels can be draw n. as a response to this situation. Front chronology o f events and quotes co n tem p o r­ class people and, w ithout making heroes of Much o f the photographic docum entation of Populaire, a book o f photographs by R obert them , affirm s their strength. ary com m entators. As one might expect, those years leaves an impression o f misery Capa and David Seym our (Chim), w ith some th e w riter’s political sym pathies arc even and defeat. We can learn a lot from those by Cartier-Bresson, situates the real begin­ m ore specifically identifiable. However, I F ront Populaire by R obert Capa and David images b u t it is im portant to rem em ber th at ning of the Popular Front in the mass d e ­ w ould n o t describe Front Populaire as Seym our (Chim) with te x t by G eorgette there was also resistance. m onstration o f 14th Ju ly 1935 and do cu ­ In F ront Populaire, th e political perspec­ polem ical: rath er th a t its images say som e­ Elgey (Chene/M agnum, Paris, 1976), £ 6 .95, m ents events through its period o f govern­ tive o f the photographers is evident. The paperback. thing about the dynam ic of mass struggle. m en t from May ‘36 to early ‘38. te x t is retrospective. G eorgette F.lgey gives a It concerns itself w ith the lives of working Most if n o t all the pictures were taken in Paris. There are political leaders making vehem ent speeches, w riters and intellectuals m eeting at an international conference: rest­ less financiers gather outside the Stock Exchange and fascists give th e salute at a m eeting, b u t these images are peripheral. The b ook docum ents the events o f 1936 as an explosion of hope for ordinary people. Election jubilation is follow ed by a General Strike and factories in occupation. What one com m entator described at the tim e as “ a prolonged picnic” had begun. And in fact these pictures convey n o t only the d eter­ m ination to fight and win — like the d eter­ m ination o f the striking miners who face the cam era with th e raised fist salute and a look th at leaves no d o u b t about th e seriousness of their purpose — b u t also the excitem ent o f liberation. Shop assistants occupy the big departm ent stores. Workers organise day-today life inside an occupied factory; food is prepared together; m eetings are held; people relax, laughing and fooling around; they sleep beside their m achines. O n 7th J u n e the M atignon Agreements won wage increases and some im provem ents in w orking conditions, including for the first tim e in France, holidays w ith pay. A lthough great num bers o f w orkers held o u t until Ju ly the revolution so many had hoped for had turned from its course. The Popular F ront G overnm ent lasted for an o th er year and a half. T hreatened from outside and unable to m aintain its unity while the right grew stronger, it d is in te ­ grated. The final image in the book is a child laying a w reath on a m em orial. N one­ theless it closes w ith the rem inder th a t in the collective m em ory o f French people, 1936 evokes freedom and jo y . The b o o k is really a celebration o f th a t year although m any pictures relate to events before and after. The te x t is in French. Even if y ou d o n ’t The first night o f th e occupation at Renault. Within a day 80,000 carworkers had occupied different R enault and Citroen factories. Robert Capa/Magnum T 6 The Unpolitical We w elcom e Roger M ayne’s article (CAMERAWORK 6) and the issues it raises. However, the problem o f being able to dis­ tinguish betw een a ‘working class’ or a ‘m iddle class’ photographer doesn’t seem to us to be o f such prim ary im portance. R ather, it might be useful to ask how their photographs are decoded and used by various audiences. What we m ean by this will becom e clearer w hen we have looked at some o f the problem s involved in producing and using images. The argum ent th a t photographers should decide w hether to spend their tim e taking photographs or going into politics is equally confusing. We believe th a t photographers are already in politics. This is because the images we m ake carry ideological messages w hich, cum ulatively, help to shape people’s ideas, values and attitudes. If we are shown enough pictures of w om en’s bodies, or packets o f Daz, then we could probably con­ clude th a t society has a value for such im agery. E qually, if we d o n ’t see certain aspects of society then we could conclude th at their ommission (if we even notice it) is because they are of no im portance. In this respect photographers cannot be anything b u t political. What Roger Mayne really seems to be asking is “What is the class nature of a photograph? ” As this is so o ften forgotten or glossed over tod ay , it is this particular question to which we w ould like to address ourselves. m ust consider at w hat historical and econom ic p o in t in tim e th e p ictu re was taken and how this can co n trib u te to various interpretations. Finally, it is crucial to raise the question o f the beholder. What bias do they inflect in the viewing o f the picture or in the read­ ing o f the tex t (language is also ideologically biased and can be understood in many ways)? What might be the possible responses o f a person w ho is n o t p art o f the social, sexual or racial groups an image is explicitly directed at? A ll photographs are message carriers, either betw een mem bers of the same social class who share com m on codes, or betw een differing classes and cultures. In our society m ost o f the ‘messages’ received by the w ork­ ing class are m ediated via the m iddle class. Clearly, m ost o f these messages are class biased (as well as being biased in oth er ways), and they conceal or d istort the relationships o f w orking class people w ith all other classes, and o ften w ith each o th er. Sometimes these messages are so disto rted th at they need the m edium of fantasy, as in the cartoon. This co n trib u tes to the general lack o f inform ation about the true nature of social and econom ic relationships (what Marxists call ‘false consciousness’). However, in order to begin to answer M ayne’s question we first need to discuss some o f the term in ­ ology which is required and then to find a co n tex t in which to apply it. The Neutral World? Class Experiences There seems to be a widespread assum ption am ong photographers th a t their w ork is som ehow ‘n eutral’ or apolitical. T hat politics is som ething th a t goes on in Parlia­ m ent or th e White House. How do we co n ­ vince them th a t they are m istaken? We have approached th e problem by listing various stages at which m anipulation or bias can occur in the production o f photographs. Bearing in m ind the fact th a t only a m inute p ro p o rtio n o f w ork ever reaches a wide audi­ ence because o f the choosing o f p h o to ­ graphers by potential buyers, publishers, galleries or grant-funding bodies, the follow ­ ing will all have a bearing on the final p h o to ­ graphs, and th en the way they are received and decoded: In m ost social and econom ic relations there is a basic antagonism betw een those who have the pow er to m ake decisions and have them carried o u t, linked to those who have the authority to carry o ut such decisions — and those who have neither the pow er nor the a u th o rity. The term ‘working class’ is usually taken to m ean people who have no means of p roduction and w ho earn their living by selling their labour pow er to others. As a generic term it is perhaps misleading (there are now m any definitions o f it) b e­ cause w ithin the w orking class itself there are m any hierarchies o f pow er and earning capacity, as well as sexual and racial oppression. Where Do Ideas Come From? 1. The consciousness of the photographer (i.e., their philosophical understanding) and thence their use of th e cam era; 2. T heir darkroom practice; 3. The editorial process o f choosing from a range o f pictures (both as done by the photographer and as done to her/him — y ou c a n ’t evaluate anyone by their published w ork alone); 4. The juxtap o sitio n o f different pictures during layout; 5. The addition of te x t; 6. A consideration o f the con tex t in w hich it appears (i.e., w hat else appears alongside it); 7. What form does it take (i.e., is it in a new spaper, on a gallery wall, in a fam ily album , in a school reading book? This last p o in t raises a w hole range of questions th a t also need to be asked. For exam ple, is the image: a. for public or private consum ption (i.e., to be looked at in the street, trans­ m itted to the hom e, stood on the piano)? b . for distribution as p art o f mass m edia, by governm ent bodies, through ‘altern ate’ or m inority channels? c. free, inexpensive, easily accessible or exclusive? d. aim ed at a particular group (e.g., army recruits, m anagers, m um s)? e. aim ed at a particular social or econom ic class? It is also im portant to consider how m uch access photographers are allowed to specific areas o f public life (for exam ple, schools, factories and courts are all “private p ro p erty ” ). Also, how m uch censorship is exercised b oth at the individual, group or class level' , o r by th e state? A nother essential factor is the question o f w ho owns or controls th e m eans o f production and re ­ p ro d u ction o f an image (i.e., do they have a vested interest, either financially or ideologi­ cally, in propagating or om itting certain images and not others? ) N ot least o f all we Are they God-given or m ystical? No. They have their roots in th e day-to-day world w hich has shaped us since b irth . Western society has gone through various historical and econom ic developm ents, including patriarchy, capitalism and imperialism; each m oulding o u r attitu d es, values and laws with their respective ideologies of sex, class and race oppression. Such oppression — which is still with us — is n o t simply a m atter o f class discrim ination betw een some groups, or sex or race discrim ination betw een others. It is a m ixture o f all three, th e balance o f w hich is constantly shifting, b o th at the individual and group levels. However, we believe th at the fundam ental oppression still rem ains a m atter o f o n e’s class. If we take these structures as a starting p o in t, any understanding o r teaching of photography should be extended to examine our social and econom ic history. We can then look at o u r own preconceptions with regard to o th er com plexities such as ‘hum an n atu re’, language, science, psychology, culture and art. Depending on our ultim ate ‘world view’ and w here we th in k we as photographers fit into all this, and which social group/s we identify w ith, so will this influence how we proceed to docum ent the world and show (or hide) these structures and relationships in o u r photographs. clock BRITISH IN ?0.tTLY RLCA S6 MikeWhil who mine leyland L \.\rt>o’ F R A N K .U N Professional and Class Codes All image makers (and photographers are no exception) m ust codify ‘reality ’ in a num ber o f w ays, b o th at the shooting and p rodu ctio n stages o f their w ork. Their own class, sex, age and race are factors which are usually ignored and y et are crucial when one is concerned to understand m ore clearly the problem s o f viewing, selecting and evaluating a poten tial subject for a ph o to g rap h . Such factors will influence, how ever un­ consciously, th e technological, aesthetic and ideological choices th a t have to be m ade for the actual taking o f a p ictu re and th e subse­ quent processes it undergoes. The dom inant codes th a t pervade all stages o f the process, and which com bine to form th e biased view o f the w orld th a t helps | author ' publisher form audience tex t MINDA Workers Action Revolutionary Socialist Weekly newspaper M ilitant workers “ Grunwicks* — picket over union recognition attacked by the police. 17.6.77.” *(Grunwicks arc photographic colour processors and printers.) O a uthor publisher form audience Philip W olmuth W estminster E m pty Property Action Campaign Exhibition and press release at House of Commons National Press and M.P.’s O author ^ publisher form audience text Jean M ohr/w ith Jo h n Berger Penguin Book, ‘A Seventh Man’ General public “ . . j t is n o t men who imm igrate but machine-m inders, sw eepers, diggers, cem ent m ixers, cleaners, drillers. . .’’ author publisher form audience Hackney Flashers Collective Hackney Flashers Collective Poster (flyposted by authors) General population o f H ackney, East L ondon C author publisher form Irene Barki The Sunday Times Weekly magazine, adult readership 3,844,000. Photograph? by Terry Dennett and Jo Spence to m ain tain th e statu s q u o , are beco m in g m o re an d m o re p a rt o f th e learn ed p ro fe s ­ sional p ractice w ith in colleges, universities an d p ro fessio n al in s titu tio n s. P ro fessio n al­ ism encourages th e use o f ‘codes o f c o n d u c t’ an d ‘stan d ard s o f ex cellen ce’ w hich are n o t seen by th e p a rtic ip a n ts as b eing p o litical. In th e m ain these are n o t p e rp e tu a te d by coersion b u t b y pro fessio n al c o n se n t an d can b eco m e m o re e x trem e according to the p o litical clim ate. T hus we learn to p olice ourselves. A n d , as p h o to g ra p h y slow ly b ecom es m o re p ro fessio n aliz ed , so it is b eing seen as th e delegated task o f som e ‘p h o to g ra p h e rs’ or ‘a rtis ts ’ to reco rd th e lives o f w orking class p e o p le . It is im p o rta n t to ask w h a t is th e class n a tu re o f th e re latio n sh ip s b etw een these p eo p le and th o se th e y p h o to g ra p h . P articu larly in view o f th e fact th a t m o st w ork in g class p e o p le already ow n cam eras them selves an d c o u ld easily re c o rd m ore aspects o f th e ir o w n lives if en co u rag ed to see b e y o n d th e lu crativ e sm o k escreen o f K odak tech n o lo g y an d th e c o n su m er e th ic. Mass p h o to g ra p h y has never b een reg ard ed at any tim e as an im p o rta n t d o c u m e n ta ry fo rm (although it is o fte n seen as such once th e m aterial has b eco m e ‘h is to ric a l’). Having said th a t it m u st be reaffirm ed th a t b ecause so m eo n e m ay be sy m p a th e th ic o r belonging to th e w ork in g class, or critical o f th e ruling class, it does n o t necessarily follow th a t th ey will have a c o h e re n t p o litical c ritiq u e o f social an d eco n o m ic relatio n sh ip s — an d th e ir p h o to g ra p h y will te n d to re fle c t this. Looking at Pictures In exam ining d o c u m e n ta ry p h o to g ra p h s o f w o rk in g class life we have fo u n d th a t em phasis has usually b een p lace d u p o n social c u sto m s and co n d itio n s (disaster, d e p riv a­ tio n , ‘d e v ia tio n ’, c e le b ra tio n , tra d itio n ). W hat has b e e n m o st ignored has b een th e la b o u r process (activity a ro u n d th e ‘p o in t o f p ro d u c tio n ’) — th e real w o rld th a t m illions o f us w ake up to every day o f o u r lives. A w o rld w hich is a p p a re n tly invisible if on e is to judge from th e im ages seen in th e m ed ia, or ap pearing in m ost p h o to g ra p h ic m ag a­ zines or galleries. P h o to g rap h y conveys a great deal o f in fo rm a tio n to us, b u t in stead o f clarifying class roles it m y stifies; u nivers­ alizing an d generalizing situ atio n s so th a t social and eco n o m ic c o n tra d ic tio n s and b o u n d aries are b lu rre d o r d isap p ear en tire ly . All form s o f la b o u r a n d p ro d u c tio n are to ta lly m isrep resen ted . F o r in sta n c e , in p u b ­ licatio n s aim ed a t a mass w o rk in g class a u d i­ ence th e em phasis o f w o rk is usually u p o n th e u n ty p ic a l (en te rta in e rs, p o litician s, sp o rtsp e o p le , stars) as th e im p o rta n t w orkers in o u r so ciety . In d u strial o r m an u al w orkers seldom ap p ear. C onversely, in p u b lic a tio n s aim ed at m id d le an d u p p e r class au diences, w o rk ers o fte n a p p ear (as th e y also do in specialist jo u rn als) w here th e ir tru e fu n c tio n — to p ro d u c e w ealth fo r o th e rs an d to be c o n tro lle d — is o n ly to o a p p a re n t. In try in g to analyse an d co m p are w hat p a rtic u la r p h o to g ra p h e rs o r a rtists are doing in th e ir w o rk th e re is no reaso n to use esoteric o r m averick ap p ro ach es. I t is far m o re im p o rta n t to try to arrive a t a b ro a d set o f assu m p tio n s an d to use a co m m o n Continued on next page Arthur Maguire:“The Midland's performance has always helped Champion run smoothly.” A rthur Maguire is Managing director o f T he Champion sparking Mug Co. Ltd. whose ipark plugs are chosen ft* most if th e cars in Britain and warty alt th e G rand Prix a d ng care. T h e Champion Sparking with day-to-day hanking services that is roost important to us. “We export throughout the world, and t here are considerable foreign currency transactions for the Midland to handle. And with mutual understanding it all runs very smoothly" W hatever your business, large or small, youli find the choice o f a bank can make all the difference in performance and smooth running. Have a word with your local Midland manager. It could spark off a very happy working relationship. in □SI vc. "... elationship with the Midland. gSnjjgi W KKtKKKKKKKr .. “In 1972-th e year we **""*■ " ' T T .~ celebrated our Golden -our £4 million ceramic factory in the Wirral v a ^ » P w t e d ,t o make our Upton complex the largest ©fits ype W fcprope. T he Midland Bank Group played a major part n its financing. But its the Midland's friendly co-operation tex t : audience : O author ^ publisher : form : tex t : audience : “ 1st Prize in Hasselblad Photographic C om petition. . . ‘wom en sitting there in alm ost perfect sym m etry, m otio n ­ less, expressing 2000 years of bore­ dom and exploitation. . .’ ” Group A — 10% ; B — 29% ; C l - 36% ; C2 - 16% ; D - 6% ; E - 2% .* Thorp Popxdar Photography M onthly magazine “ close-up o f w orker’s cottonshielded, dust-covered ear. The day was ‘pure hell — 99 degrees F .’ T horp used 55-mm lens.” Photographers (but originally taken as public relations picture for American labour union). author 7 publisher form : : : audience : 8 a uthor : publisher : form : audience : Franklin Sun Newspaper, adult readership 12,569,000 daily Group A — negligible; B — 3% C l - 18% ; C2 - 42% ; D - 30% E -6 % . not know n, b u t produced for Weetabix W oman’s Realm Magazine, adult readership 3,758,000 weekly Group A - 1% ; B - 9% ; C l - 26% C2 - 34% ; D - 20% ; E - 11% q author * 3 publisher : form te x t : audience : -j Q author publisher : form : audience : A G R E A T BRITISH BANK Laurie Lew is/caption writer Tim e/Life Hardcover book “L ondon” (in great city series) “ Four Cockney posters express their infectious joie de vivre by a b it of horseplay in the Sm ithfield meat m arket.” Mixed, b u t aim ed a t groups B and C l not know n, b u t produced for Midland Bank PUNCH Weekly magazine, adult readership 867,000 Group A - 11% ; B - 28% ; C l 26% ; C2 - 20% ; D - 7% ;E - 3% . ^N atio n al R eadership Surveys pro v id e d a ta a b o u t socio-econom ic gradings as follow s: (B ased o n ‘H ead o f H o u se h o ld ’ O ccu p a tio n /E a rn in g C apacity) G ro u p A — U p p er Class an d U pper M iddle Class (senior p ro fe s­ sionals, senior civil servants, p riv ate m eans) G ro u p B — M iddle Class (in term ed iate m anagerial a n d adm in.) G ro u p C l- L o w er M iddle Class (su p er­ visory o r clerical, ju n io r ad m in , an d p rofessional) G ro u p C2- S killed w ork in g m an u al w o rk ers class an d G ro u p D — W orking class (sem i a n d u n ­ skilled m an u al w orkers) G ro u p E — L ow est levels o f subsistence a language which is scientifically based. This could m ost usefully be the language and m ethodology of dialectical and historical m aterialism 2. Working in this m anner we could then move on from the lim itations and am biguity o f such subjective w ords as ‘excellent’, ‘fine’, ‘sensitive’, ‘strong’, etc. and discuss the grow th and developm ent of a pho to grapher’s w ork, their class values and aesthetics. This has been quite norm al for some tim e in areas o f study such as film and literacy criticism. In short, we need to be able to use the language of an Eisenstein, a Brecht or a Benjamin. Photography — Critical or Progressive7 We believe th a t it is possible to learn a great deal about a photographer’s views by lo o k ­ ing at th e ways in which they represent (both in pictures and text) activity at such critical junctures as the p o in t of production. The accom panying illustrations are offered as a starting point for discussing the differ­ ence betw een ways of representation as used in mass m edia, as used in naturalistic docu­ m entary photography, and as attem p ted by photographers w ho are trying to record o p ­ pression and struggle (often as an accom pan­ im ent to text) in a m ore critical or revealing w ay. It might be fruitful to swap captions or tex ts ab o u t, or add new m aterial. Similar fram ew orks could also be constructed to Letters A Response to Roger Mayne: There has been a correspondence in CAMERAWORK in th e last few issues b e ­ tw een Roger Mayne and several others in­ cluding myself. Because several substantive questions have arisen, especially centred around m y photographs and views, I feel I m ust reply. For the last five m onths I have been w orking on a w ritten essay which attem pts to investigate these and several other questions; thus, this le tte r can only be an encapsulation of the longer enquiry. What does th e broad and tolerant view of M ayne consist of? We are told th a t hum an­ kind is helpless and th a t only th e ignorant believe and act otherw ise. On th e other hand, th e enlightened, like M ayne, accept th eir helplessness in the face o f ‘unbending forces’ and attem p t to conform to and use th e p attern o f these forces. This view is com posed o f several facets including: 1) th a t intellectual activity is useless, 2) th a t th e outer w orld is n o t seen to affect inner life and 3) th a t the various intellectual and social actions of the unenlightened are futile and meaningless. I wish to briefly investigate and co u n ter­ pose these ideas because they are held by a large milieu o f which Mayne is only a more vocal m em ber. From my w ork I have w itnessed th a t still photographs in sequence can influence and affect deeply w orking class viewers. To do so the following m ust exist: th e individual photograph m ust be stylistically approacha­ ble in a realistic sense rather than dom inated by graphic effect; all o f the photographs in a sequence m ust com pose a closed w orld in w hich all th a t is necessary for a clear narra­ tive is present and all th a t is extraneous is deleted; the sequence begins in th e im m ed­ iate and typical experience of the viewer and proceeds to a greater experience; exhibitions and books, etc. produced in such a way should be inexpensive and accessible; th a t th e way to gain access to the mass o f people is to approach them through their own organizations such as trades unions and p oli­ tical parties and groups. The above can occur only if th e p h o to ­ grapher has an intellectual grasp o f the im ­ m ediate period such th a t she/he is capable of and com pelled to reflect th e m ost progres­ sive and dynam ic ideas o f the period in step w ith the needs of the people. T he p h o to ­ grapher, like the w riter, painter, journalist and intellectual m ust serve as the voice for those who have as y et n o t realized their own. Here is the difference which Mayne wishes an explanation o f betw een Brandt, Hardy and myself. B randt, in his p h o to ­ graphs about the depression in th e late nine­ look at the depiction of other crucial areas such as the role of w om en’s unpaid labour and rep roduction (family life), or racial m inorities. By being contextualized in this way the questions asked by Roger Mayne might answer themselves, thus avoiding en d ­ less subjective argum ents am ong people with varying philosophical starting points. It is pointless to com pare random pictures of d if­ ferent photographers. It is also im portant to rem em ber th at a p h o to g rap h er’s w ork goes through an evolution w hich is m arked by various periods, each quantatively different from the other. Once we as photographers becom e aware of the co ntradictory nature of m ost social and econom ic relationships th en we can ask the following o f our photographs o f working class people; do they indicate a struggling class or an apathetic one? Do they show unity or conflict betw een different classes? Do they show people as objects or as subjects? Do our pictures heighten the awareness of the w orking class’s own strength and value as a group? Do the p ic­ tures form p art o f a ‘narrative’ in which p re ­ viously unseen or unrecognized elem ents of w orking class experience are discernable (as opposed to the more universal ‘h u m an ’ ex ­ perience concen trated on by m ost p h o to ­ graphers)? Does a photograph falsely glam­ orise for ideological or econom ic reasons? Do we show a realistic image of our own class and the capitalist class? Most im p o rtan t o f all, it is n o t only w hat we th e makers of images th in k , b u t also how the message is received and acted upon by our audience. There will be differing class responses to m any ideas which are represented, and m ost especially to the type o f illustrations seen here. Finally, the ‘boring’ ‘religion of Marxism’ th a t Mayne w rites about (dialectical and his­ torical materialism) is in no way dull or m ys­ tical, b u t is the highest developm ent w ithin the fields o f philosophy and aesthetics. Its use will m ean the questioning o f all our assum ptions ab o u t the making and using of photographs. For photographers today who are interested in trying to help bring about social change it will m ean a struggle to expose and throw o ff the dom inant ideology and try to find m ore critical form s o f rep re­ sentation. (This may even m ean, in some instances, moving away from photography and into photom ontage and conceptual work.) For those w ho use this m ethod there is a coincidence o f form and co n ten t in their w ork; no separation betw een photography politics, or betw een theory and practice. It means positive action. Unlike Roger Mayne, we believe th a t th e w orld is know able and can b e changed, for th e b etter. (The above illustrations and additional m aterial will soon be available from H.M.P.W. for discussion as a slide show. E xtracts from the above article were in Screen E ducation 2 1 , P hotography, Ideology and E d u ca tio n , w hich also gave some p ra c ti­ cal approaches for educational projects. teen thirties, translated w orking class exper­ iences into a visual language which was d i­ gestible by the middle classes. His p h o to ­ graphs neither identified w ith nor aided in the struggle of the proletariat. His natural com passion and hum anist views led him to expressionately render his subjects as help ­ less and hopeless victims o f greater circum ­ stances. He revealed neither class nor indi­ vidual self-awareness in his subjects; personal rebellion and class m obilization w ent unseen. B randt’s photographs are m ore about his reaction to the facts th an about the m ultidim ensional reality itself. Hardy, for all his decent-m inded p h o to ­ stories and excellent individual photographs, reflected life in a piecemeal m anner. He was perhaps com pelled to do so by the n atu re of his occupation, b u t even a collection o f his photographs do no m ore th an m ake several general statem ents about life. As Mayne points o u t, Hardy him self declared his dis­ interest in politics and preferred to believe th a t he viewed life in a m anner uninform ed and unshaped b y the world around him. H ardy, like M ayne, denied intellectualism , preferring to believe th a t he was opinionless and thus did n o t stam p th e reality before his cam era w ith subjective choice. This denial is in itself an opinion w hich reveals acceptance o f the conditions one finds oneself in; it speaks o f u n th o u g h t o u t aquiescence to the status quo. I believe th a t history and contem porary experience reveal th a t people are capable of realizing th e concrete nature o f th eir lives, of com prehending it and reacting against it. What after all are revolutions ab o u t if n o t a mass o f people realizing at m ore or less the same m om ent th a t they m ust act drastically and w ith great personal risk to change the nature o f their lives through an act o f re­ volution? Thus I w ork to reveal th e possible in th e actual b y photographing subject m atter w hich em bodies th e contradictions I believe to exist and I attem p t to fashion these images in to a narrative w hich attem p ts to objectify and m ake visual the underlying poten tial. This is where th e artist and society and art and politics find a com m on unity. If M ayne is judging m y entire o u tp u t by the ‘illustrations’ in last au tu m n ’s CAMERAWORK interview , his objections have some relevance as the individual p h o to ­ graph is incapable o f expressing com plex ideas in to tal. Such m ust be left to the p h o to sequence. N onetheless, as shall be p o in ted o u t below , it is possible to extract and define some ideas from any one p h o to ­ graph and to use those ideas for oneself as well as to inductively analyse a fragm ent of th e p h o to g rap h er’s w orld view. U n fo rtu ­ nately M ayne does n o t pen etrate th e layers o f m eaning in m y w ork anym ore th an he does in his own. M ayne’s photographs, like those o f his milieu, suffer from unresolved co n ten t. In his “ N orth K ensington 1957” there is a com ­ pelling quality in th e distribution and d e­ m eanor of th e people p ictured. This p h o to ­ graph in isolation describes p o o r people in p o o r streets who nonetheless sustain some few pleasures in life as revealed by the group around th e bicycle. F urther it tells us th at th e photographer was aware o f b u t n o t necessarily involved w ith this strata of society. W hether Mayne realized it or n o t, he cited a condition m ore p ro fo u n d th an his preoccupation w ith tow n planning w ould indicate. He has revealed a m om entary affir­ m ation o f th e hum an spirit. These people, surrounded as they are by decay and pover­ ty , are nonetheless able to express love and atten tio n to each o th er (the group around th e bicycle). They have, in th e face o f social adversity, m aintained th eir hum anity. M ayne’s ow n co n ten t belies him . The image though is com prom ised by the inclusion of th e listless children. Because o f M ayne’s ina­ bility to clearly refract social experience he has recorded a scene in which tw o com plex and co ntradictory ideas exist to th e disad­ vantage o f b o th . T he image remains te n ta ­ tive and uncertain. In his “G arden Party 1956” his intellect­ ual uncertai
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Jan Clarke, Mike Goldwater, Ann Murphy, Sue Hobbs, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, Swanee Swanson, Paul Trevor, Wendy Wallace
      • author_writerTom Picton, Ray Rising, John Tyndall, Maurice Ludmer,
      • author_photographerMike Abrahams, Peter Marlow, Phil McCowen, Chris Schwarz, Chris Steele-Perkins, Homer Sykes, Paul Trevor, Ray Rising, Bill Orchard
      • author_designerDerek Boshier
      • author_intervieweePeter Marlow, Phil McCowen, Chris Schwarz, Chris Steele-Perkins, Homer Sykes, Paul Trevor, Ray Rising
      • author_organisationDaily Mail
      • tagsnational front march,mass media,newspapers,racism,battle of lewisham,national front,fascism,daily mail,church of england,police,tabloids,tabloid journalism,media bias,police treatment of photographers,police violence,protest photography,viva,sygma,chris steele-perkins,peter marlow,phil mccowen,chris schwarz,homer sykes,paul trevor,ray rising,photo agencies,socialist workers party
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 08
      • subtitleIssue 8: Lewisham: What are you taking pictures for?
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Tom Picton, Ray Rising, John Tyndall, Maurice Ludmer, Mike Abrahams, Peter Marlow © Peter Marlow/Magnum Photos, Phil McCowen, Chris Schwarz, Chris Steele-Perkins, Homer Sykes, Paul Trevor, Bill Orchard, Derek Boshier, Daily Mail
      • credits
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      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK Lewisham, London, UK
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      • origination_date1977
      • origination_year1977
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      • pdf_textThe National Front march, Lewisham, August 13, 1977. Chris Steele-Perkins LEWISHAM: What are you taking pictures for? No.8 Half Moon Photography Workshop '& / 40p New Cross Rd. Anti-racists block route of National Front. Paul Trevor LEWISHA ** AUGUST 13, 1977 Racialism is a threat to us all. It is based on ignorance, fear and hatred. We oppose racialism in any form. Parliament, in the name of the Race Relations Acts is supposed to be opposed to racialism. The Press, in the name of freedom and liberty, is supposed to be opposed to racialism. The National Front march at Lewisham, London, showed both these assumptions to be wrong. The media plays an important part in fighting or nurturing racialist ideas. Photography has a significant role; it can reinforce our attitudes or help to change them. In previous issues of Camerawork we have explored photography in terms of ideology but these examinations have been mostly theoretical. In this special issue our exploration is practical. On August 13, 1977, the National Front - proud of its racialism - attempted to march from New Cross to Lewisham, an area with many immigrants. Their march was halted in Lewisham High Street which was blocked by anti-racists. In this issue, we give evidence of what happened on that day, much of which has been ignored elsewhere. Many photographers helped us to produce this issue, freely giving many more photographs than we could use. They work for magazines ranging from Time and The Sunday Telegraph Magazine to Socialist Worker and Newsline. We also publish the speech made by John Tyndall, National Front Chairman, to his supporters at Lewisham. This speech, which was not reported fully in the National Press, reflects the racist reasoning of the National Front and shows why they have to be opposed. Ha]f Moon Photography Workshop This issue of CAMERAWORK, November, 1977, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. The people who worked on this issue were Ed Barber, Jan Clarke, Mike Goldwater, Ann Murphy, is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography Sue Hobbs, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, Swanee Swanson, Paul Trevor, Wendy and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photo- Wallace. graphy, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute we describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity would be glad to hear from you. Please make sure it reaches us as soon as possible. and power to control our own lives. (ISSN 0308 1676) *y Clifton Rise. Police attempt to clear anti-racists before NF March New Cross Rd. National Front lines broken by anti-racists. CAMERAWORK Chris Schwarz Achilles St. NF Steward waiting to set off. Peter Marlow Peter Marlow LEWISHAM New Cross Road. National Front supporters attack anti-racist demonstrator. Peter Marlow Clifton Rise. Anti-racist (L) fends off attack from NF supporters. Clifton Rise. Arrest. Peter Marlow Peter Marlow Achilles St. Arrest. Peter Marlow CAMERAWORK New Cross Rd. Police charge anti-racists, New Cross Rd. Arrest of anti-racist during NF march. Mike Abrahams Chris Steele-Perkins LEWISHAM New Cross Rd. NF march broken. — Lewisham High St. Phil McCowen rr - Mike Abrahams Chris Steele-Perkins Lewisham High St. Lewisham High St. Police charge anti-racists. Homer Sykes Phil McCowen « CAMERAWORK John Tyndall’s Vision ‘Fellow members, thank you all for coming here this afternoon. Thank you for your courage, your discipline, and, in nearly all cases, your excellent behaviour. I would like to second the vote of thanks that Martin Webster gave to our magnificent police. (Cheers). There’s very little in this country today to be proud of but one of the things that we can be proud of is our splendid police force. (Cheers) I’d like to thank those who came long distances to this meeting. I’m delighted to see the banner of our Edinburgh members who’ve come 400 miles. (Cheers) I understand that we have a small contingent that has crossed the sea from Northern Ireland. (Cheers) And I’d like to also welcome a small contingent from another organisation but a friendly one, the Fronte Nationale from France. (Cheers) It just shows that nationalism does not preclude friendship between nations. We believe that nationalists of the world can get along much better than internationalists. (Cheers) Now, I regret, as we all regret this afternoon, the inconvenience and the upset that has been caused to many ordinary people in Lewisham as a result of this week’s developments, and as a result of what has gone on today. Now, I think that most of you would agree who have read your newspapers this week, there has been a deliberate attempt by the gutter press (Cheers) to depict the National Front as some kind of threat to the ordinary, law-abiding folk of Lewisham. But in fact we are the people who have come here to protect the ordinary lawabiding British . . . (Cheers). For years and years the old folk of this Borough have been afraid to go out at night for fear of muggers (Cheers) and what has authority done about it? W’hat has the Government done about it? (Nothing, nothing. Fuck all) What has the Church done about it? (Nothing. Fuck all) They’re more interested in the welfare and in the rights of 24 or 25 Black muggers (Cheers) than they are in the rights of the native people of Lewisham to be able to walk the streets after dark. (Well said. Well said.) Now, there’s a man who’s got all the publicity over the past week. They call him the Bishop of Southwark. (H e’s an old woman. Nigger lover. Red scum) No, I find the Bishop of Southwark quite an extraordinary person. He makes a great deal of noise. He’s always getting publicity. He’s always in the Press. I haven’t heard a single word from the Bishop of Southwark in sympathy with the old ladies who are getting mugged . . . (Cheers) Look at what we’ve got in this country today. We’ve got crime on the increase. Immorality on the increase. Illegitimacy. Sodomy. Abortion. Obscenity everywhere. These are the places where the leaders of the Church should be stepping forward and doing something. (Cheers) And yet what has the Bishop of Southwark and all the other fellow Bishops being doing? Absolutely nothing. But the moment that we hear about racialism i.e. the Address by John Tyndall, Chairman of the National Front, to his supporters. Lewisham August 13th 1977. ‘I t is now the task o f National Socialism to replace this human wreckage with a new type o f man: the type proclaimed by A dolf Hitler in his memorable speech to the Hitler Youth at Nuremburg in the zenith days o f the Third Reich -flee t as a greyhound, tough as leather, and hard as Krupp steel.'’ John Tyndall, ‘National Socialist’ 1963. Fascism and the National Front The National Front has remained singularly dedicated throughout its ten year existence to carrying out the promise of Martin Webster, its national activities organiser, to: ‘kick our way into the headlines.’ They certainly carried out their promise at Lewisham when they selected a route that would take them through areas of high sensitivity. For months there had been friction between Black youth and police in the area, accusations of harrassment, and a campaign over the arrest of a number of Blacks. In addition, the Front made no bones over the fact that their march was racist. Such tactics are typical and have been used many times before. The trick is to make it appear that their opponents are violent and that they are peaceful demonstrators being denied their rights. What many people viewing the situation fail to understand is that the Front have carried out repeated acts of violence by their inflammatory statements and their very posters and banners echo this. The slogans they shout are, because of their crude and offensive racism, acts of violence to those at whom they are aimed. Fascism In recent months the question has been raised whether or not the Front is a fascist organisation or just a militant form of the Monday Club. Whilst it may well be the case that many people become attracted to the National Front for its xenophobia, racism, and opposition to the Common Market, they are, regardless of what they think, joining and supporting a fascist party. An article in the April, 1976 ‘Spearhead’ could have come straight from the pages of ‘Der Sturmer’, Julius Streicher’s racist journal. Called ‘The Reality of Race’ by Richard Verrall, it is complete with skull diagrams, depicting the Orang-Utan, the Negro, and the European, each one complete with measurements in order to ‘prove’ that the European is superior. ‘Spearhead’, June, 1977, proved no exception to the rule with an article that is brutally frank, though somewhat inconsiderate to those Front stalwarts desperately trying to prove their undying patriotism. This particular article by Thompson turns out to be a ‘we fought on the wrong side and Churchill was the real villain’ saga. Linked, of course, to the theory of the Internationa] Conspiracy of World Jewry with the Bolsheviks. Patriotism The following quote from the article shows the real ‘patriotism’ of the Front: ‘The speeches of Churchill in the early thirties are as remarkable as they are alarming. For already he is pointing to the dangers of a revived Germany even before Hitler became Chancellor. ‘. . . ruling circles in Britain, especially in the early thirties, looked upon Hitler as the saviour of Germany from Communism, if not indeed the whole world. ‘. . . you would think that Churchill would be the first in the pack for the new crusade against the Bolsheviks. Alas, such was not the case, for we must remember that Churchill’s career had been largely underwritten by the Zionists. He was the very voice of their aspirations. But the Nazi movement was not only anti-Zionist, it was also anti-Semitic. This cooled any ardour Mr. Churchill might have had for such a solution. ‘The French alone tried desperately to back peddle. This is why most of the French General Staff were pro-Nazi. The French are notoriously realistic.’ They have not come very far since Tyndall concluded an article on the ‘Principles of National Socialist Ideology’ in the journal ‘National Socialist’, 1963, with the following comment: ‘The pitiful heaps of physical degeneration which we see littering our streets today, particularly in the large cities, are the social heritage that democracy has handed down to us. It is now the task of National Socialism to replace this human wreckage with a new type of man: the type proclaimed by Adolf Hitler in his memorable speech to the Hitler Youth at Nuremburg in the zenith days of the Third Reich - fleet as a greyhound, tough as leather, and hard as Krupp steel.’ International links Another classic example of Front double talk is the great charade they went through in October, 1975, in order to supposedly proscribe the League of St George, a small but useful umbrella organisation with extensive international links specialising in bringing racist and fascist speakers to Britain and organising secret camps. Martin Webster denounced the League for its links with the Nazi organisation Column 88 and healthy instinct . . . I can only say ladies and gentlemen that when we win in this country, and win we will (Cheers) there are going to be some mighty changes - in the economy, in our political field, in foreign policy, in immigration and so on, there’s going to be a lot of changes. (Cheers) I’ll tell you where one of the biggest is going to come. There’s going to be a good sweep out of the Church. (Cheers, start tomorrow) And we’re going to send these political priests, the whole ragbag lot of them, off to Russia where they belong. (Cheers, send ’em back) We’ll put in their place Christian leaders who will do the job that they are paid to do - which is to look after the morality and the spiritual welfare and the cohesion of the British people. (Cheers) And not only that, who’ll look after particularly our old folk, who apart from not being able to go out on the streets at night are passing the winter, often without warmth, without fuel, many of them dying from cold, and if our Christian leaders want to do their Christian duty I say they should be concerned to go around and collect money for these people (Cheers) instead of going around collecting money for the Third World. (Cheers) The Third World and the black gangsters who are terrorising our kith and kin in South Africa and Rhodesia. No. (Send the Army there) Ladies and gentlemen, there’s going to be a mighty sweep out in this country and the biggest sweep out of all is going to be in the Church. Now as we said earlier, the speeches this afternoon have got to be short but I say this in conclusion. We regret the inconvenience that has been caused to many people in this Borough this afternoon. It was not of our making. We wanted to have a peaceful and orderly march in a pan of our capital city. A right which we will always defend. A right that we always. . . (Cheers) The fact that there has not been peace and order this afternoon, the fact that people have had to board up their windows and shut themselves in their homes, the fact that business men have had to close down their shops and lose money, these are all things which we enormously regret but this fact is due entirely to the red terrorists. And if this kind of thing happens again it will be due to the softness and the weakness of the authorities in not taking the necessary measures to put the . . . (Cheers) As we said before the police did a splendid job. They could have done an even better job had they been allowed to go in with tear gas, with rubber bullets, (Cheers) and the whole of the works of crowd control. And let me make this promise to the police, that when we get in the police are not going to go unarmed into these affrays. (Cheers) We will give the police all the necessary equipment, we’ll give them the money they deserve, we’ll give them the backing they deserve, and we’ll give them the authority to sort the Red mob out (Cheers) (Get the Reds. If they’re Red, shoot them dead.)’ threatened Front members with immediate expulsion if they were known to have membership. Despite that so called warning the majority of those attending League meetings at Kensington Library have been National Front members. The League international liaison officer is Owen Masters, the National Front parliamentary candidate for Gloucester. Certainly the question of how one defines the Front holds no problems for L. Gardner, press officer for the Warley N F. In a letter to ‘News Telephone,’ November 18,1976, he had this to say: ‘The Fascismo was a coalition or amalgam of nationalist parties in Italy to oppose socialism founded around March, 1922. The fascisti were supporters of Fascismo. In the context, we in the National Front accept that we are British neo-Fascists.’ Gardner is of course quite right. They are Fascists. An interesting fact about all the various organisations of the extreme Right that we regard as Fascists is their common background. All, without exception, have an allegiance to National Socialism. The major organisations are the National Front, British Movement, League of St George, and Column 88. Most of the leading personnel from all these organisations have a common root in the National Socialist movement of the early 1960’s which was led by Colin Jordan. Through a series of splits they have remained constant to their basic aims to build a mass movement under the leadership of dedicated National Socialists. To date the National Front is the nearest they have come to achieving these ambitions. Maurice Ludmer 4 LEWISHAM What the papers said n event like Lewisham is heavily mediated by the press. Its constituent bits are taken apart and re-assembled in a way that suits an existing ideology of brave police impartiality and right/left wing extremism. The National Sundays and Dailies reported that fifty policemen and one policewoman were injured. Both they and the police were anxious that these should be recorded. The real issue of racialism is virtually ignored. The overall impression given is that our brave policemen stopped extremists from the National Front and the Socialist Workers Party from attacking each other. There are hardly any pictures of violent policemen. When used they are softened by joke captions. There is only one picture of a policeman with a truncheon. Not one picture of an injured demonstrator appears, except that of an old woman sitting down in comical disarray, and she is wrongly captioned as an ‘innocent bystander’. Wives are shown in subordinate, supportive roles, holding the hands of their injured, policemen husbands. No impression is given of either the National Front march or the strength of the counter demonstrators. We are told that a quarter of London’s policemen were needed to control the ‘vicious’ mobs, but nowhere do we either see the mob or its visciousness. We are shown a very limited effect - a few injured policemen without any visible cause. Intentionally or not, this mediation has a clear political end. It denies totally the strength of the opposition to the National Front. By dealing only with the SWP, the press also hides the fact that thousands of other people - black and white - took part in the protests. No paper mentioned that they completely blocked Lewisham High Street. The forces of ‘law and order’ are shown as individual policemen, frequently injured. Only the pictures of them with shields show them as an organised body of men. But even then, they are shown as passive, crouching behind the shields, not using them aggressively, as they did in Lewisham High Street. No mention is made of the massive support behind the police; of the complicated communications that controlled their whole operation. For example, the police had four video cameras overlooking Achilles Street with a mixer sending pictures back to the A8 control room at New Scotland Yard. Only one picture of a police horse appears, although they were an important weapon in the police tactics. Usually they are kept in reserve; this time they were deliberately ridden into the demonstrators. Every effort is made to deny the mass political nature of the event. One of the few exceptions was Peter Marlow’s photograph on the front page of the Daily Mirror which showed a group of National Front supporters kicking and beating an anti-racist. (This picture was pinched by Spearhead - the National Front magazine, with the caption: ‘The boot goes in hard. An N F activist defends himself from red thugs as they attack the NF column . . . ) The Sunday Express has no doubts about Lewisham. ‘LO N D O N ’S SHAME: Riot shields out, 50 police hurt, 200 arrests,’ and the picture of PC Colin Trussler being carried off with his bloodied face. ‘For the first time in a British city outside Ulster,’ the Sunday Express begins, ‘police yesterday used thick plastic riot shields to protect themselves from missiles. They needed them. Lewisham High Street, in the south-east of London, was turned into a bloody battlefield, fought for by National Front marchers. Left-wing extremists, and hundreds of police . . . Not since the Grosvenor Square riots of the late 1960s has Britain seen such violence in the streets.’ The Sunday People is populist and direct. ‘Bobbies pay the price of freedom’ is headlined above two pictures. One shows a policeman, with bandaged eyes being guided by two ambulance men. The other shows a man’s face with a wound above his eye pouring blood. It can be identified as a policeman by his buttons and whistle chain. The captions: ‘BLINDED . . . a policeman wounded by an ammonia bomb is guided to safety,’ ‘BLOOD-STAINED . . . the face of a young constable.’ Under a headline: ‘111 are hurt in riot of hate’ the Sunday People write: ‘Rival factions were allowed to demonstrate in the name of freedom yesterday - and the police paid the price.“ Voice of the People’ also gets it say: ‘The march was permitted in the name of free speech. Bloody anarchy, more like.’ ‘Constable Phillip Betts, 29, in hospital with head injuries,’ says: “ Both sides were equally to blame.” ’ The Sunday Mirror wrings its readers hearts with a picture on the front page of a ‘Victim of hate’. An old lady, legs sprawled out, is helped A to her feet by two policemen. The caption: ‘She was just an innocent bystander, hit by a missile in riot-ravaged Lewisham yesterday.’ In fact the Sunday Mirror was wrong. The woman was taking part in the National Front march and fell over in the general scrum at the top of Pagnell Street. She later phoned the paper to object about being called an ‘innocent bystander’: she was proud that she marched with the NF. On pages 4 and 5 they repeat the old message of the popular press. ‘RIOT . . . POLICE COP IT AGAIN’ and there’s the picture of PC Colin Trussler again being carried off with blood streaming down his face. At the bottom of the page: ‘A touch of love for riot victim.’ ‘Distraught wife Geraldine Betts has a comforting hand for her husband . . . one of the police victims of the Lewisham violence.’ None of the Press interviewed a rank-and-file ‘extremist’. No attempt was made to find out why they demonstrate. n a leading article The Observer managed to get events in Lewisham and Northern Ireland completely wrong. ‘Lewisham yesterday sounded an alarming echo of Londonderry’ in October 1969. There is no precise parallel between the political situations in Ulster and London, of course, but they do have two factors in common: strong communal antagonism, and extremist political groups which are determined to exploit that antagonism for their own anti-democratic ends.’ The Sunday Times repeats the mythology of two extremist groups determined to clash. ‘There have been clashes as violent in recent years, especially in Northern Ireland, but it was a frightening and tragic sight to see on a London street one group of extremists, backed by an artillery of bottles, bricks, rocks, staves and tins, advance on their rivals with such vicious intentions,’ a statement which of course makes nonsense of the fact that the National Front were led into the middle of the anti-racists by mounted policemen. PC Colin Trussler, appears on page 3, bandaged with blood streaming down his face. The News of the World was more interested in ‘My love for a broke Greek organist by Miss Great Britain’ and ‘Runaway peer in his vice den’ than the battle of Lewisham. In an article called: ‘ “March of hate” mob besiege police station’ their reporter writes: ‘One of 70 St John Ambulance Brigade men in the thick of the casualty scene said: “We’re just dragging the bodies out one by one. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.” Several of Monday’s morning papers used Lewisham as a peg to forecast more violence at Ladywood in Birmingham. Under a picture of National Front supporters kicking and beating an opponent the Daily Mirror headline says: ‘Why the Union Jack ran red with blood.’ ‘It was the day the Union Jack,’ the Mirror tells its readers, ‘carried through Lewisham by the Right-wing “patriots” of the Front, became a blood-stained symbol of hate. Scores of people were hurt - fifty-five of them policemen - as rioters ran wild with blinding ammonia, knives and bottles.’ Every story implies that it was the SWP alone who opposed that National Front march and caused the violence. None of them will accept that it is itself a violent act to march through an immigrant community, to march through any community, mouthing racist slogans and carrying racist placards, mounted on conveniently stout poles so that they can be used as weapons when the poles have been broken. On page 5 the Mirror headline says: ‘The cost of doing his duty’ and the photograph shows PC Colin Trussler lying on the ground with a bandage on his head. ‘Down: With blood pouring from his head . . .’ the caption says. ‘And all that on £45 a week’ the subhead says next to a picture of Policeman Philip Betts recovering in hospital. nlike the demonstrators, the police are given personalities. ‘It should have been policeman Philip Betts’ day off. But instead he was at the Battle of Lewisham. The young constable was set on by thugs, thrown to the ground, and kicked in the head three times until he passed out. And he suffered all that for a take-home pay of just £45 a week.’ PC Bens is given a wife with a baby daughter and ‘home’ in Plaistow, but in the best tradition of popular journalism he bravely says:“ I was frightened in the battle, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. But it’s part of the job . . . and it has to be done.” ‘And all for just £45 a week.’ The Mirror forgets to say whether being kicked in the head would become more acceptable if it became more profitable. I U On page 7, labelled ‘the punch-ups’ the Mirror shows the ‘baddies’ being grabbed by the ‘good’ policemen. ‘How the demo boiled over in fury,’ the headline says. Four policemen are shown attacking one man, one of the policemen has grabbed his hair. The captions make it into a light-hearted frolic: ‘Nabbed,’ ‘Grabbed,’ ‘Bagged’, they say. * ... these were the scenes as the battle between the rule of law and the rule of the mob reached chilling new heights at the weekend.’ the page begins. ‘Once more, the police were the thin blue line trying to hold back the forces of hate.’ An 82-year-old woman is quoted:“ I have been through two world wars, but I have never been so frightened.” Nowhere on the page does the Mirror mention that this was a desperate and successful attempt to stop the National Front marching through the streets of Lewisham. The Guardian was the only paper to show a black face - other than someone being arrested; they show two black children carrying anti-NF posters. In a leading article they repeated the familiar equation of Right and Left extremists. Their leader headed: ‘A day that mocked democracy’, states: ‘The only victors in the violent political game played out in the streets of Lewisham on Saturday were the extremists of Right and Left.’ On page 4 and 5 of the Sun - page three obviously cannot be disturbed - a headline says: ‘I won’t ban the Front marches. Rees backs police chief McNee after battle of Lewisham. ’ A photograph shows ‘PC Burgess in hospital’ bravely smiling with a thumbs up. ‘Heroes in the middle’ the Sun calls them. “ We were the meat in the sandwich,” PC Anthony Burgess is quoted as saying. Again the National Front march and the fight against it is not put into a context. Violence becomes an abstraction, an unknowable peril that can only be halted by the ‘heroes in the m iddle.’ A simple political issue can easily be mystified and confused by such techniques. he Daily Mail excelled itself on Monday. Under a headline: ‘After the Battle of Lewisham, a question of vital importance NOW WHO W ILL DEFEND HIM?’ it crams in a whole litany of violent language (see Camerawork centre spread). An avuncular policeman, un-named, holds a club and knife. ‘The weaponry of hate: A studded club and a carving knife used against the police.’ The Daily Mail is also concerned about money although it does not mention the £45 pittance mentioned in the Mirror. ‘We must back our police. We have to support them. We have to pay these brave men what they’re w orth.’ ‘The nation must look to its defences,’ the Mail sternly demands, ‘And that means looking to the police,’ sentiments which are, of course, shared by John Tyndall. Lord Hailsham is brought in to support the Daily Mail case. ‘Look left, look right . . . at these arrogant thugs destroying our freedom,’ Lord Hailsham castigates over a picture showing him pointing a stern finger. Spread over the middle pages we find our old friends. ‘After the rioting at Lewisham . . . the story of the men in the middle who ended up hurt.’ ‘The shields of freedom’ spreads over two pictures. PC Christie lies in hospital, ‘his damaged eye covered,’ holding hands with his wife Geraldine. Again the police are given personalities and wives. Another picture show's a close-up of the police behind their riot shields, looking at PC Christie recovering in bed. ‘The riot shields come to England: police, their apprehension showing on their faces, wait for orders while facing a bombardment of missiles.’ Below them police hold dustbin lids to fend off missiles thrown at the National Front. ‘The pictures on this page make history,’ the Mail assures its readers, ‘sad and shaming history.’ ‘They mark the day when for the first time police in England were forced to carry riot shields for their own protection.’ ‘At the height of Saturday’s bloody confrontations 111 people, half of them police, were h u rt,’ the Telegraph tells its readers. ‘Bottles of caustic soda and ammonia were hurled at constables, and 214 people were arrested.’ Mr Whitelaw, Conservative deputy leader, is quoted as saying:“There seems to be a growing band of hooligans and disrupters who are becoming addicts of the punch-up and the street brawl. These people seem to get an extra pleasure out of hurting police officers.” In a leading article The Daily Telegraph compares Lewisham with Northern Ireland. Neatly distorting history, it says: ‘Northern Ireland, T when the agitation for “civil rights” began in 1968, shows the folly of allowing disorder to grow by degrees. By some sleight of logic, occasional excesses of the forces of law and order were held to render them illegitimate, while the regular violence and illegality of “civil rights” crowds were deemed to be evidence of the necessity of making concessions to them. Nemesis duly followed.’ Even the Telegraph must have struggled to rewrite history in such terms. n a second leader they talk about the law. ‘It is no argument to say that the N F is antidemocrat. For one thing, the law is silent on this; secondly, should we not then have to ban marches by the Socialist Workers Party, Communist Party and several sections of the Labour movement? Nor can native-born Englishmen properly be denied the right to march through a part of their capital city merely because it is settled by immigrants.’ Avuncular PC Alfred Franklin pops up again on the front page of The Daily Telegraph holding a carving knife and a ‘lead bar fitted with coach bolts - two of the weapons used by rioters in Lew'isham.’ Police Constable Alfred Franklin appears yet again on the front page of The Times, this time ‘displaying a piece of metal piping incorporating steel bolts, confiscated at Lewisham.’ In a leader headed ‘Spoiling for blood’, the Evening Standard makes its ideological points: ‘Where political factions turn to violence, democrats must turn to the police. And they, patiently, often heroically, must do their difficult job.’ The Daily Express makes no attempt to be ‘objective’. It repeats the old message of ‘Leftwing extremism’. ‘The police were on our side at Lewisham’, George Gale assures us, ‘fighting for us against those who wish to destroy our way of life and bring chaos to this country. They were also on our side at Grunwick’. The paper even has a good word for the National Front. ‘We have no time or sympathy for the Front’, Express Opinion tells its readers, ‘and there is not doubt that it is provocative. All the same, the Front does not go in for attacks on the police or on authority’. Its front page is almost identical to the Daily Mail. Again a large picture of ‘some of the chilling weapons of political extremism . . . They are the tools of Left-wing fanatics who claim they will use any means available in a war of attrition against the far-Right National Front’. Next to the picture - in huge letters ‘THUG LAW’. On its centre pages the Daily Express is the only paper to show police horses, as the background to a photograph of a man throwing a missile. ‘Police with new shields, protect riot victim’. PC David Allen, his eyes bandaged, is guided by ‘brave St John’s Ambulance men’. A large picture of a Black man being arrested dominates the page. His knife is circled. ‘Police grab a demonstrator - critics of tough tactics should look at the youth’s knife’. Reporter Richardson, already featured in the Sunday Express, his head cut with a missile, reappears: “ I must admit I was terrified.” P.C. Burgess sits up in hospital: “ I saw a mate being kicked, then I was attacked from behind.” P.C. Trussler, ‘blood-spattered’, is rushed across another page, ‘fighting for us against the destroyers’. ‘It seems that everyone, the police included, were surprised at the determination of the Socialist Workers Party to “ be provoked” on Saturday,’ thus neatly perpetuating the convenient myth that opposition to the National Front came only from a small and ultra-Left group - the SWP. Opposition to neo-Fascism is shown to be extremist. verall, the pictures, the captions, the headlines, and the stories, give an impression of energetic coverage by the Fleet Street Press. It is only when you begin to analyse what pictures actually appear or - even more important - what pictures do not appear, that you realise how inadequate the reports are. The misrepresentation would not appear so deliberate if other pictures were not available. It is difficult enough to photograph such a battle. But the many photographs in this issue of Camerawork make clear that missing pictures were available. Many of them were published overseas. Most of them were taken by photographers whose other pictures were used in the Nationals. Anyone seriously wanting to know what happened in Lewisham on August 13, 1977 would not find out by reading these papers. I O Tom Picton 10 CAMERAWORK What are you taking pictures for? When mounted police moved into clear the top of Clifton Rise before the National Front had tried to march from New Cross, one of the demonstrators shouted to a photographer: ‘What are you taking pictures for?’ It is a question worth answering. With persistence we could have asked every photographer who went to Lewisham that same question. We chose not to. We did not speak to any photographer employed by a National Daily, although several of the people we spoke to had their photographs published in the following days’ Fleet Street papers. We selected independent - mainly young - photographers because we thought their answers would also tell us something about what is happening to photography. Some of them work for French agencies. Others are putting together long term projects partly supported by foundation money. Others have already received Arts Council grants for very different work. One of them was on assignment for a Sunday supplement. Their answers revealed an unexpected political toughness. None of the photographers wanted to hide behind their cameras. They had all thought seriously about the issues that unleashed the fury onto the streets of New Cross and Lewisham. Conflict always asks unavoidable political questions. You have to be either for or against the National Front; racist or actively anti-racist. Photographers have had to come out from behind their view-finders. Like other people confronted by the rise of neo-Fascism, they are being politicised. seems to attract Fleet Street photographers whereas demonstrators being hurt don’t seem to attract that many. One thing’s for sure, you very rarely see demonstrators being hurt in the pages of a newspaper with some sort of feeling of sympathy for them. If you do get a picture of a demonstrator being hurt the thing that goes over with it is that he bloody well deserved it because he shouldn’t have been there and that the police are just trying to do their job. The police are always shown as the innocent keepers of calm. Mike Abrahams Why did you go to Lewisham? Well, I went along because I was very concerned about the National Front and what was actually going to happen there. I’ve started work on a set of pictures on racism, the growth of racism and the causes of it. I was also interested not only in what the NF was doing on the streets and in the counter demonstration but also in the role of the police. Did you feel you were there as part of the counter demonstration or did you feel separate? I felt as though I was there as a photographer. There’s a certain point of involvement. I just couldn’t bring myself to get too close to the National Front. I couldn’t bring myself to go down there and walk amongst them and photograph them, which I should have done. I just didn't want to be an w h e re near them. I felt horrified by the sight of them. One NF supporter actually threatened me. He wanted to know who I was for - whether I was for the National Front or against them. I said I was an independent member of the press and he said, “ You take any bloody pictures of the National Front and I’ll do you over.” Is the work on racism a personal project? It’s a project I really want to get involved in. I’m really just at the beginning and I haven’t found a writer I want to work with on the project. Until I’ve found a writer I can’t specifically identify what lines I’m going to follow. This was a very major event in what’s happening at the moment and I was anxious to be there and record what happened as a basis to starting the project. So 1 wasn’t there specifically working on the project though it was like the beginning of it. Did it give you guidelines? Yes, it worked as a catalyst - giving me aspects that I hadn’t thought about and that I can develop. Do you think Lewisham has changed things? That photographers will be less welcome because there were so many left-wing photographers there? I think that police are hostile to photographers anyway. Unless you’re a member of the rightwing press, the Fleet St press. I think it’s fair to say that the ‘left’ press are identifiable as the ‘left’ press just because of the way they look, and they are subject to slightly more harassment. Say the police have cordoned off one little area, if you’re the BBC you just walk through, if you’re anybody else of course you don’t. If you show a press pass which shows you’re a recognised member of the press, very often they still won’t let you through - even though they may let someone else through who shows exactly the same press pass. What was your idea to do a project on racism? How do you see it being used? I’m not sure. Hopefully the pictures will be used in a politically educative capacity. However, they were used I would want them to reach a very large audience. The pictures will be pan of a complete statement which I’m not in a position to make yet. I phoned Time Out because I was going and said would you be interested in using any and they said yes. Which they did, they used them which paid my day’s expenses. How were your pictures used? They were used in Time Out and in Manchester in a display - to do with the NF march that was planned for Manchester. I’m not exactly sure how they were used. Did you anticipate what happened at Lewisham? I knew there was going to be some area of conflict. I had no idea that it was going to be on the scale that it was. That was something that affected me a lot afterwards. When I photographed at Grunwicks last Monday I didn’t take a single photograph because I’d become accustomed to a level of street violence and action so that when I was there I wasn’t concentrating on the fact that it was a huge picket and I wasn’t looking for the information. I was waiting for the drama. Which I felt very badly about because I was actually supposed to take some pictures and didn’t. Do you feel that the media’s recording of the events at Lewisham was damaging to the Left? I felt that it was totally unjustified. I mean the acts of violence that took place I didn’t agree with. I was actually caught in the middle of a lot of them. It was very, very unpleasant. I certainly understood what was happening and felt there was too much publicity put on the rocks that were thrown and other things which happened. There wasn’t actually enough analysis of the whole problem. It was the symptoms of the problem which were discussed and not the causes. That really annoyed me. What actually happened toyou at Lewisham? I went straight to Clifton Rise when I arrived at about 1.00. I didn’t follow the ALCARAF march, I got there too late. I was hanging about Clifton Rise. The first thing that happened was the Defence Committee HQ of the Lewisham 20 Clifton Rise. Peter Marlow was raided and everybody arrested. I forget the exact details. It was a matter of waiting around. There were problems between the police and the counter demonstrators, just tensions at that moment. and the march were kept separate. Later it was almost like the police brought the National Front straight into the counter demonstrators which was a very provocative move. And the police were very aggressive towards the counter demonstrators. A t what point did the police bring their shields out? The police brought their shields out later in the afternoon when as far as I can remember the NF march was pretty well over. The march had pretty well gone through. The shields came out after some bricks were thrown at the police. Around the clocktower windows and buses were smashed. Once they’d got them out they felt they should do something with them so they ran up the streets and charged. It didn’t seem necessary. Did the police just dive into the crowd and grab people? At periods during the afternoon that obviously happened. It’s difficult to say definitely that that happened because you don’t know what someone had done and if there hadn’t been a reason. But it certainly looked that way and from people I’ve spoken to since, people were arrested for the most ludicrous reasons, and on no grounds whatsoever. Did you see a lot of violence? There were a lot of bricks and bottles flying. There was a lot of very, very aggressive behaviour by the police. There was violence because it was a very tense issue. It was a complex issue, it wasn’t just a matter of demonstrations, there were so many factors. Do you think that were was a specific attack on the police? I think that the police provoked a very specific attack by being extremely aggressive in the way they handled things. The ‘Lewisham against Racism’ march was peaceful because the NF Would you take a picture which would incriminate someone and might be used as evidence agains them? If you’re in a situation like this and you actually have a point of view that you’re working about obviously you’re biased in what you’re going to take. I think you work in one of a couple of ways, you’re either working on an idea and you’ve got a point you want to make and you follow that point or you’ve been commissioned by an editor who says, ‘I want this sort of picture’ and you go for that sort of picture. It’s quite clear that a lot of newspaper editors want pictures of police being hurt. Police being hurt Were you pleased with the way your pictures were used? They were OK pictures. I might have chosen other ones. Pictures aren’t used journalistically. Most of the time they’re used to fill up a bit of space on the page, they may set the scene or give some point of view. I don’t think they’re actually used to convey information. Do you feel the N F is a very real threat? Yes. Because the economic and employment climate at the minute is just right for something like that to grow. And unless people take a stand against it, it will just gain strength. Do you think your photographs help that stand? It depends how they’re used. Chris Steele-Perkins How did you get on at Lewisham? Well, I mean, in terms of treatment I only had a minor incident where I was man-handled by the police. I can’t say that I was subject to any attack by anybody. I got on O.K. Who were you taking pictures for? I was basically taking pictures as a freelance. I mean two things. 1 was partly doing it for ‘Exit’, the project we’re working on, and the other was freelance. LEWISHAM How were your pictures used? Well, I sent them over to ‘Viva’ and they were used in Paris Match, and something called Le Nouvel Observateur. Do you think they made good use of the pictures in Paris Match? I think so, yes. Not having read the article fully, you know, I’m not too sure what line they actually took on it. But they tied it in with violence in Northern Ireland? They had an IRA picture. It basically corresponded with feelings I had about what’s happening. What are they? They’re about the escalation and ritualisation of violence . . . It just seems to be part of a bigger thing - ritualised street violence. Did you stay with it all the time? Where did you start off? I was there about twelve o’clock, I think. I followed the march itself through to Lewisham. Then I followed the fighting down Lewisham High Street. Why did you go and take pictures? Well largely because of what I was saying. I think the phenomena of street violence in this country now is something of particular interest. It’s related to the ‘Exit’ project which is on the urban crisis. It’s tied in very much with that. And at the other level it’s a blatantly obvious news story. Were you pleased with your photographs? Did you get what you expected? I was reasonably pleased with it. One was basically photographing incidents. For me, it was one of the first times that I’ve attempted to cover that type of event. What one gets is a series of photographs. It’s very difficult to actually put over a point of view. Very difficult. One point of view I tried to put in the captions to ‘Viva’ is that I thought that police were picking on Blacks during the whole incident at either end, at New Cross and Lewisham, rather more frequently than they merited by their proportion there, by what they were doing. This was something that was happening. Maybe I photographed that slightly more than other things. There were a lot of photographs that I didn’t get that I saw. I saw for example Mike Abrahams getting punched in the face. I didn’t get a photograph of it. I wish I had, from his point of view. Who was he being punched in the face by? A cop, during a charge . . . I mean just from a practical point of view I learnt a lot about how to photograph that kind of event which I didn’t know before. Such as? Positioning. There seems to be obvious strategical positions that you take up when the police are charging around. If you haven’t sussed that our beforehand, thinking ahead, you tend to get swept in the run from the police which I think happened to me. I seemed to spend a lot of time running away, running away from them. I don’t think this would have happened if I’d planned where I was going to be. Things like the type of clothing one’s going to wear. See that you don’t have a lot of things hanging off you to get caught. Peter Marlow How did you get on at Lewisham? I had the usual sort of trouble you get from the police when you’re taking pictures and they’re hitting people, and trouble from the demonstrators. What were they objecting to, taking pictures? The police in England never seem to object to you taking pictures unless they’re really kicking hell out of somebody. I always find it quite amusing the way the two sides can tolerate each other in such close proximity. I mean it’s almost like a play, with the photographer as the audience. Apart from Grosvenor Square it was the first time in England that I’d seen rioting on such a major scale. There seemed to have been quite a major shift, which I personally found very scary. I’d come back from Belfast that morning after a week doing the streets during the Queen’s visit. On the Wednesday when the Provos marched down the Falls the army stopped them at the entrance to the city in Castle Street. They held up some sort of sign and over a hailer said, “ You are participating in an illegal demonstration, and if you don’t disperse we will take measures to move you” . At Lewisham the demonstrators were blocking the way for the Front and the police made a similar announce- ment: “ . . . We’re now going to drive horses through you if you don’t move” I can’t remember exactly the words but the two things just seemed so similar it really made me shudder associating the two. What happened? We presume you were in front of the horses when they came through. How do you operate as a photographer under those conditions? Well, I don’t think it’s very easy to say how you operate in that situation. Much of what you do is intuitive. I don’t think I get over excited, but there is so much happening at once and so much to look at . . . Purely technically I try to get a long shot to isolate particular action from the rest of the confusion, and then go in close on both sides. Depends on the situation. But if somebody’s throwing something, it’s probably better to be behind him with a 100mm lens, so you see where he’s throwing it and flick him out of focus a bit to make it more dramatic, or otherwise do a picture straight at him, get the expression on his face. I like to get as close as I can within reason, because I think there is much more drama if you can get close, see peoples’ expressions. There’s a sort of danger in that - if you start using 21mm you can get too much in the picture to make it very interesting. It takes quite a bit of discipline, just to hang back there and really think about what you’re doing. The idea is to try to have a picture which will explain to somebody what happened. I mean that’s very naive and simplistic, at Lewisham you needed to have a picture of the two sides in the confrontation. And that was quite difficult. It was easy to get the confrontation between Blacks and the police, and SWP and the police, but the two sides only got very close for a short time; for the photographer that was a critical moment. I agree with you. And who were you taking pictures for? I have a contract with Sygma, so inevitably I guess for them. But I also gave pictures to the Sunday Mirror and it was passed on to the Daily Mirror. And who processed your film? The Mirror. So they took what they wanted, and presumably you got the stuff back to ship to Paris ? Yes. As far as Sygma goes it was interesting because this thing had been building up for months and months. Would you have gone i f the Mirror didn’t assign you, one of these " if you’ve got something, we’d like to see them’’ situations? Definitely - because it’s something I’ve spent a lot of time doing, covering the NF. It was a toss up between Lewisham and the Apprentice Boys in Londonderry and I decided to come back. Where were your pictures used that you took of Lewisham? They were used - the Sunday Mirror took a couple of pictures, the Mirror front page on the Monday, I know Time used a picture and Paris Match used four pictures. As far as the other places go, I imagine Germany would have wanted a story, Italy and Spain would have been interested. To be specific is difficult as Sygma has distribution in about twenty countries. I just don’t know until two months later when I see a sales report. That’s when working for agencies really breaks down - you don’t have the direct contact with magazines, and you feel a bit castrated because of that - you’ve no idea how the stuffs being used. It can become very frustrating - if I send unprocessed film you can imagine it’s even worse - you don’t even see what you’re doing until later. Did you shoot in black and white, or colour also? Colour as well - not much, I was more interested in the black and white. But it’s always the same - you always say “ I wish I’d shot more colour” after you get it processed. I suppose it’s the immediacy of black and white, it’s turned over so fast once you’ve shot it. When you were photographing at Lewisham were you after single pictures, I mean Time used obviously the one picture, Paris Match used four pictures - are you after the one great picture? Definitely not - I think you have to go for a series of pictures which explain what was happening with something like Lewisham. There was a lot going on there. I never go on stories thinking I need to get just one picture, like UPI, go home after they’ve got it. I think it’s much better discipline to try to do more than that. Also magazines don’t just buy one picture, they buy the set. So the better the set is, the more chance the picture editor will want the pictures. As far as being in the business, I guess whatever you say I’m in the business. In working for an agency you really have to get a set of pictures, depending on the circumstances. Sygma never send a story out with less than 10 pix. For something like Lewisham I guess it 12 What are you taking pictures for? would be about 30. But when you say you've spent a lot of time photographing the N F , do you hope to eventually put a bigger set together or are you photographing them just because you think Well I was trying to - I did a story starting last year some time, on the phenomenon of the NF, and going into what Webster and Tyndall had been up to in the sixties and this sort of thing which a set was made of about 30 pictures and distributed by Sygma. And would you write for that as well? Yes I wrote a text for that. I always try to when its something important. I didn’t just do pictures of the N F , I tried to incorporate other aspects to give an idea of where this racial xenophobia comes from; dole queues, unemployment, bad housing . . . CAMERAWORK very dramatic; Nazis on the streets o f‘Londres’, which is not an approach I feel is very constructive. Obviously you can be manipulated, it’s happened to me before and will again, but I’m lucky in that the Paris office tends to select from the contacts roughly the same that I would have done. If you want good fast and efficient distribution you have to make some compromises. With my set on the N F I think it would have been quite hard to miss the message I had in mind. Do you want to go back and photograph the NF? I mean if your attitude is apparent in the magazines in publishing, and if the N F see that I would assume they’d be after you. Yes, that’s when it becomes a bit difficult because you know, I’ve got these very compromising pictures of John Tyndall. I suppose if these pictures were used I would have problems. I mean, they know me. I’ve got The Mail did in fa c tI think use somebody's pictures of it - but you’re saying that although you had the picture you wouldn’t release them. I don’t know, because I wasn’t tested. I would hope that I wouldn’t. To me, that’s when the politics start. So if you went along just to photograph whether in black and white or colour alone, you ’d just have the two cameras? Yes, I think I would. One of the problems of photojournalism is how do you deal with a situation photographically. By thinking about it and spending a long time working on it. It took me a long time to get inside the N F headquarters but I eventually did it. Really, the picture I wanted to get was John Tyndall at home with his mother. But as far as the organisation goes, I travelled to a lot of demonstrations all over the country, I did some photographs of one of their “cabinet” meetings in a hotel at Euston. Homer Sykes was also there, we sort of got it together, he was doing quite a similar thing to me, although his reasons for being there may have been different from mine. But I just went to a lot of demonstrations, photographed them, in different kinds of situations, photographed the people in the headquarters. At National directorate meetings, John Tyndall introduced them as, “ you’re looking at England’s future government.” And I did some pictures of John Tyndall by himself. I find him particularly obnoxious - he’s like a cardboard cut out, or a waxwork. It’s a pity I didn’t bring them along because I managed to get him fairly well, looking so awful. So like Napoleon, just so pleased with himself. You were talking about the frustration of sending undeveloped film not knowing whether your stuff is actually used. But you’ve obviously got a very clear idea o f the overall story on the N F. How much control would you like to have over the way magazines use your pictures? The way Paris Match or those kind of magazines would like to use it would be very emotionally. Have you started doing a story on SWP? It hadn’t occurred to me actually. I was more Incitement to Racial Hatred One o f the questions you’ve answered already but I ’ll ask it again - why were you taking pictures? I don’t know - obviously my sympathies lie with the anti-fascists - I’m quite aware of how I feel about it, what the N F is, but I think in that situation you’re . . . it’s an old question, the photographer on the outside and not getting involved. Superficially it may look like that, you’re just there with a bunch of cameras and I can quite understand how a demonstrator can see you just as a parasite. I take the attitude that these are my pictures, and you can think what you like. For me, I felt there was no conflict in photographing what happened, I’m convinced of that. With an event Like Lewisham peoples’ perception of it are conditioned totally by the pictures they see. They don’t remember what happened they remember the pictures. It’s what you take and how you use it that’s important. As an example; I had a picture of a black guy with a knife, I didn’t feel that it was representative, but one thing for sure, it would have gone down a treat with the Mail on the following Monday. That is the time when you are forced to think about it, that is the time when you join the demo if you like. Could you say something about the equipment you used? Well, for something like that, always four cameras. Two colour, two B/W, and a motor drive which I find really essential. I would use two if I had two. In this particular case for B/W I had a 24 and a 80-200 zoom, for colour a 28 and a 105. streets but what does it achieve? At Lewisham it achieved the dubious advantage of having a police force equipped with riot shields, the beginnings of a force along the lines of the French CRS, these things have a way of escalating. Anything which gives the police an excuse for extra powers of control must be counter productive in the end. Obviously there comes a point where you have to do something, but after seeing so often the kind of rejects, the failures, the losers, the political cripples who make up this small band of fascists, I don’t think they even deserve that kind of opposition. When you sweep them off the streets you do it in a way which avoids street battles with the police where the N F are perceived as the underdogs, too many people love underdogs. Illegal NF banner Tom Picton Incitement to racial hatred is a criminal offence. A person commits the offence if he publishes or distributes threatening, abusive, or insulting written matter, or uses such words at a public meeting or in a public place, provided that: (1) He does so with intent to stir up hatred against any section of the public in Great Britain distinguished by colour, race, or ethnic or national origins, and (2) The material or the words are likely to stir up hatred against a section of the public on the grounds of colour, race, or ethnic or national origins. Hence, an offence may be committed either because of the words used in a speech or because of placards displayed or leaflets distributed. However, the material must be published or distributed to the public at large before an offence is committed. A member of an organization who distributes racialist literature to other members of the same organization is not breaking the law. No prosecution may be brought without the consent of the Attorney General. Penalties range from £200 and/or 6 months’ imprisonment to 2 years and/or £1,000 fine. In practice, the law has failed to halt the continuous flow of racialist literature and speeches directed against the black community. Banners and speeches calling for repatriation of black people have been tolerated without prosecution. On the other hand the Act has been used on more than one occasion to imprison and fine black ‘militants’ who have complained of white oppression. It is also an offence to use threatening, abusive or insulting words or behaviour at any public place or meeting, which is likely or intended to provoke a breach of the peace (Public Order Act 1936 as amended by the Race Relations Act 1965). Civil Liberty: The NCCL Guide by Anna Coote and Lawrence G rant, Penguin Special 1972. to be sensible. As it happens I already do have problems photographing them any more, I really had a big bust up with Martin Webster quite a while ago, he got very violent, when I tried to do a picture of him reading Socialist Worker at this meeting, he just flipped out completely. interested in doing a story on the Communist Party, and their lack of support compared with France. One thing I was going to ask you - to a certain extent you were accepted by the N F , the extent of which you were let into their meetings . . . ? Well I was for a short time - now I’m not accepted whatsoever. How did you get on at Lewisham? I had no trouble. The police seemed to respect somebody with two cameras around their neck. They didn’t worry me. I didn’t take any pictures of anybody committing any offences so I didn’t get troubled by demonstrators. Sometimes I find that people will accept you if they think that the publicity that they will get out of it . . . did they accept you as a personal thing or did they accept you because you were working for an agency? Well the first time I met Tyndall he said “Well what fee were you thinking of?” It took me a couple of months to persuade them that there was to be no fee. I think part of the acceptance comes from the fact that they don’t see where the stuff is used. As it happens now, I’m personna non grata. Yes, I do think to an extent that any publicity for them is good publicity, it gives them reassurance. People get onto ego trips, don’t they? O h, Tyndall definitely. He walks around like the queen. Is there anything else you’d like to say about particularly Lewisham? Just that I felt that the attitude the SWP have taken is a very negative one. To me they seem real adventurists after a few cheap headlines, they have certainly found a good way of achieving that. I mean, okay, you have a punch up on the Phil McCowen Was that a conscious decision, or didn’t you see anybody committing any offences? No. I saw lots of people throwing stones at the police. I couldn’t take a picture that might be used in evidence against them. When you’re actually taking pictures, do you deliberately make the choice then? When you’re in the middle of something, is it not difficult to make such a choice? I try to point my camera at the police rather than at the people who are up against them. I try to take a demonstrator’s eye view of what the police are doing, or what’s happening. Rather than being an observer from the outside I see myself as a demonstrator. What if you see a policeman doing what is an offence? I’ll take his picture. Aren’t you then going to be thumped by the police? Well, that’s a risk you have to take. Yes, they do sometimes give you a hard time. The whole thing is, photographers are usually respected because nine out of ten they come from the bourgeois and the bourgeois press says what a marvellous job the police do. So in general, they leave photographers alone. Who were you taking pictures for? Principally Socialist Worker and Flame and a whole number of other publications that have used our work since. From Engineers Charter to Rank and File Teacher to some Left papers. We send pictures to ten Left papers abroad. So you got quite a wide usage, in fact? I saw the Socialist Worker the following week. Were most of them your pictures? Most of them. I think of 12 of them, nine of them were mine. What did you think of the way the pictures were used? They were used in a logical sequence which showed a sequence of events rather than show one particular photograph, except for the front page. Justice wasn’t done to the individual pictures by the size they were used. They were too small. But as a sequence of events it worked out very well. Why were
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Jan Clarke, Mike Goldwater, Sue Hobbs, Peter Marlow, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, George Solomonides, Paul Trevor, Wendy Wallace
      • author_writer Daniel Meadows, Don James, David Hurn, Wendy Wallace, Tom Picton, Richard Platt
      • author_photographerPeter Marlow, William Wise, Daniel Meadows, Philip Jones Griffiths, Don James, Richard Platt
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweeW. Eugene Smith, John R. Whiting, Wilson Hicks, Ian McIntosh, Elsie Richardson, William Stott, Cyril Richardson,
      • author_organisationMagnum
      • tagssquatting,housing,eviction,wandsworth,criminal trespass law,meat industry,pig farming,bacon-curing,farming,artist in residence,free photographic omnibus project,cotton industry,textile industry,community artist,the picture story,photo-magazines,life magazine,photo-journalism,objectivity,the troubles,northern irish conflict,ira,british army,propaganda,american press,war photography,workers,north sea oil rigs,pr,trade unions,black workers,photo-diary,boxing day,family,audience,memory,photography students,magnum,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 09
      • subtitleIssue 9: The Picture Story
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Daniel Meadows, Don James, David Hurn, Wendy Wallace, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Peter Marlow © Peter Marlow/Magnum Photos, William Wise, Philip Jones Griffiths, W. Eugene Smith, John R. Whiting, Wilson Hicks, Ian McIntosh, Elsie Richardson, William Stott, Cyril Richardson, Magnum
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1,2,3) Wandsworth, London, UK. Battersea, London, UK. Islington, London, UK. (pg 4,5,6) Pendle District, Lancashire, UK. (pg 7) Haiti. Montana, USA. Detroit, USA. (pg 9) War & Conflict, UK. Birmingham, UK. Bradford, UK (pg 12,13) North Sea
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      • origination_date1978
      • origination_year1978
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      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • status1
      • featured0
      • pdf_textPhilip Jones Griffiths/Magnum Off duty soldiers in ‘Silver City’ outpost, Andersonstown, Belfast. The Picture Story N o.9 Half Moon Photography Workshop 40p 1 ‘It might be my house next . . Photographs by William Wise Abercrombie Street Battersea in South London contains about twenty squatted properties, some of which have been occupied for four years. Local squatters began trying to negotiate with Wandsworth Council last August when renovation plans for the area began. “We’ve been talking for six months to prevent this situation and now its come down to this” , said one, the night before the eviction. Alderman Mike Williams, Chairman of Wandsworth Housing Department, told them during the week before the eviction that they could expect very little assistance under the Homeless Persons Act. When asked how people were expected to find alternative accommoda­ tion, he answered “ I don’t have to teach my grandmother how to suck eggs.” The squatters were asking for reasonable notice of eviction, and to be rehoused. Having lived as a group, they had always pressed for rehousing together. As one of them explained, “ I think people have the right to choose to live in a community. Here on this street, if you need something repaired - someone down the street knows how to do plumbing and you don’t. It’s a great communal feeling. The tenants here, the people next door, they’ve been living here for thirty years and they don’t know the people down the street.” Barricading started as a last resort when the three students living in number 78 were given a weeks notice to leave with no offer of rehousing. One of the delegation to the Council said “ After seeing such a blatant refusal and denial of people’s needs we decided we’d take a stand. It’s someone else’s house now, but it might be my house next. So we figured we’d take a stand at the first property they tried it on.” Heavy barricades made of wood and corrugated iron were built on the ground floor, and a ladder to the first floor window became the only means of entry. There were only a few remaining pieces of furniture. “They got their furniture out because they were afraid that the bailiffs would smash it up,” said a friend of the former inhabitants. The night before the eviction the squatters held a general meeting to decide what to do when the bailiffs arrived. There was a rumour that they might be coming at four in the morning, although one of the squatters said that bailiffs don’t get up that early. It was generally felt that the prospect of national publicity would pressurise Wandsworth into making an offer, setting a precedent for the rest of the street. “I think you should keep in mind what the level of confrontation is going to be tomorrow. People shouldn’t go round with the idea that there’s Morning of the eviction squatters confront police going to be hand-to-hand fighting with the bailiffs,” said one person at the meeting. It ended optimistically, having decided that although a Council official could be expected to appear with an offer in the morning, there should be enough people both on the pavement and in tfie house to resist the bailiffs just in case. At 8.15 in the morning uniformed police and leather gloved bailiffs began gathering in force at the end of the road. Council officials also arrived, but no offer was forthcoming. At 8.45 the police and bailiffs moved up to the house. Within minutes the bailiffs had smashed their way through the barricades, while the squatters poured water over them out of the window. Police kept the demonstrators on the pavement at bay, and clouds of dust issued from the house as the bailiffs made their entrance to the upstairs room through the wall rather than the barri­ caded door. Surprisingly, no one was injured. One squatter, Alan Beddoe, became the first person to be arrested under the Criminal Trespass Law. Having emptied the house, the bailiffs proceeded to make it uninhabitable. To shouts of “ Shame” and “Council vandals” they tore up floorboards and ripped out plumbing and elec­ tricity. The defeated squatters disbanded into other houses in the street, or went to Wandsworth Town Hall to protest about the arrest. The barricades failed to withstand the bailiffs, but the publicity arising out of the evic­ tion severely embarrassed Wandsworth Council. Although they refuse to commit them­ selves to any policy on rehousing, they have This issue of CAMERAWORK, March, 1978, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photo­ graphy and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photography, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our own lives. The people who worked on this issue were Ed Barber, Jan Clarke, Mike Goldwater, Sue Hobbs, Peter Marlow, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, George Solomonides, Paul Trevor, Wendy Wallace. Printed by Expression Printers Ltd, London N l. If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute we would be glad to hear from you. Please make sure it reaches us as soon as possible. (ISSN 0308 1676) 9 CAMERAWORK SEL >CFaNC( AGAINST ’ HE ASCIST5 m&m Bailiffs _ ___ _ t CAMERAWORK Bailiffs smash through barricaded window subsequently offered the squatters three houses. Two have been accepted. In both these cases, rehousing has been after eviction. Abercrombie Street squatters are continuing their campaign for full rehousing before eviction - not piece­ meal discretionary offers after the event. Alan Beddoe later appeared in court and pleaded guilty to obstructing an Officer of the Court, under Section Ten of the Criminal Trespass Law. While squatters and supporters of the Campaign Against The Criminal Trespass Law demonstrated outside the Court, he was fined £50 with a one months suspended prison sentence. He is still squatting. ontrary to the belief of the Sunday People, Womans Own, and other cham­ pions of our property rights and wrongs, squatting is not illegal. Nor was it invented in the 1960’s. It has a long and largely uncharted history. ‘Outbreaks’ of it have usually occurred as a direct response to prevailing social conditions for instance in the case of the Diggers, who squatted land in various parts of England when the ‘revolution’ of 1648 failed to make any difference to the lives of the poor. The current squatting ‘boom’ is the third this century. Its two earlier twentieth century mani­ festations emerged in response to resettlement problems after the two world wars. Soldiers returning from the first world war found that the promised homes ‘fit for heroes’ didn’t exist, and many began squatting. Then in the summer of 1945 a far larger squatting movement grew up after ex-servicemen returned to Britain to find themselves homeless. ‘Vigilante’ groups occupied holiday homes in coastal resorts, and this was followed by the mass occupation of abandoned army and air force camps. By the autumn there were an estimated 44,000 people squatting in England, Wales and Scotland. There are now an estimated 30,000 squatters in London, and probably 10,000 in other parts of the British Isles. A recent survey of squatters commissioned by the Department of the Environment comments “ In an economic and political context where resources to match the new housing demands are not forthcoming, squatters and squatting are likely to be present for some time to come” . The survey debunked some stereotypes over half the households in their sample included children, and over one fifth were aged over forty. They conclude that “What emerges is the near breakdown of the ‘waiting list’ concept under severe pressure, reinforced by a disbelief that, in the light of the visible existence of so much empty property, the families really needed to wait at all” . C Criminal Trespass he Criminal Trespass Law came into force on December 1, 1977. It creates five new criminal offences relating to trespass and makes jail or heavy fines the penalty for any form of occupation, work-in, squat or sit-in. In a time of massive unemployment and homelessness, when savage cuts in public spending are being felt, direct action is one of the last resorts of the victims of social and economic conditions. This law makes such direct action a criminal offence. Under the new law, building barricades such as those in Abercrombie Street is an offence, even if undefended. Bailiffs can now arrest people for obstruction, or for ‘passive resistance’ - just standing in their way and refusing to move. Police powers have been extended. An officer in uniform can arrest, without a warrant, any­ body suspected of committing any of the T offences covered by the Act. They can also break into any house, not just a squat, to search for, and arrest, anyone who they believe has committed an offence under the Act. This extends the rights the police already have under the Prevention of Terrorism Act and the Misuse of Drugs Act. The law provides for jail sentences of up to six months, and fines of up to £1,000. Even though Wandsworth Council stated publicly that they wanted nothing to do with the Act, it was used at the Abercrombie Street eviction. Technically, most of the people who were there could have been charged with ‘obstructing officers of the court’. In England and Wales the law is established by the way it is interpreted by magistrates and judges. Before a body of ‘case law’ is established the meaning of the Criminal Trespass Law will remain uncertain, although there is already evidence of increased harrassment of squatters. Wendy Wallace Alan Beddoe arrested, the first victim of the Criminal Trespass Law CAMERAWORK Home Bacon by Daniel Meadows During a two-year period as Artist in Residence to Pendle District, Lanca­ shire, Daniel Meadows came across a local farm where Cyril and Elsie Richardson, with their four daughters and son-in-law, farm sheep and dairy cattle, and they are one of the few remaining farms to cure their own bacon. Daniel produced a picture-story documenting the annual pig-killing and the subsequent bacon curing: the following text and photographs are part of this story. Cyril: ‘I buy the pigs about the middle of March eight weeks old, and we let them go out and run wild on t’ farm, around t’ stock yards all summer, ’till about the middle of September and then we tie them up, put them into t’ straw yard, give ’em plenty of straw, bed them up with straw and feed ’em them on nothing else but barley, so much water and sour milk that’s been saved up during the summer. And they fatten up just like mad because they’re so comfortable, they’ve everything they want and every comfort.’ Cyril is very affectionate towards his pigs and feels he is doing them a favour by making them into the best possible bacon. Cyril: ‘Now when it comes t’Saturday, pig­ killing day, we have a butcher (Everett) come and he has an assistant. The pig is lead across t’ yard to t’ pig-stool.’ Cyril: ‘There’s a bolt in the gun and when Everett fires the cartridge the bolt fires straight into the brain and stuns the pig. Humane killer.’ ‘We rope t’ pig on t’ stool and put t’ leg bands on. Everett sticks t’ pig. The pig’s heart is still CAMERAWORK beating so the blood is pumped out. I stand there with a bucket and me wooden spoon to catch the blood. You have to keep stirring it to stop it congealing. You have to be so careful with these flitches of bacon and hams that they don’t get bruised, otherwise they don’t cure. That pig ’ad weigh about 30 stone.’ Elsie: ‘We use the blood for making black pudding. I put it through a sieve to get any clots out, and then it’s ready to use.’ The pig is scalded and the hair and skin is scraped off. The eyes are removed, as they soon rot, then the head is cut off. The pig is then strung up ready to be split down the middle next day. The fat is removed, the spare rib taken out, the legs cut off and the ham taken off and shaped. On Monday the meat can be salted and left. Three weeks later bacon rolling can begin. Cyril: ‘Tony and Elsie wash the flitches with a hose in the sink while I take the shoulder-blade bone out.’ The bacon is rolled and then ‘we set it up on t’ edge and give it some hammer wi’ a mallet. It knocks it into shape and softens it at t’ same time. Each one of these flitches weighs between 60 and 70 pounds.’ The flitches are then tied, ready for hanging. It is a few weeks before the bacon is mature enough to eat and what is not to be used immediately has to be bagged to stop it going mouldy. A flitch averages £43 a piece. Cyril is immensely proud of his product: ‘This is bacon. I always argue that the stuff in t’ shops is not bacon because it’s made off pork pigs. It’s killed one day and within three to four days it’s on the counter. It’s killed, chopped up, a little bit o’ rib taken out, rolled - which takes no rollin’ - it’s only about 4Vi inches across in yer roll. Curin’? It’s innoculated with chemicals so it can’t go wrong. There’s no salt on it - it might be dropped in a bit o’ brine over night and it’s wet on the counter! If you can buy two pound o’ bacon in t’ shop out o’ Burnley anywhere - and you take it home to yer house, how long will it keep? Three to four days and it’s gone off.’ Cyril: ‘But this bacon, it’s off a bacon pig and a bacon pig wants to be between 10 and 12 months old to be a bacon pig. And also when it’s CAMERAWORK cured them rolls o’ bacon, they’re just as nice if they’re hung up there 18 months. But also they’ll stand there for fifteen years. Everybody used to be proud of their bacon pig hung up and they used to regard ’em as pictures. We used to call ’em pictures. Aye!’ A fter leaving Manchester College o f Art in 1973, Daniel Meadows spent two years louring Britain in a double decker bus converted to contain a studio, darkroom and living space. He photo­ graphed people wherever he stopped. Some o f the photographs were shown at the H a lf Moon Gallery in 1974 and were later published as a book ‘Living L ike This’. H e was appointed Artist in Residence to Pendle District, Lancs from 1975-77. In these two years in Nelson he photographed the cotton industry and some o f its allied trades. In January 1978 an exhibition o f Daniel’s photographs ‘Shuttles, Steam and Soot: A Cotton M ill in Lancashire’ was shown at the H a lf Moon Gallery and is now an H .M .P .W . Touring Show. Daniel is still living in Nelson and is working as a freelance photographer. E d Barber interviewed Darnel for Camerawork. What do you think of the Free Photographic Omnibus Project now? Really the whole thing was a P.R. exercise. I admit I made a lot of mistakes - there are people who thought the pictures were rubbish and I was worried myself about the quality of the work. I’d had no experience, I’d never worked for anybody, and I’d spent three years in a college that wasn’t very interested in photo­ journalism - but I’d found a formula that worked. I visited six or seven regions, gave an exhibition of at least 25 photographs in each of these areas, and when I was running the free studio I was printing photos and giving them to people the same or next day. I was working hard but at the same time it was a P.R. exercise; I was saying ‘Here I am, a young photographer, I’m desperate for work’. I fully admit I’ve learnt much more about taking pictures since. Now I’d much rather not have publicity or pictures published if I’m not happy with the work. Are you saying that in retrospect you’re not happy with the Bus Project? No, I’m very happy otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to start work freelancing because people wouldn’t have known about me, and I wouldn’t have got the job at Nelson. It’s only in the last couple of years I’ve actually started taking pictures I believe in. Then I was copying people’s styles, trying to produce acceptable results that people could consider for publica­ tion, but I knew all along that the strength of the whole thing was the project itself. I probably learnt more in those two years than at any stage up till then, because I was on my own and had to be completely self-motivated everyday. Coming back to the Nelson pictures, how did they evolve? The job was to photograph 800 old buildings to link with Architectural Heritage Year. In return I had time to do whatever I wanted to, but I had no idea at the time of what I wanted to do. So I went round and photographed the houses and within three months I knew the area better than most people who’d lived there all their lives. I began to realise more and more how heavy an influence the textile industry had on the area. I went into my first textile mill about six weeks after starting my job - it just blew my mind - it was like a horror documentary from the ’30’s. I just didn’t believe things like that were still going on - great noisy factories with little old ladies with their hair done up. I also realised that this was something that was on the way out - there are very few places left so I decided that was what I wanted to investigate as a project, but even then the only pictures were very, very weak. Well, in fact, I’m embarassed to think about it now. Martin Parr and I ran a course at the Aarvon Founda­ tion - Ted Hughes’ place that he left for the encouragement of the arts at Hebbenstall, near Hebden Bridge - and Philip Jones-Griffiths was the principal lecturer and we were also supposed to lecture and help - this was in 1975 and I had a Leica CL which kept going wrong and a Rolleiflex. I remember Philip taking me aside and saying - ‘you’ve got all the wrong gear, you haven’t a clue about taking pictures’, and I remember I could’ve kicked him in the teeth, but he was absolutely right. He said to go out and buy two Olympus O M ls and three lenses and seriously start taking pictures - don’t just be after the one picture all the time, which was what I needed - a kick in the arse from someone like him. I still have bad dreams about it. T hat’s what the last two years have done really. First of all I learned the subject. I put the camera away and went round mills investigating what was going on. I went to the textile training school to learn how to weave, and I read up the history. I did a lot of interviews - to begin with I had many more interviews than pictures factory managers, weavers, the lot - all the different trades that are involved in the mill. Then I began to take pictures, seriously building up from very simple pictures. Taking simple stories like the development of meemawing, the language weavers use in a mill where they talk by lip-reading and gesture because the noise is so loud they can’t make themselves heard. Would you say then that the essential difference between this newer work and the work you did on the Bus Project is your involvement with the subject? Yeah, I think that’s what photo-journalism should be about now, the involvement of the photographer with the subject. There’s a hell of a lot that hasn’t been photographed. But in a way all the stories that anyone is ever going to consider selling or writing or using in maga­ zines have been done - we’ve seen mental hospitals, funeral directors, factories, seacoalers - we’ve seen violence, poverty, war you know, it’s all been done in a certain way. Very largely we owe the present structure of photo-journalism to the Magnum men who got the rights fees for photographers, the copyright rules and everything sorted out. But I feel that this is a past era now; Magnum don’t have men in the hot spots anymore - picture magazines aren’t using those kind of pictures any more. I think photographers are going to have to be involved with the subjects, and that’s what I’ve been doing for two years - being really involved with the people concerned and not pushing for pictures all the time. It sounds as if you’re much more critical this time round than you were of your earlier work. Oh yeah. Now I’ve been shooting much more stuff, mainly shooting around the subject, shooting all aspects of it. I was reshooting a lot of stuff early on. If the project had been longer I’d have reshot a lot of the weaving pictures, but not because I’m dissatisfied. I feel that they all stand as individual pictures compositionally, but the composition of them is all very similar and I’d like to do that mee-mawing story again, using different compositions/lenses/distance from the subject to emphasise the size of the mill and the distance over which people can communicate. I think there is a progression in your work from the weaving through to the final picture stories. Well, the final picture stories I did were the funeral director and the pig-killing - I think these are the two best sets of pictures. They are more self-contained aren’t they? Yes they are. I think that both these stories survive as stories and not as individual pictures. Each picture complements the next and gives you more information, and again they are each whittled down from many more pictures. They’re also edited not only by me but by the subject - they’ve all been through the pictures with me, editing them themselves and throwing out pictures they didn’t like. How do you see your role, having been Artist in Residence. Would you describe yourself as a community photographer? No, no! Why not? Because I’ve had a very small impact on the community. I’ve probably had less influence than the postman or the butcher - they are members of the community. I’m an outsider who’s come in, who’s looking at things. No, I’m very cynical about the whole community arts thing. I think a community artist is a weird concept altogether. As far as I’m concerned I’m just a photographer who takes pictures, who’s trying to make a bit of difference in the world by taking pictures of things which I feel strongly about and doing justice to my subjects. Do you feel part of the community now? I feel you can take living off grants and doing community projects, etc. to a certain stage, after that you can’t go any further, and that’s the point I’ve reached. I feel that now I’ve got to build myself a reputation as a photo-journalist, and then alter magazine editors’ ideas on the kind of stories that are worth doing. In other words, stories of involvement as opposed to stories where you just come and go in a day. You’ve got to alter it from within, they’ve got to respect you as a photographer. There are very few people. I’m sure, who respect my work yet. Don’t think for a minute I’m running down my freelance work, because it really tightens the bands on you. If you have a few hours to do a job in, you’ve got to get a picture - it has to be a good pic - it has to tell the story. Even when you’re involved with the subject there still comes a point when you have to take the pic, at the exact moment when what you want is happening. It’s brilliant practice this type of freelancing. Do you think that that sort of tight brief has been beneficial to your development as a photographer? At the moment, yes. Also it’s the only alterna­ tive that I have open to me in that I’m trying to get other people to give me things to do. I want to use that discipline, and now I’m trying to sell the ideas of stories to mags where I should be able to be involved - where it won’t cost them anymore money than if I wasn’t involved. I’ve got to be a good businessman but at the same time I’ve got to try and build, to take the style I’ve learnt in the last couple of years doing the textile story, and transpose it into a commercial situation. I see that as the next really big challenge. What’s been the follow-up to your being Artistin-Residence - do you still keep in contact with the people you photographed? Yes indeed - the six or seven I got to know really well by photographing them, I see them all the time, they’re friends. I’ve learnt a lot from the people concerned. Just imagine spending 25 years as a flue-cleaner crawling around in fluedust. When you start talking to people like that you begin to realise all sorts of things about how people construct their day’s work. You realise the enormous difficulties people go through in order to lead a normal life. Next to people like Charlie the flue-cleaner, Peter the steeplejack, Cyril the farmer, Stanley the steam-engineer, I feel very humbled. I come from quite an upper middle-class background, but I’m not messing with the workers. I was doing that when I was on the bus and they were largely all working class subjects. But now I’m photographing across the class structure. I feel very strongly about the class structure in this country - 1 think it’s the breeding ground for all types of intolerance that are unnecessary. I hope that if there is one thing that my pictures will be doing positively in the next few years, it is to teach one sector of the community respect for the life­ style of another sector of the community and in the meantime I learn myself. I’m not putting myself on a pedestal, saying I can teach you this. I’m merely saying A, B & C horrify me and I want to find out about them. That’s why being a photo-journalist is the only way for me to live, because I have a passport to seeing all sorts of things. CAMERAWORK 8 We would like to apologise to Chris Steele-Perkins and Chris Schwarz for attributing the cover picture o f Camerawork 8 to Chris Schwarz instead o f Chris Steele-Perkins. We would like to apologise to Homer Sykes for not crediting him for the picture on page six. Lecture by John Berger John Berger will be lecturing on ‘IMAGE AND TEX T (THEIR POLITICAL USE)’ at the Nottingham Playhouse at 2 p.m. on Sunday 9th April. The lecture will be accompanied by an exhibi­ tion by Jean Mohr of unpublished photographs taken in the Third World over the last twenty years. This exhibition will subsequently be shown at the Midland Group Gallery from 11th April to 6th May. Further info from: Pat Silburn, Nottingham Playhouse. Tel: 0602 44361 or Terry Morden, Midland Group. Tel: 0602 582637. 4 CAMERAWORK The history of the picture story has not yet been written. Although as significant an invention as the sonnet, it has so far been ignored. For less than fifty years it dominated an empire of magazines. Like dinosaurs they grew huge and ungainly, collapsing under their own obesity. There is no theory of the picture story like the many theories of film. No group has invented new forms like the wave in French cinema created by the critics around Cahiers du Cinema. As well as a technical device, the picture story was a social and cultural invention. It was a by­ product of the industrialisation of the Press. Group journalism divided the jobs of photographer, writer and editor. Picture stories were manufactured like baked beans or any other commodity. Big magazines became triumphs of organisation rather than imagina­ tion. Life looked at 7,000 pictures a week to produce an average issue with 200 photographs. The division of labour between photo­ grapher, writer and editor had the same advan­ tages as in other manufacturing industries. The photographer could be taking new pictures while their last story was being processed. Photography, writing, editing could be carried out at the same time on different stories. Productivity, and profit, was increased. hotographers were told they could not edit their own pictures or write their own captions. They were too involved to select their own pictures. (No one told Wordsworth he was too fond of daffodils to write an unbiased sonnet.) Photographers were considered illiterate. The most memorable stories showed this to be wrong. W. Eugene Smith insisted on laying out his own pictures. Robert Frank’s The Americans was all his own work. Philip Jones Griffiths wrote words and captions and designed Vietnam Inc. Daniel Meadows, and other young photo­ graphers, produce their own books. Again and again photographers have shown that they can do it better than expensive teams of editors, writers and researchers. One ‘biased’ person can say more than any group of journalists producing gruel. War photography is powerful because the photographer escapes manipulation. No editor ten thousand miles away could tell the photographer what to do on the battlefield. The picture story was born with radical pre­ tensions. Although pictures had already been taken of ‘the common people,’ it was still daring of Life to open its first issue with a story on 10,000 relief workers building the Fort Peck Dam in Montana. They even put a picture of the dam on the cover. The pictures by Margaret Bourke-White were better than the words. ‘The frontier has returned to the country,’ the story said. ‘But not with cows. In the shanty towns which have grown up around the great U.S. work-relief project at Fort Peck, Montana, there are neither long-horns nor lariats . . . The saloons are as wide open as the Old Bull’s Head at Abilene. The drinks are as raw as they ever were at Uncle Ben Dowell’s. If the hombres aren’t as tough as Billy the Kid they are tough enough - particularly on pay da y. . . These taxidancers with the chuffed and dusty shoes lope around with their fares . . . If she can hold sixty beers she makes three dollars - and frequently she does.’ Fortunately we remember the pictures and forget the words. They show a compassion that is not denied by the vulgarity of the text. It was typical of group journalism that a report on a New Deal project was distorted into a laboured parody of the ‘Old West.’ It was still brave of Life to run this story when many of its advertisers probably thought workrelief was the first step to having the Red Army march down Wall Street. Any history of the picture story would have to show how the photographer, traditionally a vagabond, was domesticated. How they were tamed by wealth and cables from head office. How the deadline changed magazine photography. How the picture story reflected the class structure within the magazine. The writer could be controlled. They worked in the office and knew how to behave. Although some drank too much, they could work without the comic and necessary antics of the photo­ grapher. Most wanted to be editors. Even so, group journalism fragmented their tasks into researcher, reporter and writer. The mass distribution of the picture story required other inventions. William Stott points out in Documentary Expression and Thirties America: ‘Life was the result of a triple break­ through in print technology, the simultaneous development of faster drying inks, a “machine coated” paper that was thin and cheap, and the “ heatset printing” process which used P extremely high temperature to scorch ink dry as it was applied to the page. ‘How best to “fire dry” ink was such an important secret that the press on which R. R. Donnelley, Life’s printer, perfected the tech­ nique was guarded by company police until the first issue of the magazine appeared.’ ny historian would ask questions about the effect of the picture-story. The Depression, both in Britain and America, broke up families and communities, forcing them to move around the country looking for work and relief. Life created a ‘phantom’ community with its stories of relief workers in Montana and Okies in California. Picture Post, with its pictures of the unemployed, showed that some people cared. Was such ‘concern’ counter-revolutionary? The big magazines were also full of ‘success’ stories. They preserved the illusion that with talent and a little luck you could still ‘make it.’ People in hovels covered the cracks with pictures of film stars and automobiles cut from the pages of Life. Are W. Eugene Smith’s great pictures of a ‘Spanish Village’ reactionary, a hymn of praise to Fascist Spain, to ‘ancient poverty and faith’? These are not easy questions to ask, harder to answer. The magazines, when not right wing, were liberal and social democratic. They suggested that action was possible well short of the destruction of existing society. Picture Post, for example, promised reform not revolution. Their stories gave order to the economic chaos of the Depression. A picture story imposes meaning even onto the meaningless. An ordered narrative of the most horrific event satisfies because it shows us that we can cope with our worst fears; it becomes a small triumph. The historian of the picture story would examine how its virtues led to its decline. The picture story needed to be simple: it frequently was trivial. It needed to be symbolic and concise: it used cliches, unwilling to invent its own iconography. It repeated existing stereo­ types. Editors became arrogant and thought their readers ignorant. It needed to identify: it talked about Einstein rather than relativity, ‘good works’ in the jungle but not Albert Schweitzer’s autocratic paterna­ lism. It needed conflict: it sunk into voyeurism. It filled the world with vague threats of violence. It was interested in people: it created celebrities. Stories fitted accepted patterns. Women were beautiful, politicians statesmanlike, mothers loving, teachers and nurses dedicated, policemen and soldiers brave and exhausted. The picture story, which could provide a catharsis, was made safe. Magazines became grey and predictable. The historian could compare their history with the rise and fall of the radical press in the 19th century. Techniques developed by broadsheets and newspapers like Northern Star and Poor Man’s Guardian were taken over by Northcliffe and his Daily Mail. As William Stott shows a huge documentary movement grew throughout the 1930’s. Was this also captured by the mega-magazines? The picture story is inescapably part of politics. At the height of the black revolt in the United States when the ghettoes of Detroit and other cities were burning, Art Kane did a photo A essay for Look. (A photo essay is a more pretentious version of the picture story.) He shot studio pictures of a bayoneted dove and a dead rat. The graphic mafia was ecstatic. They were spreads that win prizes from other art directors. The photographs were as well lit as an Irving Penn still life. They would have graced the pages of Harper’s Bazaar or Vogue. It was a graphic triumph that poverty and desperation could be shown in such slick images. (Part of the reason for this escapism was that white photographers - and almost all photographers were, and are, white - could not work on the streets. Apart from pictures of the National Guard almost all the pictures from Detroit were snatched from car windows.) agazines died from entropy. There were many pressures to be inoffensive. Even without bias, and most maga­ zines were right wing because of their financial structure, they selected ‘safe’ subjects. The prosperous - who could afford the products advertised in their pages were conservative. They want to hold on to what they have got. As food and cosmetic ads fled to television, the commodities advertised in magazines became more expensive. Any radical magazine starts with the financial disadvantage that nobody wants to sell anything to its readers. The decline of the picture story is encap­ sulated between Henri Cartier-Bresson’s pictures of George Vi’s Coronation and Life’s coverage of Churchill’s funeral. For the big magazines, covering the great ceremonies of State was too easy. Photograph­ ing Churchill’s funeral was a problem in logistics, not imagination. Elaborate organisa­ tion was necessary to meet the deadline. Despatch riders carried film to helicopters, which flew to a specially chartered jet fitted out with a colour darkroom. Hundreds of rolls of colour film were developed and edited over the Atlantic. A Third Gold Stick in Waiting, or such regal luminary, was taken along for the trip to identify the congregation. Outlandish equipment was used. Expensive photographers employed. Even so, none of the pictures compared with Henri Cartier-Bresson’s modest triumph in Trafalgar Square; his photograph of the old woman on the bus conductor’s shoulders; the man sleeping among the news­ papers at the base of Nelson’s Column. Towards the end, the historian would record, the big magazines were pointed in the wrong direction. Almost all the great picture stories, and there were many in those 50 years, were the result of close empathy between photographer and subject. The photographer, however briefly, became part of that community, whether jungle hospital, infantry platoon, helicopter crew, Japanese industrial town, favela in Rio de Janiero, or back streets of Elephant and Castle. At its worst, it was a confidence trick. Many poor people were persuaded that photography would improve their lot. At its best, it was a miracle. For a little time the photographer could share the same skin. For the photographer, this schizophrenia was the excitement of the picture story. It gave the great picture an intimacy not possible in words. Word journalists suspected such participa­ tion. They claimed ‘objectivity’. Because words are the language of commitment, they were M afraid of political contamination. In this issue of Camerawork we show several variations of the picture story. Philip Jones Griffiths’ pictures of Northern Ireland are in the classic tradition of reportage. Daniel Meadows lives among the people he photographs. Bill Wise’s pictures of squatters are part of a community project. Don James works on an oil rig. Richard Platt shows his own family. The picture story was invented more than half a century ago. No one yet knows what will take its place. ew inventions can close the gap between journalist and subject. The small tape recorder ends the need to mediate the words. The photographer in the community with more time and greater commitment - like Daniel Meadows - does what only the eccentric photojournalist attempted in the past. The tape recorder makes possible the democracy of the word. Centerprise and other oral history groups are helping to end the cultural monopoly of the professional writer. The automatic still camera can end the cultural monopoly of the professional photographer. These tools will create a new aesthetic. We will have to reconsider what we mean by a bad or amateurish photograph. Existing photographers and writers may become more obscure, more skilled, in a final fight against this popularisation. Community photography could be a genuine people’s photography. The cameras and tape recorders are available. They need only be taken into the factories, schools, hospitals, and other places by people who are already there. N Tom Picton Words and Pictures by Wilson Hicks. Harper & Brothers, New York. 1952. M odem Photojournalism by Tim Gidal. Collier Books, New York. 1973. Photography is a Language by John R. Whiting. Ziff-Davis Publishing Company. Chicago & New York. 1946. Successful Freelance Photojournalism by Ian McIntosh. Fountain Press, London. 1963. Camera Journalism: Reporting with Photographs by A. E. Wooley. A. S. Barnes & Co., Inc., New York and Thomas Yoseloff Ltd, London. 1966. Images for Millions: One hundred years of news photos and photoreportage by Rune Hassner. Malmo Konsthall, Malmo. 1977. Photographers on Photography edited by Nathan Lyons. Prentice-Hall Inc., Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. 1966. Documentary Expression and Thirties America by William Stott. Oxford University Press, New York. 1973. Photojournalism by Editors of Time-Life Books. Life Library of Photography, Time Inc., New York. 1971. Photojournalism: Pictures for Magazines and Newspapers by Arthur Rothstein. Chilton Book Company. 1970. Freelance Magazine Photography by Lou Jacobs. Amphoto, New York. 1965. 35mm Photography by Jacob Deschin. A. S. Barnes & Company, New York and Thomas Yoseloff Ltd, London. 1959. Photography within the Humanities edited by Eugenia Parry Janis and Wendy MacNeil. Addison House Publishers, Danbury, New Hampshire. 1977. The Americans by Robert Frank. Robert Delpire, Paris. 1958. And Grove Press, New York, 1959. Vietnam Inc. by Philip Jones Griffiths. Collier MacMillan. 1972. M inimata by W. Eugene and Aileen Smith. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, New York. 1972. T he Photography Catalog edited by Norman Snyder. Harper & Row, New York & London. 1976. 9 CAMERAWORK British troops on Irish streets Photographs by Philip Jones Griffiths Philip Jones Griffiths took these pictures in Northern Ireland for Life. It was the first time he had been there since the present ‘emergency’ started in 1968. He wandered around for a few days, using his eyes, juxta­ posing the combat-clad soldiers with the normality of the shoppers and other passers by. They are street pictures. They do not pretend to be a definitive political thesis on what is happening in Northern Ireland, but the photographer’s clear eye can often tell you more than the circumlocutions of the political correspondent. Working for Life, or any of the well-known American magazines or news­ papers, was a help, because people like the IRA trusted the American Press. Unfor­ tunately, we are accustomed to pictures of British troops on Irish streets. The pictures become more frightening if you think of them being taken in Birmingham or Bradford. Life hired Philip Jones Griffiths because they liked his work. Even so, they only used one or two pictures from his extensive take. It is difficult to work as a photo-journalist in Northern Ireland. The British military (the ‘army’ is always the IRA in local usage) is suspicious. Officers are trained to present a smooth, intelligent, acceptable image. They well know that a picture of a soldier hitting someone with a baton can dent not only a skull but Whitehall’s carefully nurtured fantasy of ‘peace-keeper’. After Philip Jones Griffiths photographed the boy standing on the rifle (top left page 11) his camera was opened and the film partly fogged. The battle in Northern Ireland is one of intelligence and psycho­ logical warfare. This two pronged offensive is ably assisted by making the conflict in Northern Ireland ‘boring’. The best weapon in any propaganda campaign is not biased information, but ignorance. No one gets excited about some­ thing that they do not know is happening. For many reasons, with a few notable exceptions, Northern Ireland has been very badly reported in the British Press. Philip Jones Griffiths has said: ‘There are no great issues which are treated seriously by picture journalism today. The whole idea is to trivialise everything, to make it as colourful as possible in order to get the advertising.’ ‘I remember a picture editor who said: “ Look can you go and photograph this guy, we need it for this bit of the page”, and I would say: “O.K! What are we saying about him?” and they would say: “Don’t argue. Just go and take a picture of him.” ’ ‘I would say: “No. Is he a good guy or a bad guy? Are we screwing him?” They would say: “We just want a picture of him.” I’d reply: “You can get that from AP or from some picture library. I’m going there because I want to say something about the guy. I want to contribute.” That has been my approach.’ 10 CAMERAWORK CAMERAWORK 11 12 CAMERAWORK Exhausted oilmen and stewards return to Aberdeen by helicopter Inside Offshore Photographs by Don James Don James, a freelance photographer, spent 18 months working on North Sea oil rigs and production platforms north west of Aberdeen. He attempted to get behind the public relations image propagated by the oil industry by living as an oil-man, sharing in the experiences, working conditions and dangers of life on the rigs. Photographing the offshore oil industry presents many problems. Light conditions change rapidly; electronic flash in gas-laden atmospheres could be explosive; in winter, usable light is only available for three or four hours a day in fine weather. More restrictive is the oil companies’ attitude to freelance photography. It is generally hostile. Oil companies control their own publicity and company photographers return all their exposed negatives to the company, who decides what prints will be made for public consumption. The result is the typical public relations image of the distant photograph of an oil rig (preferably not burning off gas so as to dis­ please the environmentalists) and men wrestling with lengths of drill pipe. The oil company gives several reasons for this attitude. The reddest herring is “ fear of indus­ trial espionage” ; secondly is “ fear of sabotage” . A third excuse is more feasible; “We maintain a strict control of photographic information to ensure that only the most up-to-date material is published” . Finally, there is the fear that photo­ graphs may be used against the interests of the company. With unions vying for presence on the oil rigs, a photograph of injuries or careless safety practice could be used to bring pressure to bear on the oil companies and the Government. Don James is a pseudonym. Many oil companies forbid photography. Remaining anonymous will enable him to continue his work. welder can earn £350 a week, working a fourteen hour day, seven days a week on an oil rig. He will probably also be an electrician’s assistant or a painter when needed. He can work six months of the year, and rest for the other six on the £13000 gross he makes. Unions, he feels, might improve his conditions but would inevitably reduce his pay packet. At present the Government simply stipulates that A no person under the age of eighteen may work offshore and that an accurate record be kept of each man’s working hours. Shorter working hours and a less flexible labour force would not be in the oil companies’ interests. A rig or platform can only produce thirty to sixty tons of fresh water a day, store a certain amount of food and house so many men; the work force must be productive for as long as possible. The British National Oil Corporation operated Thistle Field is one of the few with full union membership and owner co-operation on its rigs and platforms. Occidentals’ Piper and Claymore platforms are reported to be ‘going union’ in the near future. Most major construc­ tion and hook-up operations, however, will be completed by that time, and the larger work forces depleted. Of those remaining, drilling crews are notoriously transient and production personnel are largely company men. The oil companies provide well for the mens’ leisure on the rigs. It is generally agreed by men working on the rigs that the food is superb. Entertainment in the form of video cassette tele­ vision, three to four film shows a day, snooker tables, and sometimes saunas and gymnasium, are provided. The men seldom complain about such facilities. In stark contrast, is the very high accident rate; an ideal lever for the unions. Development in the North Sea has been so rapid that safe working practices have often been bypassed or given low priority, hence endangering men’s lives. The oil companies are certainly under enormous pressure to get oil ashore as quickly as possible. The pressure is from investors and government alike, motivated either by the possibility for the government of an economic cure-all or simply by profit. The number of diving deaths only declined after the Govern­ m ent’s introduction of new safety regulations. Between twenty-eight and thirty crane Accommodation barge in Force 9 gale. operators have died since operations began in the North Sea, ten years ago. The most common cause of death being the crane and operator falling into the sea. It could be argued that technology and training do not match the demands made on men and machines. At the other end of the scale, men have killed themselves by ignoring safety measures. Most oil companies forbid the use of alcohol offshore. Their reasoning seems plain. A man working a twelve hour day, seven days a week, reaches the limit of his mental and physical capacity. Alcohol would not only be dangerous in safety terms but could also enhance the tension between men living in such a close community. Before going offshore, each man is searched for alcohol, drugs, weapons and sometimes cameras. Alcohol is difficult to hide, but many take drugs with them. It is not known how many accidents result from their use. Recently, two men died after drinking wood alcohol on one of the northernmost platforms. Certain scaffolders refuse to use safety harnesses when working at heights of over sixty feet. Undoubtedly men are responsible for their own safety as much as the company is responsible for provision of a safe working environment. The debate continues. Meanwhile, men will be injured and killed for the most part without their interests being represented. Every oilman has his stories to tell of death and injury; sadly many simply reinforce the media stereotype of a rough, tough, rock hard pioneer though many oilmen are just boys playing a man’s game. The media assumes that working offshore concerns only that ‘glamorous’ crew of twelve who do the actual drilling. The backup team of hundreds who prepare the groundwork is forgotten. The inevitable hierarchy exists. At the bottom are the stewards, who cook, clean, serve meals, wash-up etc.; then there are the roustabouts - the platform labourers, who are usually attached to the drilling crew but are available for everything from painting to unloading stores and roughnecks who form the bulk of the drilling crew and do the heaviest manual work. ‘Roughneck’ refers to the abrasions to the neck and shoulders, received whilst manhandling ninety foot sections of pipe during drilling operations. Roustabouts and roughnecks are amongst those most often injured. Those three groups form the main part of the manpower. Others include: drilling crew derrick man, assistant driller, crane driver, CAMERAWORK Comment from the only black on the rig. Cooks work throughout the night. Meals are available all the time. Working over the sea without safety harness or life jacket. driller and toolpusher. Specialists include: mud-engineers, casing stabbers, wireline operators, petroleum engineers, geophysicists, radio operators, safety officers, insurance agents, medics, helicopter landing crew, clerks, administrators and mechanics. All personnel are presided over by the oil company toolpusher and, finally, the installation manager. Out of this list all are white. ‘Accidents’ have been known to happen to blacks, so drilling companies are reluctant to employ them. Pakistanis, Indians or Algerians are never seen offshore. While the majority are making good money, there are exceptions. The case of the stewards stands out especially, considering their parti­ cularly bad working conditions. Catering companies such as Sea Hotels (a part of the Grand Metropolitan Group) or Caterae Inter­ national, which service the rigs, are based in areas of high unemployment - South Shields, Glasgow, Liverpool etc. They compete by keeping employees wages to a minimum. Stewards would welcome unionisation though it has proved very difficult to achieve. The staff turnover in catering is high. Unfor­ tunately, access to the installations by union representatives is controlled by the oil company and recruitment is very difficult. At least fifty per cent membership would be required before the catering companies would consider recognising the unions. In other areas too the oil companies can avoid direct contact between themselves and their employees by their policy of contracting out work to specialist labour-hire firms. This has a two-fold advantage; it leaves them free to concentrate on logistics, finance and legislation, and means that they can easily pass on the responsibility for any labour problems. Recently 120 men in the Dunlin field went on strike because the contractor refused to recognise their grievance committee. Quite simply the oil company said, “This is not our problem, contractors can sort out their own problems ashore.” The 120 men were airlifted out to Aberdeen and a new crew sent out within days. This type of thing is typical of the oil companies approach to ‘Good Industrial Relations’ in the North Sea, and is perhaps not too surprising considering the extent to which the industry is dominated by American capital and expertise. The expense of a rosy economic future for Britain, whether measured in terms of Labour Relations, or more importantly, lives lost, is clearly high. America gave us the myth about the Texas Oil Man, and we now have our own version. Unfortunately though, like most myths, the one about the North Sea ‘Oilmen’ is untrue. Don James CAMERAWORK I ok& *Kj Ad. H (l0JV & W t, i t'O-fei te p 'k e W L ta j" ■fel^uC t*u® low tei, e ^ a ( o r |^ e s J ^ / > c ^ (ch*£ k o u rfl lee^ps^vv^ W G (iv ^ t fe e u W M ^ ^ i^ e«cfc> «. "t^nsw^v t % XA pi&w PM. P o d i ’o idild^ "dta^S |a>**&C <>-AJJ^t*0/ $p rtWit^L tb tfA A j. Wt. w w k , UaG-\, ^ t& *v^ etajjrw \1 & A % fosf^je> TfcoS^ewvdL Kji/)»SA D ojuH \^ I'W < nt« , 'v a _ (JW t k U W 'vi nsta A) A i_ X l) k jiw T pp- u t a w A. (H * * ^ ^ A ^ ^©^v P^v^jo ....... o-vfc fo T A. w n i i t . . 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SillKT , bWfe) 15 CAMERAWORK hotographers should not put pictures in a box under their beds and be the only ones to see them. If they put film in their cameras it presupposes that they want to record what they see and show somebody else. Photo­ graphy is about communication. There are a million ways to do this. The dental photographer x-rays your tooth to see if it is decayed. If he pulls out the right tooth, that is a good photograph, because he knows what to do and does it thoroughly. His audience may be limited to another dentist, but it is still a successful photograph even though outside its context, it is unlikely to be of interest, except in some conceptual way. The first question has to be: ‘What is the purpose of the picture?’ The next question is: ‘Does it need more than one picture?’ The final question is: ‘How do you know when you have finished?’ You need simple rules for many reasons, which obviously you can break time and time again. They give a structure to work from. The story must have pace. Avoid boredom by changing the rhythm of the photographs. You need close-up, medium and the overall picture that sets the scene. You must control what you do, give the picture story some sort of form. You should not pre-conceive the story but you must be aware of what is needed. Your task is to illustrate in advance what becomes your memory of the event. Ask somebody who has been to a march what they remember and they will reply: ‘There were about 6,000 people there, most of them very quiet, many of them were middle class and a lot of them were women with kids. Most were reasonably smartly dressed.’ When you look at their contacts you see five people in unusual clothes and a punch-up that lasted all of three minutes during the three and half hour march. The pictures do not relate to the photographer’s memory of the event. Too often, the photo­ grapher looks for the visually strong picture rather than covering what actually happens. Why? One excuse is that this is what papers want to publish. Perhaps more accurate is that most photographers do not have the ability to record the event as it is. They take the easy The Picture Story P This article is based on a conversation with David H um, who is a member o f Magnum and runs a course in documentary photography at Gwent College o f Higher Education, Newport, South Wales. Quotes . . . . The basic unit of photojournalism is one picture with words . . . In the re-creation of an experience in photojournalism, pictures and words together perform a more effective function than either can perform alone . . . The free-wheeling individual or traditional journalism is replaced by a group which gathers the material for and ‘writes’ a report or interpretation of the news or related subject matter. The success of the group’s operation depends on a disciplining of those who compose it to operate smoothly as a unit and to understand one another’s functions; other­ wise there can be no translation of words into pictures, and back again . . . The procedure of turning an event or an idea into a picture story begins on Life with a writer, but not a writer in the ordinary sense . . . The original principle of operation with respect to the writer was that he would (1) suggest an event or an idea as a possible picture story, (2) present it for discussion, (3) take the lead in its planning, (4) direct the research, (5) help instruct the photographer, (6) study and organise the pictures after they were produced, (7) make a layout, and (8) write whatever text was required . . . Wilson Hicks, former Executive Editor of Life in ‘Words and Pictures’ 1952. As an artist today I somehow feel that you have to be enraged. I mean, besides the intuition I had and how the country (America) affected me, I also didn’t want to produce what everybody else was producing. I wanted to follow my own intuition and do it my way, and not make any concession - not make a Life story. That was another thing I hated. Those goddammed stories with a beginning and an end . . . I remember Life once gave me an assign­ ment. I went with Kerouac to pick up his mother. We wanted to get some money for the trip to Florida, so I said, ‘Let’s get some money from Life.' We went there, and they said, ‘Alright, Kerouac will write a story, and you’ll photograph.’ So we did it, and I showed them the photographs, and the guy said, option, the visual cliche. The photographer goes to a pop concert. He is slightly high, the music is loud, and there are 3,000 people. In the middle of this he sees a beautiful blonde girl and falls in love with her for 10 seconds, presses the button and takes her photograph. When he looks at the print he says: ‘Isn’t that fantastic!’ but really he is thinking about the music and that little blonde girl. He shows the picture to his friend who knows nothing of the music and likes brunettes. ‘I suppose it’s about this dark haired girl in the corner,’ his friend thinks. The picture has not worked as it does not simply and precisely communicate what the photographer wished to convey. It is very difficult to criticise your own pictures and really see what is there. tudents at Newport have to decide on a story and be very clear on what they want to do. They are not allowed to hide behind generalisations like ‘poverty’. They must get clear in their minds what aspect of the story they are attempting. For example, the student decides to photo­ graph a working men’s club. They should start by going to the club, sit down, spend an evening there, look, absorb, be part of the whole thing. When they leave they should get out a notebook and write down (say) 12 headings. They might write down ‘loneliness’, ‘dirt’, ‘aggression’, ‘happiness’. The headings might be more pictorial like ‘people talking together’ or ‘people playing bingo’. This is their memory of the club. They then go back to the club and attempt to photograph those headings. This means that if there is a club with a stripper in the corner they do not spend nine weeks out of ten photo­ graphing the stripper and one week photo­ graphing the more difficult things. They may photograph all of the 12 headings on the first night. Students then look at their contacts and when they get a photograph which fits one of their headings they tick it off and do not photograph that any more. They then concen­ trate on the other 11 headings. The first picture is almost certainly going to be the stripper because the simplest thing in the world is to photograph some girl taking her clothes off. After a couple of nights, they have done all S ‘Well, this looks like Russia.’ I never forgot that. Robert Frank in ‘Photography within the Humanities’. And frankly, my stories were among the most successful that Life ever used. I had to fight for all of them to get publication. If they had treated many other subjects with greater depth and greater feeling - instead of, in the end, considerable superficiality - I think they would have survived. As to my photography of human being, compared to Life’s usual approach, it is a lot harder to do it my way. I just simply wanted to give the time and the effort to take the super­ ficiality out of the story. After I did, Life often would bring back that superficiality . . . They came up with many fresh ideas, but too often they treated a fresh idea in the same old way. Too often, especially in the early days, they would issue scripts including what photographs should be made. These would be written by generally inexperienced indi­ viduals in the main office, perhaps 1,500 or 2.000 miles away from the individuals in the story. If a script said a farmer in South Dakota went to his outhouse every morning at 3.00 a.m. - even though he had the most modern of toilets - the photographs very likely would show him going to his neighbour’s out­ house. I just, well, read the script and threw it away. It was a hell of a way to run a magazine ‘of reality.’ W. Eugene Smith in ‘Photography within the Humanities’. The documentary articles (James) Agee finally handed in did not obey the pattern of the ‘Life and Circumstances’ series, nor Fortune’s standards of decorum. The article, subsequently lost, was at least ten times longer than asked for and, (Walker) Evans recalls: ‘pretty thunderhouse.’ . . . it fitted neither the ‘liberal’ nor the ‘conservative’ category of Fortune articles of the time, being ‘pessimistic, unconstructive, impractical, indignant, lyrical, always personal.’ In brief, it was . . . too long, too personal, and too violent . . . It had another shortcoming. The ‘Life and the easy, pictorial photographs and can then concentrate on the important, but more taxing aspects. The list which they wrote down after their first visit tells them that these are just as impor­ tant as the stripper. For the first time they spend more time on the difficult photographs. When they complete their list of 12 headings, they know they have finished. They have the story. It is bound to work in a personal way, because that is how they remember it. That does not mean that you cannot branch out from your chosen 12, or six, or 20 headings. If something exciting happens in the corner, which is not on the list, of course you take pictures. But it does mean that every time you get stuck you have a framework to go back to, and it does mean that you know when you have completed the story. With this method people do not spend five weeks shooting pictures des
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Mike Goldwater, Sue Hobbs, Peter Marlow, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, Siddhiratna, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerGinger Prichard, Jenny Matthews, Bill Jay, Tom Picton
      • author_photographerIan Berry, Harry Chambers, Mary Ellen Mark, James H. Karales, Andre Kertesz, Eva Rubenstein, Ric Sissons, Becky Young, Peter Kennard
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweeDanny Lyon, John Fowles, Joe Deal
      • author_organisation
      • tagson photography',photography and memory,development of photography,private vs. public photography,documentary,world health organisation,international labour office,un,post-colonialism,'a seventh man',migrant workers,pin-ups,pornography,editing,maternity,capitalism,english psyche,class stereotypes,black british,magnum,steel works,mining communities,lung disease,workplace deaths,trade unions,racial discrimination,women workers,exhibition captions,oral history,photomontage,propaganda,captions,copper industry,allende,1973 coup,political prisoners,touring exhibitions,alternative technology,universality,colonialism,working children,play environments,photo-book,'the family of man',war & conflict,third world,bill jay,photography criticism,from photography to film,economics of photography vs. film,civil rights movement,us prisons,publishing,bikers,attica rebellion,decline of photography
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 10
      • subtitleIssue 10: John Berger Jean Mohr Bill Jay Letter. Danny Lyon Interviewed. D.I.Y. Exhibitions
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Ginger Prichard, Jenny Matthews, Bill Jay, Tom Picton, Ian Berry, Harry Chambers, Mary Ellen Mark, James H. Karales, Andre Kertesz © 2018 Estate of André Kertész/Higher Pictures, Eva Rubenstein, Ric Sissons, Becky Young, Peter Kennard, Danny Lyon, John Fowles, Joe Deal
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1) USA (pg 2) Paris, France. Geneva, Switzerland. Middle East. Africa (pg 3) Greece. Switzerland (pg 4) Battersea, London, UK. Spitafields, London, UK. Whitechapel, London, UK. Ascot, UK (pg 5) Midlands, UK (pg 6,7,12,13) Chile. USA. Manhattan, New York, USA. Texas, USA. (pg 15) Colombia
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      • origination_date1978
      • origination_year1978
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:57:52
      • created_by(null)
      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • pdf_textNick Hedges. From ‘Factory Photographs’, H.M.P.W. Touring Exhibition John Berger Jean Mohr Bill Jay Letter. Danny Lyon Interviewed D.I.Y. Exhibitions No 10 Half Moon Photography Workshop John Berger: Ways of Remembering They are coming to offer their labour. Their labour power is ready-made. The industrialized country, whose production is going to benefit from it, has not borne any of the cost of creating it; any more than it will bear the cost of supporting a seriously sick migrant worker, or one who has grown too old to work. So far as the economy of the metropolitan country is concerned, migrant workers are immortal: immortal because continually interchangeable. They are not born: they are not brought u p : they do not age; they do not get tired: they do not die. They have a single function - to work. All other functions of their fives are the responsibility of the country they come from. Migrant workers, already living in the metropolis, have the habit of visiting the main railway station. To talk in groups there, to watch the trains come in, to receive first-hand news from their country, to anticipate the day when they will begin the return journey. In his imagination every migrant worker is in transit. He remembers the past: he anticipates the future: his aims and his recollections make his thoughts a train between the two. 2 o s In the winter the main railway station is warm. And it is one of the few places where events occur and they can remain spectators, and at the same time outnumber the citizens. The constituents of leisure: the right to watch, and the capacity to be at ease with those of your own choosing. 2 5 & He is listening to the noise of the train in the throat of the journey. The noise is as regular as the lines. Over this, irregularly, rising to crescendos and falling away, are the noises of what the train is passing: the fields murmur, brick walls pound fists on metal, a station throws gravel against the windows. When the terminus first arrives, it does so in silence. 64 65 ‘H ow in practice can we use photographs so that, even though we are using them publicly, they are replaced in a context which is comparable to that o f private photographs. This is what Jean Mohr, Sven Blomberg and myself have tried to do in our books. What we have achieved is only a tentative beginnings, others later will make us look like primitives. ’ A book by Susan Sontag was recently pub lished in the United States. Called On t Photography it will soon be published here. I think that it’s perhaps the most impor tant book on photography ever written. In what I’m going to say I am borrowing a great deal from her insights. One can begin by asking - before the inven tion of photography what served in its place? What was there before photography? The obvious answer would be engravings, drawings, paintings, graphic works of one kind or another. Yet, if one doesn’t look at it from a purely tech nical point of view, what served the function that photography now serves is none of those things, given the vastness of today’s global system of photography. What served that func tion before photography was the faculty of memory. If that sounds paradoxical I hope it will become clear in a minute. A photo’s relation to the object or event depicted is different from that of a painting or engraving, because the latter is a reconstitu tion of the event, whereas a photograph is, as it were, a trace of that event. A photograph is similar to a footprint ora deathmask. It is a trace of a set of instant appearances. The camera, like the eye, records appearances through the media tion of light. But the camera, unlike the eye, fixes the set of appearances which it records. It preserves those appearances from the supercession of other appearances. If I look at you and then I look around, the appearances recorded by my eye are continually changing. What the camera does is to fix a set of appearances and, in so far as it does that, it is like memory. Memory preserves an event from being covered and therefore hidden by the events that come after it. It holds a single event. So does the camera. When one really begins to think about it, the practice of photography is unprecedented, there was no equivalent before it. In a sense if I compare photography with memory I am comparing two completely incomparable things. It is an unsatisfactory comparison, but we are forced to make it. When photography was first invented and used, there were con siderable debates about whether it was a form of art or a science. What I’m suggesting is that our systematic use of photography is almost a metaphysical process. hotography was discovered in 1839 by Fox Talbot. One of the things that immediately strikes one is how quickly the possible uses of this new discovery were taken up and applied by the industrialised countries at that time. Within thirty years it was being used for nearly all the purposes to which we are accustomed. It was being used to make postcards of places, it was being used for police records, war reporting, military reconnaissance, pornography, family albums, anthropological records (often, as with the Indians in the US, accompanied by genocide), sentimental moralising, news reporting and formal portrai ture. Capitalism needed photography. Nevertheless it was not until the period between the two world wars that the photo graph became the dominant and most ‘natural’ way of referring to appearances. It was then that it replaced the word as immediate testimony. It was the period when photography was thought of as being most transparent, offering direct access to the real - the period of the great witnessing masters of the medium like Paul Strand and Walker Evans. It was, in the capita list countries, the freest moment of photo graphy: it had been liberated from the limita tions of fine art, it had become a public medium and so could be used democratically, and had not yet become the febrile production of consuming dreams - or nightmares. Yet the moment was brief. The very ‘truth fulness’ of the medium dialectically encouraged P its deliberate use as a means of propaganda. The Nazis were among the first to use systematic photographic propaganda. At the same time, less perceptibly, photography was beginning to become, everywhere in the industrially developed world, an ideological component. In the first period of its existence, photography had offered a new technical opportunity, it had been an implement. Now, instead of offering a new choice, its usage and its ‘reading’ were becoming habitual, an unexamined part of modern perception itself. Many developments contributed to this transformation: the new film industry; the invention of the lightweight camera, so that the taking of a photograph ceased to be a ritual and became a ‘reflex’; the discovery of photojournalism, whereby the text follows the picture instead of vice versa; the emergence of advertising as a crucial economic force. The first really large circulation picture maga zine was started in the US in 1936. At least two things were prophetic about the launching of Life, the prophecies to be fully realised in the postwar television age. The magazine was financed not by its sales, but by the advertising it carried. One-third of its pages and images were devoted to publicity. The second prophecy lay in its title. Time magazine had been started ten years earlier as a digest of the news, on the assumption that a mass audience could not have the time to read the full news reports. Life intended to fill the space thus emptied with pictures. Its title is ambiguous. It can mean that these pictures are about life, yet it seems to promise more: that these pictures are life. The first photograph in the first issue played on this ambiguity. It showed a newborn baby. The caption underneath read: “Life begins . . Why has photography lent itself so easily to usages which are relatively independent of the photographers’ intentions? I think the reason is fairly simple. The photograph offers a set of appearances prised away from their context and therefore from their meaning, because meaning is always a question of process - meaning lies in narrative, meaning is born out of development and process. If you stop that process, and take a set of images out of their context, they are prised away from their meaning. Something of the violence of that prising away of appearances from the continuum in which they once existed is suggested by the following thought. Imagine that the life of a photograph is only ten years, and most photographs last longer, the ratio between that life and the instant it represents will be something like 200,000 million to one. This perhaps gives one some idea of the violence of the fission that occurs when a set of appear ances is prised away from its context. The violence destroys meaning. And the set of appearances is then available to any meaning being put upon it. ow there are two distinct uses of photo graphy: the private and the public. The private, that is to say the photographs one has of the people one loves, one’s friends, the class one was in at school, etc; in private use a photograph is read in a context which is still continuous with that from which it was taken. Take a photograph of your Mother. There’s still that prising away of an instant. But there remains a continuity between you and your experience and your Mother. The private context creates a continuity which is parallel to the continuity from which the photograph was originally taken. Private photographs are nearly always of something which you have known. By contrast public photographs are usually images of the unknown, or at best, they are images of things which are known only through other photo graphs. The public photograph has been severed from life when it was taken, and it N This issue of CAMERAWORK, July 1978 was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photo graphy and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photography, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our own lives. The people who worked on this issue were: Ed Barber, Mike Goldwater, Sue Hobbs, Peter Marlow, Jenny Matthews, TomPicton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, Siddhiratna, Paul Trevor. If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute we would be glad to hear from you. Please make sure it reaches us as soon as possible. (ISSN 0308 1676) 9 remains, as an isolated image, separate from your experience. The public photograph is like the memory of a total stranger, a total stranger who has shouted ‘Look’ at the event recorded. There is something about every photograph which is intimate. It’s bound to be so because it goes in, it isolates and it frames. You are always in a situation of intimacy towards what has been photographed. That is another reason why I talk about memory. At the same time because the public photograph is divorced from all first hand experience, it represents the memory of a total stranger. Who is this stranger? One could answer that it is all the photographers. Yet the photographers are only the agents of this memory. They do not construct the system. There is a cartoon that Daumier made of Nadar in a balloon over Paris. His hat is blowing off in the wind, and he has this very large clumsy camera with which he is photographing the whole of Paris below. This cartoon offers us a clue. Perhaps the eye of the total stranger is the eye of God, but the eye of a totally secularised, totally estranged God. A God of nothingness. The faculty of memory allows us to preserve certain events from oblivion. Because of their experience of this faculty, women and men in nearly all cultures have assumed that there was somewhere an all-seeing eye. They accredited this eye to spirits, ancestors, Gods or a single God. Such an all-seeing eye recorded all events, and the idea of this eye was connected with the idea of justice, to be remembered was to be redeemed; to be forgotten was to be condemned. The all-seeing eye saw in order to judge. The all-seeing eye recorded all events and in that recording was implicit a kind of judge ment. Nineteenth century capitalism elided the judgement of God into the judgement of history. Today we live in a culture which denies history, which cuts itself off from history, a culture of pure opportunism. So we have the systematic use of photographs, used as an allseeing eye, recording events. But this all-seeing eye judges nothing: it uses neither the judge ment of history, nor the judgement of God, it is totally without judgement. It is an eye which records in order to forget. Is an alternative use of photography con ceivable? Is it possible to use photography addressing such a use to the hope of an alterna tive future? CAMERAWORK The immediate answer to that is yes. You can use photography in all kinds of agitprop ways, you can make propaganda with photographs you can make anti-capitalist propaganda, anti imperialist propaganda. I wouldn’t deny the usefulness of this, but at the same time I think the answer is incomplete. It’s like taking a cannon and turning it round and firing it in the opposite direction. You haven’t actually changed the practice, you’ve simply changed the aim. How is it possible to use photography so that it doesn’t function like the eye of a totally estranged God? We have to go back to the dis tinction I made between the private and public uses of photography. In the private use of photography, the photograph does not lend itself to any use, it does not become a completely value-free object because the use reconstitutes the continuity from which it was taken. Maybe one has to consider how the private use of photo graphy could be extended, could be enlarged so that it might cease to be private and become public. ne of the most important and most popular photographic exhibitions ever put on was called The Family of Man. It was organised by Steichen in 1955. Steichen, I think, had a starting point not far from what I’m saying. The exhibition was arranged like a family album. The overall notion was that the world is like a family with birth, death, marriage, unhappiness, hopes, fears, dreams, etc everywhere. Such a notion was a sentimental short cut because it is not possible to treat the existing world as if it were without contradic tions, without murderous struggles, as if it were a family. The unity of the world has not yet been achieved. And so the exhibition as a whole was evasive and sentimental although many of the images in it were not. Yet Steichen’s intuition was not wrong. If the camera is not to be used as if it were the eye of a totally estranged God, we can say that photography awaits a world historical consciousness which has yet to be achieved. It awaits a social memory which will transcend the distinction between public and private. How in practice can we use photographs, so that, even though we are using them publicly, they are replaced in a context which is com parable to that of private photographs? This is what Jean Mohr, Sven Blomberg and myself O have tried to do in our books. What we have achieved is only a tentative beginning, others later will make us look like primitives. The problem is to construct a context for a photograph, to construct it with words, to construct it with other photographs, to con struct it by its place in an ongoing text of photo graphs and images. How? Normally photographs are used in a very unilinear way they are used to illustrate an argument, or to demonstrate a thought which goes like this • . ---------------------------- _> Very frequently also they are used tautologi cally so that the photograph merely repeats what is being said in words. Memory is not unilinear at all. Memory works radially, that is to say with an enormous number of associations all leading to the same event. The diagram is like If we want to put a photograph back into the context of experience, social experience, social memory, we have to respect the laws of memory. We have to situate the printed photo graph so that it acquires something of the sur prising conclusiveness of that which was and is. What Brecht wrote about acting in one of his poems is applicable to such a practice. For instant one can read photography, for acting the re-creating of context: So you should simply make the instant Stand out, without in the process hiding What you are making it stand out from. Give your acting That progression of one-thing-afteranother, that attitude of Working up what you have taken on. In this way You will show the flow of events and also the course O f your work, permitting the spectator To experience this Now on many levels, coming from Previously and Merging into Afterwards, also having much else Now Alongside it. He is sitting not only In your theatre but also In the world. There are a few great photographs which practically achieve this by themselves. Any photograph may become such a ‘Now’ if an adequate context is created for it. In general the better the photograph, the fuller the context which can be created. Such a context replaces the photograph in time - not its own original time for that is impossible - but in narrated time. Narrated time becomes historic time when it is assumed by social memory and social action. The con structed narrated time needs to respect the process of memory which it hopes to stimulate. There is never a single approach to some thing remembered. The remembered is not like a terminus at the end of a line. Numerous approaches or stimuli converge upon it and lead to it. Words, comparisons, signs need to create a context for a printed photograph in a com parable way; that is to say, they must mark and leave open diverse approaches. A radial system has to be constructed around the photograph so that it may be seen in terms which are simul taneously personal, political, economic, dramatic, everyday and historic. ■ The original version of this article was presented to the British Sociological Association Conference at the University o f Sussex in April. It has been revised for Camerawork by John Berger. John Berger is noted for his radical criticism of art and society. He attended both the Central and the Chelsea Schools of Art in London and started life as a painter. His published works include a book o f essays called Permanent Red (1960); Success and Failure of Picasso (1965); four novels: A Painter of Our Time (1958), The Foot of Clive (1962), Corker’s Freedom (1964) and G ( 1972); and A n and Revolution (1969). Ways of Seeing ( 1972), which started as a B B C tv series. He wrote A Fortunate Man (1967) and A Seventh Man (1975) with Jean Mohr. Berger now writes regularly for New Society and lives in France. On Photography by Susan Sontagwill be pub lished by Allen Lane on July 27, price £5.50. The American edition is available at the same price from Arts Bibliographic Bookshop, 48 Earlham Street, WC2 and Creative Camera, 19 Doughty Street, WC1. Jean Mohr: Ways of Working Jean Mohr has been a freelance photographerfor 23 years. He studied economics at Geneva Univer sity, worked for the Red Cross with Palestinian refugees, and studied painting in Paris for a year. When his photographs o f the Middle East aroused more interest than his paintings, he returned to Geneva to write and translate for a newspaper while taking more and more pictures. He is now co operating with John Berger on a book about peasants. Shirley Read and Tom Picton spoke to Jean Mohr in London. He told them that he had been unwilling to take some o f the photographs in A Fortunate Man. There were some moments where I didn’t want to take pictures but it was the doctor who reminded me of my duty . . . for instance, one little story which appears in the book is of an old couple. The wife was depressed, she had a breakdown, and they came in the middle of the afternoon, both on a motorcycle or side car. She was in the middle of her forties and he was completely lost. Probably the breakdown had to do with her age. They had lived together for more than 20 or 25 years and he was just com pletely lost. He brought her to the doctor and she was crying and he was lost and I felt at that moment that it was too private and I didn’t want to take pictures but the doctor reminded me and said: ‘If you want to show what is the life of a doctor, this belongs also to my practice. I don’t have only to cure physical things.’ Which was true. His position in such a village was far more than just curing physical diseases. He was in fact replacing the priest. Whenever somebody in the village had some problems, even moral problems, if young people wanted to get married, they first came to him, to ask him for advice, he had a very strong position. You see the position of a photographer is in fact a very strong one, a very easy one. It’s like being behind the cops during, a demonstration. I’m sorry to say that. It’s the easy way. I’ve experienced that many times during my WHO stories where, very often, I had even to wear a white coat. When you enter an operation room, for instance, you have to be like a doctor for obvious reasons. For hygienic reasons. You’re just a doctor with a camera. In this case I was not another doctor with a camera but his friend so I was cleared . . . When these pictures were pub lished I had been reluctant. I took the pictures because he was right, my duty was to take them. But then, when it came to the layout, again I said to John: ‘But listen, first of all for moral reasons and then even for legal reasons, we have to be very careful. I don’t know if we should print them’. He was on the side of the doctor. He said: ‘Yes, we have to.’ Jean Mohr has worked extensively for the World Health Organisation (WHO), International Labour Office (ILO), and other specialised UN agencies, in Asia, Africa, America and Europe. How valuable is this work? For a long time I thought it was really useful. But I am happy that it’s more or less over. Here I was, a white photographer, sent by the head quarters to any place in Asia or Africa and there was something paternalistic about the whole thing. I remember very well at the beginning that ILO, International Labour Office, expected a certain kind of picture - the white expert explaining to the good black how to handle a machine, and so on. Then suddenly, five years ago, it goes with the denomination also - it was the ‘underdeveloped world’ and then it became the ‘developing world’. In pictures you could feel the same thing. Suddenly you were asked to avoid such kind of pictures. The white expert would suddenly disappear into the background. He would still be there, just to give advice or something, nothing more. Now I think the white expert would just be out of the picture. The European photographer who goes to Africa has a very hard job because he’s not welcome any more and he’s not welcome any more coming from the UN (United Nations) moreover. One of the last assignments I did in Senegal was for the UN. The first thing I was told was that I better go back immediately to Geneva because there was nothing to be photographed. That happens more and more, that you feel that you are not wanted for obvious reasons. ■ t CAMERAWORK ‘A Seventh Man’ - Theory in Practice ‘In A Seventh Man there is a photograph, which is in a wooden barracks where Portuguese and Yugoslavs live. They work in a tunnel, they live in a wooden barracks, they have bunks two above the other. Around the bunks, on the roof of the bunk above, all the way round are pictures, sexy pictures, which they did not of course bring with them. They bought them in Germany or Switzerland or somewhere. The room is absolutely plastered with these. We wanted to use that picture because it was impor tant, first of all because it was like that, secondly because it is, in a sense, an indirect index of the sexual deprivation suffered by these men. How to do it? Because you put that picture on a page and what does it say? How is that image going to work? It firstly, maybe, approves of the virulent sexism of the images stuck up. It’s going to con firm the superstition that these men are all sex maniacs and it’s probably also going to give a vicarious thrill to some. You see, it’s not going to work and it was a problem which we actually worked on for about a week. How could we use this in order to escape this automatic and false meaning? We tried juxtaposing that picture with pictures of the men’s faces, it doesn’t work because it doesn’t really mean anything - it really only adds the personalities of these people. We tried putting in a photograph of something in the street, some sex shop in the street where the bourgeois of the city go. But again that says it is o.k. the petty bourgeois go to the sex shop the same as the migrant workers. It doesn’t help. I’m not saying that the solution we found is the ideal one, but finally we found a photograph of an old peasant woman in her village who could have been the mother of any of those workers - in fact she wasn’t - but she could have been. It was a picture of a mother, quite influenced in some respects by Catholic iconography with the Madonna and so on. The kind of picture that one of those workers might have carried around with him. It had a kind of icon value, it was sacred. We then put next to it not a photograph at all but a reproduction of a Madonna, a painting by Perugino. There begins to be a juxtaposition between idealised mater nity and real maternity - that’s to say a woman o f 45 looking like 65 and probably with eight children. Then we turned the page and in that context we put the picture of the barracks with the sexy pictures all round. Beginning to relate, to talk about a life story, beginning to talk about women in more than one dimension, beginning to talk about the experience of those men. And then finally we chose to put opposite that barracks picture an extraordinary photograph that Jean took of a young Polish peasant girl - at that time totally uninfluenced and untouched by sexist consumerist glamour, who at the same time has a very beautiful face, young and questioning,the exact opposite in fact of the women in the barracks picture but correspond ing very likely to one of the girls in the village. Now with those four pictures we perhaps began to put back the first one - that is to say the barracks one - in a context.’ John Berger From a discussion at the B .S .A . Conference. April ’78. 4 CAMERAWORK Ian Berry’s Pictures of the English. “The film cannot be the medium of a culture all of whose surface appearances mislead, and which has made such a psychological art o f escaping present, or camera, reality. For us English the camera, a public eye, invites performance, lying . . . With film-making our real ‘block’ is our secret know ledge that any true picture o f the English must express what the camera cannot capture - the continual evasion o f the inner self, the continual actuality o f saying one thing and thinking another . . . The eternal bar is that the elusive and eluding nature o f the English psyche is profoundly unsym pathetic to visual representation.” (Quote from the book Daniel Martin by John Fowles) If one agrees that the camera cannot probe beneath the masks of the English there is only one thing to do; record the performances which make the English the best actors and actresses in the world. Instead of waiting for the masks to slip, why not capture the strain of keeping them in place? Recognizing the masks and the strain is the first step toward self discovery. The next is to question why such semblances are neces sary. Is the best role for the camera, an essentially nostalgic tool, to preserve the safe rituals and structures to which the English cling rather than to acknowledge the guises and thereby docu ment the unfixed and shaky steps of self know ledge? These are my questions after seeing Ian Berry’s pictures at The Photographers’ Gallery, London. They preview his book - The English published in June. They will also tour the country under the auspices of the Arts Council. In 1974, the Council gave Berry the first major bursary in photography for his personal project; getting to know his country better after having lived in Africa for several years. A member of Magnum, Berry is internationally known for his pictures of the 1960 Sharpeville (South Africa) massacre. The Sharpeville pictures were intended to show a specific, dramatic event, which is not the case for the English project. It is more difficult to photograph the mundane events of daily life, with which we are all familiar, and maintain such an emotional high in the images’ impact. Although not expecting an intense experience from the portrait of the English, I was disap pointed by not being moved at all toward an insight into the national character or into a slightly different way of seeing. Berry’s portrait is built on stereotypes. Neither are the masks noted nor the stress of keeping them on shown. It is the ritual and structure which is duly recorded. Many of his images are of working-class people, the majority seen from a distance in dark shadows. They are working, waiting for a bus, walking down a road; their heads are bent, shoulders stooped; they gaze downward. The fragile and stooped frame of an East Midlands invalid is swallowed up by a huge black chair before a table of two bowls of untouched food. There is a good tension in the symbolic irony of engulfing chair (death) and untouched food (life). But like the others, this picture is only a caricature. It does not evoke empathy for the person or the class. About 20 of the 70 images in the exhibit are of young people, couples dancing or touching each other in public. In Battersea, the embracing young couple is echoed by the statue of a boy angel putting his arms around a nubile nymph. Hyde Park shows a threesome. The boy has his arms around two girls, squeezing the breast of one while the other plays with his hair. We see the rites of young, exhibitionistic love. There are only a few pictures of the uppermiddle classes. A man at Crufts puckers his mouth for a kiss, leaning over to the dog in the lap of the woman next to him. A young, welldressed man with longish hair stares into the camera from the Chelsea flower show. Although these pictures prompt a smile, they are con trived parodies. There is more to the uppermiddle classes than this. Then there is the picture about the inter action of the classes where a gentleman and a worker cross paths from opposite directions at Ascot. The picture was taken in the middle of a street, from an angle that makes the gentleman appear to be on a higher plane than the worker. With furrowed brow and bent back, the worker strains to push a dolly laden with crates. Neither looks at the other; the gentleman looks straight ahead and the worker off to one side. In this case, I feel that Berry is simply observing that a class system still exists. The few pictures on the race question are mere snapshots or obscure. In Brixton, a black worker and a white one smile broadly for the camera in front of what appears to be a ware house doorway. A black man sitting, perhaps living, in the boot of a junked car gives the camera a blank expression in Spitalfields, Whitechapel. Many of his pictures are well composed, sen sitive to the need to balance light and dark areas and shapes. With a clearer intent, this ability could make very strong images. Particularly exciting is his emerging personal symbolism which can add depth to his portraits. But juxta positions of dark and eerie shadows or objects with his subjects create a surreal quality which often does not complement the “real” elements to make possible multiple interpretations or fuller understanding. Some of his statements are trite. In West Sussex, an exercising gentleman stretches out on his lounge floor with one leg and flexed foot at almost a right angle to the rest of his body. Light from an open window projects his leg as a shadow amidst those of the window panes onto the foreground. His disembodied limb plays hopscotch with the pattern of panes. This second reality causes a closer scrutiny, but doesn’t provide insight into the man. Poole, however, is more successful. Two mannequins in a shop window face each other and gesticulate as if in dialogue. One, dressed as a bride, motions towards a baby in a pram outside the shop. A box of groceries on top of the pram includes a carton of detergent, linking the baby’s future to the mannequin’s make-believe destiny of housewife. The meta phor is too obvious in Sunderland. A bent, old woman walks down the pavement toward a building in shadow except for a crucifix sus pended in mid-air. Poor Sufferer shuffles her way to the road’s end, soon to meet the Allevia tor of misery. This brings us back to square one, Berry’s overall intentions. In the exhibition brochure, he stresses that he is not trying to make “any sort of political statement.” He is “simply an observer . . . photography for me is about communication and unless a picture tells some one something it doesn’t have any real value. If one can create an increased awareness in people of other people’s way of life, I think that’s valuable.” He notes that “it’s difficult to photo graph the so-called upper and upper-middle classes, unless there’s a horse involved . . . ” I find these statements very revealing. Although some may argue that all photographs make political-cultural statements, I believe in another category - statements of personal and private expression. Berry’s portrait of the English falls into neither category. I do not understand what he says about himself, specific individuals, classes, the nation, or even humanity. He has not identified what he wants to communicate. One could say that he means to show the misery of the working class, but he seems to go for the easy shots, the stereotyped posture. He gives the illusion of a deep and widespread study by labelling his pictures with the names of different towns. His photographs of other classes make the portrait more confused. There is no clear connecting thread. He also shows different age groups without making clear connections. Can he be saying that the young dance in their sexuality only to become crippled and bent in their old age? I think that Berry is trying to show too much of the surface of English life, evading the tension of inner turmoil. Ginger Pritchard. A ll photographs reproduced by kind permission of The John Hillelson Agency Ltd. «> CAMERAWORK Factory Photographs is a H alf Moon Photo graphy Workshop Touring Exhibition which was first shown at the Half Moon Gallery in May 1978. The exhibition is by Nick Hedges who is well known for his photographs for Shelter and who was involved in the Problem in the City exhibition (See Camerawork 1) In 1976 Nick Hedges was awarded the West Midlands Arts Fellowship which enabled him to carry out the project which resulted in this exhibition. The photographs were taken in five factories in the Midlands over two years in an attempt, he says: ‘to give recognition to the workers who produce the wealth upon which our society depends.’ Nick Hedges interviewed many of the workers and extracts from these interviews accompany the photographs in the show. He recorded workers’ views on and attitudes to a wide range of issues, including racial discrimi nation, industrial disease, class, pay, socia bility, boredom, loyalty, and the problems of being a working mother. The dimension that the text adds to the exhibition provides a serious challenge to those photographers who insist that their pictures say it all. It is also a reminder that the tape recorder is just as potent as the camera. Born to Work The only thing troubles me as a trades unionist is that all the working people should be treated as the same, all the whites and blacks they should get together first only then can you improve on things, as long as there is a barrier between the working force itself you cannot do much about it, and that involves changing the whole attitude about the immigrant population and that can be done in a good many ways and the media and press play a very large role. Indian Union rep I don’t mind telling you this, but all the white people here have one thing in common whether they are working on the shopfloor whether they are a lawyer, doctor, or a Prime Minister, they have got only one thing in mind and that is to exploit the immigrant as much as you can. They are all united in one thing that is to get the maxi mum work out of them and give them the least pay and facilities. They still tend to use that slavery attitude. Indian Union rep Extracts from the exhibition text:-_________ You’m brought up to go to work, work is something that your father has done, it’s a class thing, you’m used to it, you’m born to it, you must work there’s the social stigma unemployed; you are born to work.” Furnace foreman Its a funny sort of industry you don’t see no rows or anything like that, you never see any upsets or striking, I dare say we have had more reason to go on strike than anyone - the condi tions we work in, but its never come into it. Its like a family aint it, you work 5 blokes to a furnace, your mates here or your mates away you know. And its o.k. if you’ve got a happy crew, I aint being big headed but our crew is the best on the plant. Everybody will do every body’s work, like when I got burnt I was stuck here for a week before I went on the box, and everybody come to me and said ‘don’t go on the box Bill we’ll do that’, they were doing their own and doing mine. If they’re in trouble on ‘G’, ‘H ’ will come and help out, if they’re in trouble on ‘H ’ furnace ‘G’ will help out. Steelworker When I started here and even now after 29 years I’m still a rooky, we are still babies compared to some of the people working here. I’ve had blokes working with me and they were 74 years of age - we had one 82 years of age. When I started you was lucky to get a regular job because you had to wait for them to die before you moved up. It’s the same as in a fishing village, there everyone is a fisherman, the sea is the community; it’s the same in a mining community, the mine is the village, the main topic is the mine; and it’s the same round here, it was a family concern. We had as many as 8 or 9 Barwells working here; you go back 40 or 50 years, if you was a Fletcher you’d be alright when you’d growed up, you’d get a job here; it was a sort of genera tion move up. All my relations worked at the crane foundry, my brother is gaffer there now, there was about 14 Darby’s worked there; I used to work there myself but being as how my brother was gaffer he used to expect more out of me than the others. Blast-furnace worker Being in iron and steel its the best job a man can have, it’s not repetitive, there is always a challenge, there is always something different. I don’t know how these people who do these jobs in car factories, and other jobs can stick it, the sheer boredom would drive you mad. I’ve worked shifts for 42 years, even when I went to India, its got its advantages, you get a fair amount of free time. The wife and family its a bit rough on them. But once you get used to it I think that shift work is better than days. Senior fumaceman I’ve been doing shift work for 24 years and I still don’t like it, especially nights, I always thought that working nights was for cat burglars and midwives. At my age you’ve just got to face the job, I can’t just leave this job now and get another one. Furnace keeper, Steelworks The condition of work is very poor, its dusty it affects your lungs, heat doesn’t bother me much, its what you breathe in. It is grossly underpaid this job, the money is hopeless no good at all. Here to get a good weeks money you have to get 80 or 90 hours in a week. If I worked here for 40 hours in the week, I should only pick population are willing to make concessions and we have made concessions as far as our culture is concerned - our way of living; but we are not getting the same response from the English, its all one sided. Indian steel worker Nick Hedges Front-side steel furnace worker. British Steel Corporation, Bilston. up about £35. You’ve got to work the hours to get the money. There isn’t much chance of improving it now with all this control on the wages. There is an old saying ‘hard work never kills nobody’ but it goes a long way towards it I can tell you that. ‘Fifth’ man on the furnace At any time out there whether morning, noon or night, any of the operators can lose their life. You can be just walking around the furnace and the tuyers blow out and catch you, anything can happen. We missed death by just seconds man, you have to trust your luck coming up these steps. When you are looking at the risks involved, it stands somewhere between a chemical plant and a coal mine. Three men they are still on the ‘box’, badly injured. The furnace burst and a man standing close by catch a’fire, he was blazing, if we lose a second we would be dead. It’s very unpredictable this blast furnace, that’s why it’s being given a woman’s name Elizabeth. Furnace hand My missus is always going mad at me about smoking: ‘You’m going to have lung cancer’. I says: ‘Cock, you come down our place in the shut down (holidays),’ and her come up the back steps with us and her walked in. It was a sunny day, no furnace was on, but you could see stuff coming through the roof. Her got hold of me and she said: ‘Bill, smoke as many as you w ant.’ Front-side steel furnaceman Now I’m getting on and I’ve got industrial disease; what it is, is it’s sand on me lungs, and instead of me lungs being able to function properly I can only take shorter breaths. I used to go dancing ever such a lot, I go on the floor now once or twice and I have to sit down; I used to swim a lot but now I can just about get across the width. If I ever have to do a lot of running about here it can knock me about for half an hour. If I get a touch of flu - I’ve got bronchitis and emphysema an all see - it can knock me about, my legs go. I prefer shift work to day work, I suppose it’s because I’ve done it for so long. I think that Monday to Friday is a rut, I see people, even my next door neighbour, he does the same thing every week year after year, washes his car down on a Sunday - always the same thing. Blast-furnace shift manager We’ve always had a decent bunch of chaps to work with, never had no arguments or any thing. If you ain’t happy your job’s twice as hard, if you’m happy in your work and you’ve got a decent bunch of lads around you who can have a laugh and a joke, it’s the biggest part of working. The hardest part of the job is just being happy. I’ve been lucky in both jobs I’ve had, I’ve always had a decent bunch of chaps. Shearer on Rolling Mill In this steel works which is a government place there is racial discrimination; very vigorous racial discrimination in the works. Now the government policy is that they should have no racial discrimination in no part of society in this country: in this steel works you have more colour bar than in South Africa. The colour bar operates from the personnel office, if you go to some departments here you will see only Englishman or whiteman do that job, and they’ve already laid down that policy that if a blackman come on that section they’ll walk out. Even on the shunting you never seen an Indian or Jamaican on that job, and look how many Indians and Jamaicans are on the yard doing the dirty jobs. Jamaican blast furnace worker There was so much prejudice when we first started to work on this plant, people didn’t regard you as an human being, they regarded you as a fool just born to work and nothing else. But things have changed and we the immigrant What does really annoy me is that everybody seems to run working people down, and when I say working people I include management and directors, because they’re working people as far as I ’m concerned, everybody who is involved in the production of materials is a worker to my mind. The mass media have an awful lot to answer for, everybody talks as if we are the worst people in the Western World. They represent us badly, we’re layabouts to them. The truth is that they never go inside and find out. My own work is monotonous, you’re a cabbage feeding a damn monster, you get to a point when you cannot remember your own name, you are so bored. I’m nearing the end of my working life, just a couple of years to go, I shan’t be pleased to finish. I shall miss the comradeship in this company. It’s a good team in here, and they need to be the girls have to be very skilful and very quick. At the end of the day you feel physically drained when you go home. That is one reason why I feel so strongly about the media, we are small people - we have no means of getting over to newspapers. I’d like to spend one week on a newspaper to put it across to people. They do impugn the honour of working people, notice I say working people not working class, there is no such animal today. Women have gone into factories, gone into offices, gone into shops, and taken lower paid jobs, and we have been brain-washed about our capabilities; I wish I was thirty, oh I do, I’d be fighting like a dog, I wish I was younger to really get in. Because it has only just started for women, we have only come a very very small step, there is far to go. I want to see women on the board, I want to see women superinten dents. But we are on the lower strata of all the gradings, time will alter that, but it is so slow. I wish that I’d been able to get my ladies more interested in trade unions. Woman padlock machiner and shop steward I think it has took a lot out of my life working here, I’ve always been a jolly person and it’s almost as if it’s stopped. I’m a scrat, called a scrat, it means a grabber. You lose a lot of family life, I mean my daughter was nine when I came here; I didn’t want to come to work but you want the luxuries, there is no one there to rub her hair if it is wet. You miss out on all that, I think every married woman worker does. You can’t be here TVi hours a day, go home and do exactly the same work and look after your family in a matter of 3 hours of a night time. You lead two different lives going to work, but I wanted her to look nice. I wanted her to have more than I ever did. But I’m not a nasty person and grabbing, I like a laugh and I like a joke. For a few minutes we have a little laugh and giggle, but then it’s back to bobbing. I thought when I left school. I’m going to meet some handsome fellow and he is going to take me off on his white charger; when you’m at school you think all kinds of things. I was reading my husband’s love letters he wrote to me when he was in the army. I ’d told him I’d had a cold and I had to go to work the next day, he said ‘never mind darling you won’t have to go to work much longer’ - I ’ve worked ever since. When you leave school you start work, it’s fantastic aye it is when you first start work: - you’re getting some money, you can go out, you can buy what you like, then you start courting and you think, ‘ooh I ain’t going to work for long’. I thought this is going to be it when I got married, but it wasn’t like that, nothing at all like that. Woman bobber and polisher ■ CAMERAWORK On Photo montage. Ever since the invention of photography the photograph has been used in combination with both photographic and non-photographic images. The Victorians combined parts of photographs with drawings, paintings, pieces of lace and other fabrics. Oscar Gustave Rejlander and Henry Peach Robinson, amongst others, combined negatives to produce composite pictures in imitation of the classical tradition in painting. It was with the work of the Berlin Dadaists, towards the end of the first World War, that both the technique and the name photo montage were invented. The Dadaists began by using photography in the same way as they used newsprint, graphics, painting and ephemera of all sorts - to produce incongruous, chance images with a multiplicity of meaning and asso ciations. From this developed the realisation of a new technique which had less to do with collage but involved creating a single, realistic image. It was largely with the work of John Heartfield from this period through the 1930s that photo-montage came to be seen as a political and propagandist tool. Although photo-montage uses photography and is dependent on the reality of the photo graphic image photo-montage (particularly political photo-montage) is fundamentally unlike photography in intention and in the way it works. While a photograph may be taken for a number of reasons, the most common one being to provide a record, the intention of political photo-montage is to convey an idea or message. The effectiveness of photo-montage in doing this has resulted in its constant use as propa ganda and as a means to move people to political action. The photograph on the other hand, although frequently used as propaganda, is not generally created to make a political point. The photograph records. This record may be open to misinterpretation and can sometimes be used to illustrate opposed points of view. The way in which photo-montage is created and actually works is a crucial part of its useful ness as a propagandist medium. Unlike a photo graph a montage can show the separate elements of an event and more clearly presents causes and results. The montage artist selects only the information relevant to his/her message and can eliminate the extraneous detail and information w'hich is a crucial part of the photograph. Where a photograph frequently has a number of possible interpretations the message of the montage artist is usually clear. W'hat photo graph could bring together faces of the dis appeared prisoners in Chile and show the role of the army in their disappearance? Photographs of torture, of rape, of murder in Chile simply do not exist. As far as we know they were not taken. Yet the facts are there. Political photo-montage works through the involvement of the spectator. As Eisenstein states in writing on word and image: ‘It is precisely the montage principle, as distin guished from that of representation, which obliges spectators themselves to create and the montage principle, by this means, achieves that great power of inner creative excitement in the spectator which distinguishes an emotionally exciting work from one that stops without going further than giving information or recording events.’ As has often been pointed out photo montage is itself an illustration of the dialectical principle: the idea (or thesis) and its comple ment or opposite (the antithesis) are juxtaposed in the work and the spectator’s involvement produces his/her response (the synthesis). With ‘A Document on Chile’ artist Peter Kennard and writer Ric Sissons aim to create a new method of examining and explaining history by a combination of photo-montage and text. ‘A Document on Chile’ is a Half Moon Touring Show, consisting of thirty panels of image, historical text and quotes from the original sources which trace events in Chile over the years leading up to and immediately after the coup of 1973. Political photo-montage is an immediate medium. Out of the context of its political or historical background it can become inaccessible. However, by using a detailed historical text the context of the work has been maintained. It is difficult to determine the effectiveness of art in political struggle. Obviously no one work of art is likely to bring about major political change by itself. Its role has been propaganda and agitation. The intention of Peter Kennard and Ric Sissons is not only to make propaganda but to inform and educate. By their combina tion of image and text they have shown a way of extending the use and application of photomontage. Shirley Read. THE FIGHT FOR COPPER Copper constitutes 75% of Chile’s exports and is the country’s most important asset. The industry was dominated by two American multinational corporations - Anaconda and Kennecott. On 11th July 1971 the copper mines were nationalised. Both Anaconda and Kennecott took action. Anaconda, along with five other American multinationals met Nixon’s Secretary of State, Rogers, to plan action against the Allende Government. Kennecott used the international courts of law to prevent other firms buying Chilean copper. Over the present century these two firms had made substantial profits from the Chilean mines. Between 1915 and 1968 Anaconda and Kennecott profits in Chile totalled $2,011 million. Because such excessive profits had been made the Allende government decided that no compensation would be paid when the industry was nationalised. They argued that all profits made in the last fifteen years in excess of 12% would be deducted from any compen sation. This figure far exceeded the value of these firm’s assets. Anaconda and Kennecott profitability, 1969. (New York Times. 25.1.71.) Profits %ofworld Profits in Chile profits in Chile worldwide $78,692,000 79.24% $99,313,000 Anaconda $35,338,000 21.37% $165,395,000 Kennecott ‘DISAPPEARED PRISONERS’ lop row, left to right: Jose Fidel Flores Perez, Jacqueline Del Carmen Binfa Contreras, Ugarte Roman Marta, Perevia Plaza Reinalda. Bottom row, left to right: Rosa Elena Morales, Mamia Angelica Andreoli Bravo, Juan Canales. The disappeared prisoners ’ is the name we give to members o f our families who have been taken from our homes, in front o f our eyes, or in their work places, colleges and universities, with eye witnesses or strong proof o f their detention. The people who detained them were members o f the military intelligence service. They are being held in secret and all our efforts, such as writs o f habeas corpus, affidavits o f kidnapping, and letters and interviews with Government officials, have been flung back in our faces with the following answer: This person has never been detained’. There are variations such as: ‘He has left the country’, ‘He has gone into hiding , ‘He has been kidnapped by a band o f extremists’, and so forth.” ‘ Committee of the Families of Disappeared Prisoners, Santiago, June 1975. Photo-montage and text by Peter Kennard and Ric Sissons. » CAMERAWORK Doing-it-Yourself: For many people a photographic exhibition means pristine gallery walls lined with metal-framed, bevel-edge mounted prints. All too often the photographs appear to be hung at random; sequencing and themes are obscure; text and caption ing non-existent; the number and size of prints seems arbitrary. However, there are reasonably cheap and easy ways of exhibiting photographs that can be used to make cohesive statements, whilst making photographic shows accessible to an audience much wider than regular gallery buffs. The HM PW has developed a viable alternative to glass and frames, and we can put a photographic touring show o f 30 panels on the road for less than £180 (excluding the costs o f labour, prints and publicity). Photographs were first exhibited in 1972 in the foyer o f the H alf M oon Theatre - a former synagogue in Alie Street, Aldgate, East London. This soon came to be known as the Half M oon Gallery and has been used for monthly photo graphic exhibitions ever since. Until 1976, all photographs shown at the Half Moon were mounted on card, pinned to the softboard wall panels, and protected with sheets o f glass. This caused problems in touring the exhibitions: prints were toured without glass or frames and soon became tatty and worn. A different method of presenta tion was badly needed. Heat-sealing versus lamination W hile designing the P eople Portraits exhibition in October 1976, we decided to heat-seal the photographs and text. Heat sealing is done with thin, clear plastic film (available in matt, special texture’, and gloss finishes). The pictures and text can be dry-mounted on to mounting board, aluminium or hardboard. We chose hardboard. restriction of most bench-top laminators used by commercial firms. Tabk-Top Luimihating M iAC . aclM Piastre F Im i <m T-eiASioK K f/ .oU Heat&jTsW hkatiiAcj t Pi WOc, filrvi (TO P ressu re R oll- w s fbll<2/ , / Laminated ' p r in t s r W The maximum thickness for lamination is 20/1000” : the combined thickness o f your photographic print, mounting tissue and backing card must not exceed this. A double weight print is 9/1000” thick - likewise a sheet of the 260 gsm Astralux card we use on our panels. T here’ only just enough s room for the mounting tissue, so wherever possible use single weight photographic paper. Medium weight resin coated paper is fine, but if you’ making bromide prints larger than re A4 size use double-weight as it is much easier to handle. Remember that if your final mounted panel is more than 20/1000” thick, the surface o f the laminate will be damaged. The panels have eyelets in the corners for easy hanging with pins, but can also be hung with double-sided tape or stickybud corners. They can be easily transported in a fibreboard box, and a whole cased exhibition o f 30 panels weighs only 16 kgs. Other advantages include clean, simple, unified presenta tion which can overcome the inconsistencies o f virtually any display space, either in or out o f doors. It is important to remember that both heat-sealing and lamination render the prints and texts irretrievable, since the plastic film cannot be removed. pictures to the agreed size. W e’ found that a set o f 5” x 7” ve p roof prints is helpful in designing a show, rather than trying to work straight from contact sheets. W ork out any text or captions you will need before you finalise the picture sizes and panel designs, as you may need to adjust some layouts or picture sizes to make room for the text. Then you decide upon the typeface and size you need; we found that 16pt bold works well in many o f our shows. W e usually have our captions and text done on a photo setting machine, but there is no reason why you cannot use an ordinary typewriter with a legible face, and copy the texts on to line film (high contrast, black & white lithographic film available in 5” x 4” usually, but also in 35mm bulk lengths). These negatives can then be enlarged to the required size and printed on ordinary photographic paper. Typesetting/photosetting will cost around £8 per 1000 words, but will prove less troublesome and much simpler unless you have access to a good copying set-up preferably with a 5” x 4” camera and enlarger. All in all, you’ pay your money and make your choice, ll depending upon the financial and technical resources available to you. Finally, before mounting the pictures/text, it is advisable to lay each panel out individually to make sure the sized prints and texts actually fit together in the way you intended in the original layout. Allow yourself ample time to make any corrections or adjustments, to avoid the possibility o f over looking mistakes which could be easily rectified. Remember also to keep a consistent print quality throughout, since any variation will be distracting. A laminated panel from Shuttles, Steam and S oot by Daniel Meadows Selection & Design The heat-seal film is positioned on each panel, which is then placed under a hard bed mounting press for several minutes. Dry mounting and heat-sealing are both done at 85° -90° C; the heat-sealing must be done under a hard bed press, but dry mounting can be done on a hard or soft bed press. T o avoid peeling at the edges o f the panels it is far better to wrap the heat seal films around the edges, taking particular care with the corners, which can be easily damaged. Hardboard is cheap and fairly durable, but unfortunately it proved too heavy and bulky for flexible use. The People Portraits show, consisting o f 22 panels 21” x 18” , weighs 35kgs including its wooden case - too heavy for one person to carry any distance. The matt-finish, however, proved very effective and with eyelets in all four corners the show is easy to hang, and still touring. Determined to find a more lightweight and portable method o f displaying photographs, we started using plastic lamina tion early in 1977. This process seals the pictures and texts in a gloss finish plastic film, available with clear film on both sides, or with black film on the back. The mounted prints are fed into a laminating machine which uses a series of heating elements and pressure rollers to force the plastic film on to both sides o f the paper. Our panels consist o f a sheet of thin card on to which prints and typeset are mounted. The laminated panels are waterproof and very light: we use 20” x 25” as a standard size because it allows a wide variety o f picture/text designs, and fits comfortably within the 24” width Selection o f material for exhibition will present a number of different problems depending upon who is producing the visual/written material: if you’ working alone on an exhibi re tion project it will obviously be less complex than if you are a group or committee, or organising the v ork of a number of individuals. D ecide firstly what you want the show to be about, ie what will it actually say? It could be the best pictures you have available, or one particular theme. Now is the time to decide before you begin editing. Secondly, calculate how much wall space you want the show to occupy, given that the panels can, if absolutely necessary, be double-stacked. From this you will be able to work out how many panels you require - funds permitting, that is. A portfolio or set o f photographs is just the raw material for an exhibition - editing, design and layout are all essential ingredients in making an informative and worthwhile show. This requires a lot o f work - it’ easy to ruin a good show with s uninspired layouts. Visual dynamics are very important - vary the size o f prints and layout designs, juxtapose prints and relevant text, to enhance and clarify the statement you want to make. Our panel size (20” x 25”) allows print sizes from 20” x 16” down to 5” x 4” (or even smaller) to be used in varying combinations, with text. One simple method o f trying out design ideas is to draw up a one inch grid on white card to the size of the panel, then make cut-outs o f black card to the different print sizes you intend to use. Make three or four o f each size - this will allow you to experiment with various layout ideas before you print up the Mounting Mounting an exhibition will require several basic pieces of equipment: a cutting instrument (rotary trimmer, guillotine, Stanley knife or scalpel and steel straightedge) a steel ruler or tape-measure, a tacking iron, and a dry-mounting press. A box or roll o f dry-mounting tissue is also essential. W e mount our pictures and texts on to Astralux - a thin, white, glossy card - it’ expensive, but gives a very good finish s when laminated. However, there is plenty o f lightweight card to choose from, available in a variety o f colours, finishes, sheet sizes, and at different prices. If necessary, you can always opt-out o f mounting the show yourself, and pay the laminator to do it for you - in accordance with your layout designs. When mounting material for lamination, don’ use t adhesives such as Spraymount, Photo m o u n t, Copydex , Cowgum , P ritt, or even double-sided tape. All of these tend to be unstable under extremes of heat (ie heat-sealing at 8 ° 5 9 ° , lamination at 140° C) and begin to ooze and often become 5 visible at the edges o f prints. The dry-mounting tissue must be tacked to each print/ piece o f text, using a hot tacking iron. There are several methods o f doing this, but here is one that has been well tried and tested. Tack the tissue to the back of the paper by lightly rubbing the hot iron in the centre; be careful not to press too hard or you may burn the print/paper. 9 CAMERAWORK Touring Exhibitions staking process and will require even more patience and care than ordinary procedures. Hanging To hang a laminated show you’ll need a good supply of longshank upholstery pins (available in several colours from all branches of John Lewis), or big drawing pins, and some double-sided tape, or sticky-bud comers. Never use staples or anything else that will damage the plastic laminated panels. You might, however, need some wire or cord if you’re hanging the show from railings or a wire fence. Using laminated pa
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Harry Chambers, Prodeepta Das, Mike Goldwater, Nicky Hughes, Peter Marlow, Sue Marie, Jenny Matthews, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, Siddhiratna, Trev Sparrow, Paul Trevor
      • author_writerTom Harrison, Stewart Mann, Don Macpherson, David Mellor, Charles Madge, Ken Worpole, Andrew Wiard, Tom Picton
      • author_photographerNigel Henderson, Terry Dennett, Humphrey Spender
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweeHumphrey Spender, James Agee, Myfanwy Piper, Kathleen Raine, Christopher Isherwood, Raymond Mortimer, John Parfitt
      • author_organisation
      • tagsmass observation (m.o.),social anthropology,1930s,humphrey spender,documentary,tom harrisson,charles madge,worktown project (bolton),bolton worktown project,consumer research,propaganda,humphrey jennings,nigel henderson,met' cards,n.u.j.,processing,alternative technology,daily mirror,ww2,espionage,the blitz,ministry of information,pubs,advertising,british surrealism,social realism,consensus politics of photography,social survey,colonialism,great depression,julian trevylan,graffiti,'mass observation ltd.',poverty,federal writers' project,the new left,the centre for contemporary cultural studies,richard hoggart,john ruskin,pop art,collage,paul nash,graham bell,judith henderson,censorship,national front,mike abrahams
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 11
      • subtitleIssue 11: Mass Obervation, Humphrey Spender, Nigel Henderson, The Metropolitan Police Card, Inspection Processing
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Tom Harrison, Stewart Mann, Don Macpherson, David Mellor, Charles Madge, Ken Worpole, Andrew Wiard, Tom Picton, Nigel Henderson © Nigel Henderson Estate, Terry Dennett, Humphrey Spender, James Agee, Myfanwy Piper, Kathleen Raine, Christopher Isherwood, Raymond Mortimer, John Parfitt
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 2,3,5,7,8,9,10,11) Bolton, UK (pg 4) Blackpool, UK. USA (pg 14) Brixton, London, UK
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      • origination_date1978
      • origination_year1978
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      • pdf_textHumphrey Spender Funeral Cortege Davenport St. Bolton 1938. Mass Observation Humphrey Spender Nigel Henderson The Metropolitan Police Card Inspection Processing A No 11 Half Moon Photography Workshop 40p/$1.50 Mass Observation was probably the largest investigation into popular culture to be carried out in Britain this century. It took place between 1936 and 1947. Mass Observation was established by a small group of upper-middle class intellectuals and artists, but grew to involve around 1,500 observers from all social classes and from all over the country. They amassed a wealth of infor­ mation on the minutiae of everyday life of the period. During World War II the Government took over M.O.’s fact­ collecting organisation for propaganda purposes and to keep in touch with public morale. After the War M.O. became a limited company and turned to consumer research. Mass Observation described its observers as ‘the cameras with which we are all trying to photograph contemporary life’ but photography itself played a small part in the project and very little film was shot. Humphrey Spender, M.O.’s ‘official’ photographer, was only able to spend short periods of time on the project. The work that he did for M.O. remained virtually unknown for almost forty years until the publication of Britain in the Thirties in 1975 and The Real Thing and Worktown exhibitions. The photographs, observers’ reports and diaries are now part of the Mass Observation Archive at the University of Sussex. AIMS AND ORIGINS “How little we know of our next door neigh­ bour and his habits; how little we know of our­ selves. Of conditions of life and thought in another class or another district, our ignorance is complete. The anthropology of ourselves is still only a dream. It is left to the intuitions of men of genius to cope with the unknown mass. Such intuitions are to a human science of the future what cookery is to chemistry. The building up of such a science is an urgent problem for mankind. “It was with thoughts like these that a group of people started Mass Observation, which aims to be a scientific study of human social behaviour, beginning at home. Such a study has already been begun by anthropologists in the case of primitive peoples, and tentatively by psychologists and sociologists in civilised countries. But in the latter case, the field to be covered is so vast and so apparently nebulous that the scientists have little more to offer than generalisations on method.” (M.O. pamphlet 1937). M .O. was started in 1937 by Charles Madge, poet and journalist and Tom Harrisson, an anthropologist. They and others were aware of the serious gap between what ordinary people, “ the mass” , actually thought and what the press, media and political leaders said they thought. “Mass Observation shares the interest of most people in the actual, in what happens from day to day. Every day the social con­ sciousness is modified by the news reported in the newspapers and on the wireless. The more exciting the news, the more unified does the social consciousness become in its absorption with a single theme. The abdication of King Edward VIII was a focussing point of this kind. The coronation of King George VI is providing another. At such times, our observers will each be watching the social These photographs however, together with the detailed written observations, do provide a valuable insight into the late 1930s and show how Mass Observation influenced the development of documentary realism. In this issue we look at the origins of Mass Observation, its aims, its methods of working, its contribution to the docu­ mentary tradition, its shortcomings and its significance to contemporary culture. In the section below we reproduce parts of the first publication of M.O., the pamphlet ‘Mass Observation’ by Tom Harrisson and Charles Madge. This pamphlet, published in 1937, sets out what they were trying to do and gives a clear picture of the ideas which influenced their thinking. Our interest in M.O. stems from our concern with docu­ mentary photography and the British documentary tradi­ tion. The founders of M.O. believed that it was possible to document in an entirely objective manner and that the wide­ spread collection of data would ‘contribute to an increase in the general social consciousness’ (M.O. pamphlet 1937). In fact what they started was never completed and never used in the way they had anticipated. We believe that to document alone is not enough - the pro­ cess must be taken further and used to effect social change. reactions within their own local environment. They will be the meteorological stations from whose reports a weather-map of popular feeling can be compiled.” (M.O. pamphlet, 1937). the reports from our observers, carefully filed, will be a reference library accessible to every genuine research worker.” (M.O. pamphlet 1937) METHOD In 1937 Tom Harrisson chose Bolton as a town representative of the industrial north to begin M .O .’s research. This became known as the Worktown project and was extended to include the nearby holiday resort of Blackpool. Harrisson was soon joined by a team of observers and artists including the painters Julian Trevelyan and Sir William Coldstream and the photographer Humphrey Spender. The project lasted for two years. The photographs by Humphrey Spender reproduced in this issue of Camerawork were all taken during this period. They were first shown in 1977 as the Worktown exhibition initiated by Derek Smith, then photographer in residence at Sussex University. M .O. set out to give the masses a voice. It did this in three ways:- firstly by inviting ordinary people to report on their everyday lives in diary form. Secondly by recruiting a team of observers whose role was to watch, listen and document all aspects of ordinary behaviour. Thirdly by involving poets, writers and artists in a subjective role to complement the docu­ mentary bias of the observers. The observers simply collected information “On this data science will one day build new hypotheses and theories. In the meantime, we must patiently amass material, without unduly prejudging or pre-selecting from the total number of available facts. All this material, all THE WORKTOWN PROJECT This issue of CAMERAWORK, September, 1978, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photo­ graphy and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photography, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. The people who worked on this issue were Ed Barber, Harry Chambers, Prodepta Das, Mike Goldwater, Nicky Hughes, Peter Marlow, Sue Marie, Jenny Matthews, Richard Platt,Shirley Read,Siddhiratna, Trev Sparrow, Paul Trevor. Printed by Expression Printers Ltd, London N 1. If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute we would be glad to hear from your. Please make sure it reaches us as soon as possible. (ISSN 0308 1676) CAMERAWORK A very public espionage ‘I am a camera with the shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking. Recording the man shaving at the window opposite and the woman in the kimono washing her hair. Some day, all this will have to be developed, carefully printed, fixed.’ Christopher Isherwood in Berlin Stories 1938 ‘The ideal instrument for the job is an ear­ plug,’ Tom Harrisson, one of the founders of Mass Observation, once said. ‘See what people are doing. Afterwards, ask them what they think they are doing, if you like.’ Mass Observation was started in 1937 by an anthropologist, Tom Harrisson, a poet, Charles Madge, and the documentary film maker, Humphrey Jennings. Harrisson and Jennings later died in accidents. Its first book was a ‘mass observational’ study of May 12, 1937, Corona­ tion day for George VI. Humphrey Jennings ‘cut’ together a sequence of extracts from the press and reports from observers. It was edited like a documentary film. Meanwhile, Harrisson was working with a team of volunteers in Bolton. ‘In the early days of Mass Observation from 1937 to 1939,’ Harrisson told Lionel Birch in 1974, ‘when we were studying life in Bolton, we penetrated the environment without anyone realising that we were studying it. We all took jobs locally: I had one with Walls Ice Cream, then in a cotton mill, and as a lorry driver. We were quiet people. You see, if the observer is observed, the observation is probably in­ valid . . .’ ‘And the Blitz. By 1940 we had developed the M .O. structure on a much wider scale. We were ready with a system, and a documentary network of voluntary observers. We had more than 200 of them all over the country keeping day-to-day diaries about what they saw during and after the air raids. Then we had a wider panel of several hundreds, on whom we used to call for specific reports: “This month, report all the graffiti you have seen.” Or “This month report everything you hear said about Hitler. About Churchill. About Jews. Or about Americans.” Wc also had between 15 and 30 paid, trained full-time observers, to cover all kinds of special or local situations.’ ‘We were able to provide a sort of secret service, precisely because we were quiet people.’ Charles Madge recalls that in 1936 he was living in Blackheath, London, near Humphrey Jennings and Stuart Legg, the film makers, and they discussed ‘enlisting volunteers for the observation both of social happenings like the Abdication and also of “everyday life” as lived by themselves and those around them. A short letter was drafted to the New Statesman, asking those interested to communicate with us at the Blackheath address,’ he has written in The Times Literary Supplement. Soon afterwards Harrisson ‘arrived in Blackheath and told us that he had in hand an enterprise that would complement ours - the quasi-anthropological study of the Boltonians by a team of full-time observers.’ The examination of Bolton, or ‘Worktown’, is Mass Observation’s best known enterprise, partly because of Humphrey Spender’s photo­ graphs which were rediscovered by Derek Smith and David Mellor. A group of Harrisson’s friends, artists and social scientists, visited Bolton and Blackpool, gathering a mass of still undigested material. In an introductory booklet to Mass Observation, Harrisson and Madge wrote that it was now possible for the artist and scientist to meet on common ground. ‘We wish to put this assertion to a practical test.’ ‘Worktown’ or Bolton was that test bed. They behaved like spies, sitting in pubs with their stopwatches, timing the seconds it took to down a pint. It was a very public espionage. There is only one domestic interior - a child being bathed in a tin mb - in Humphrey Spender’s photographs of Bolton; otherwise only pubs, churches, election meetings, side shows, funerals, women window shopping. Although some Mass Observers - like Harrisson - took local jobs, they chose to live together at 85 Davenport Street, Bolton. They did not sleep two to a bed, scratching their flea bites in common lodging houses, like George Orwell in his Road to Wigan Pier. It lacked the intimacy of Harrisson in Borneo where he lived with a tribe. Mass Observation chose the cool, mechanical eye. It asked its observers to look at what was in front of them - like so many perambulating cameras. It remained uninvolved, rejecting commitment, remote and alien in the way for which photo-journalists are now condemned. William Stott has suggested that the camera was a prime symbol of the thirties mind. This was not because the mind was endlessly fragmented but ‘because the mind aspired to the quality of authenticity, of direct and immediate experience, that the camera captures in all its photographs.’ Mass Observation reports were verbal snapshots. Before working with Mass Observation, Humphrey Spender took photographs in Whitechapel to arouse fury at the overcrowding, poverty and squalor. His pictures in Bolton could have been examining the quaint customs of the Dayaks. In 1936, Tom Harrisson and Charles Madge wrote: ‘Mass Observation is an instrument for collecting facts, not a means for producing a Kitchen M.O. H.Q., 85 Davenport St. Bolton 1937. (Tom Harrisson reading paper) synthetic philosophy, a super science, a super politics. The availability of the facts will liberate certain tendencies in science, art, and politics, because it will add to the social consciousness of the time. Mass Observation is not a party, a religion or a philosophy, but an elementary piece of human organisation and adaptation. It is one part of a general deflection of emphasis from individual to collective effort.’ ‘It is not enough in itself to ensure mass regeneration, and has no pretence to being the salvation of anybody, either spiritually or poli­ tically. It is each man’s job to find his own salvation as best he can. Mass Observation merely proposes to acquaint him with the relevant scientific facts. It is only through know­ ledge about his environment that man can change it. Whatever the method of change the knowledge is indispensible.’ This political virginity was promptly lost in 1940 when Mass Observation began to work for the Home Intelligence department of the Ministry of Information and Naval Intelligence, reporting on civilian morale. Charles Madge did not approve. ‘When he [Harrisson] told me that he pro­ posed to place himself and M.O. at the disposal of a government department,’ Madge has written, ‘rightly or wrongly I had misgivings and said I would prefer to opt out of M.O. rather than join in what (as I then saw it) looked like a sort of home front espionage.’ He did not want to be a spy. Mass Observation did not want to change the world, they were reformist. They did not examine unemployment in Bolton, infant mortality, malnutrition, housing, health, or any of the parameters of poverty. Their approach was as fatalistic as a photograph. Consider this report from Bolton (November 22, 1938) from the open market: ‘Woman 36. Middle class. Dressed in grey hat, coat, brown shoes, low heels, sour face. Small dog in car. Left car. Entered fish market. Bought fish after some minutes argument about price and quality. Came back to car. Went to veg. stall, bought cauliflower, returned car. Came back, looked at several fruit stalls, argued about price of pears - Humphrey Spender bought six, chose each one, examining them very carefully for bruises, etc. Seven minutes.’ (Most of this could have been said better in a photograph.) Mass Observers were ghosts of those earnest Victorians collecting butterflies, classifying fossils, pressing botanical specimens into their notebooks, but without any theories to tie all the information together. They were part of a documentary movement which worshipped the ‘fact’. ‘Facts’, they believed, would make you free. The back streets of Bolton would be for the Mass Observer what the entrails of the dogfish were for the zoologist. Many Mass Observations dealt with impor­ tant things: funerals and the mortality of prostitutes. Others were slightly dotty. A report (November 9,1937) records one hour’s spittoon observation at Crofters Hotel Vault between 9 and 10pm. ‘Number of spittoons five - three under table and two near bar. Only two of these spittoons were used during my observations.’ Nobody spat in either of the spittoons. Nine matches were thrown, four missed; four cigarette ends, two missed; and ashes missed twice. The time of each throw was noted. Time and motion study was confused with documen­ tary. Another report (September 5, 1937) com­ bined observation with ‘overheards’. (Mass Observers were encouraged to remove those ear plugs.) ‘I arrived at the Victory Hotel at 7.55pm and was surprised to find only one person in the vault, as a rule there are nearly always four in at that time. Up to 8.30pm five people had entered and three matches had been struck. A conversa­ tion developed between three males making munitions. Male One was on holiday from London and was working for a firm there making conveyors for the Government. He said: “They’re not making all this bloody stuff for nothing, it’s only a matter of time before the bubble bursts.” ‘Male Two: “ Well, I don’t think another war will start, now that they’re getting friendly with Italy and Germany.” ‘Male Three: “ Don’t you believe it chum, they’re a cute lot of buggers in this country and they’re only waiting until they’re ready. Why, they’re even making the bloody stuff for them that they’ll be at war with . . .’’’ and so on. The report ended with the inevitable matches: ‘From 8.30pm to 9pm ten matches had been struck.’ Observers went out, pencil and stopwatch in hand. Many were bank or other clerks. Reports varied from the flowery prose of the evening class to the objectivity of the police report or George Orwell. Describing the parlour or best room in a pub one observer wrote: ‘Windows each end of oblong room. Wallpaper floral pattern. Tiled fireplace - over mantle mirror adverts - Father Xmas holding glass saying “ It’s Fullstaff for Me” - another - “ Hard work takes it out of a Man. Beer is best” - another of King’s Arms, Southport, with photos of interior of this place - another - Southport flower show August 25 ’37 with strip Walkers supply licenced bars - framed ad Fullstaff holding pewter pots of foaming beer with print Walkers Fullstaff ales - Smith crisps Eckersleys Grape Fruit Crush, Craven A card, fair maid smoking, woodbine picture.’ There is much more; it continues like an auction cata­ logue. The detail is photographic. Mass Observation restricted its investigations to the lower-middle and working classes. Its concept of ‘mass’ implied a slightly lumpen proletariat different from ‘us’ intellectuals, artists and scientists living in Blackheath or temporarily visiting Bolton. In 1976, Tom Harrisson could write about the ‘mass’ in Living Through the Blitz (Penguin, 1978): ‘They could contribute little more than to muddle through, obey the military law and maybe mutter a little.’ This suggests that the real job of winning the war was being done elsewhere. He was writing about an industrial working class without whose muni­ tions no war would have been possible. The privations of war were not all that bad for the working class, he writes: ‘Putting up with discomfort, enduring economic uncertainty and periods of familiar distress, were built into pre­ war “ working class” experience.’ The poor do not mind being poor, they are used to it. Until 1941, when Germany attacked Russia, authority was afraid of the working class. After Bolton, Mass Observation’s most active role was to help control that class by providing infor­ mation about civilian morale. They were civil spies. Harrisson hints at this fear of working class revolt. ‘Only one element in the popula­ tion even began to look as if it could conceivably organise any public opposition to the war: the Communist Party of Great Britain. But it was deeply uncertain of its position, as at first Russia and Germany were “allies” . It became the most patriotic of groups once Germany attacked Russia.’ Let Charles Madge sum up. ‘In the very beginning [Mass Observation] had a poetic side, a potential which was never realised. In any rigorous sense it was disappointing also on its scientific side, notable more as a trail-blazer and trend-setter than for dependable, organised results and findings.’ Tom Picton All pictures by Humphrey Spender reproduced by courtesy of the Tom Harrisson-Mass Observation Archive in association with Humphrey Spender except where otherwise credited. With thanks to Dorothy Wainright and the Mass Observation Archive, Unversity of Sussex. With thanks to Julian Trevelyan, Humphrey Spender and Anthony D’Offay for permission to reproduce pictures on pages 3 and 6. Research by Derek Smith, Nick Stanley and Shirley Read. The Worktown exhibition and catalogues are available from the Gardner Arts Centre, University of Sussex. 3 CAMERAWORK Leaving the mill. Bolton 1937 Humphrey Spender Humphrey Spender Bolton 1937 Humphrey Spender Cotton weaver. Bolton 1937 Humphrey Spender Canvassing. Bolton 1937 Humphrey Spender Reproduced by permission of Anthony D’Offay Canvassing. Bolton 1937 4 CAMERAWORK Blackpool 1937 Julian Trevelyan Mass Observation: The Intellectual Climate Mass Observation constitutes a substantial but almost entirely forgotten episode in British cultural history at the end of the 1930s, involv­ ing photography as well as film and painting. It was an episode that can perhaps be understood as a complex of contemporary forces: populism, statistical social surveys, Surrealism, naive Realism, anthropology, investigative reportage and Documentary impulses. It cannot be characterised simply as an epiphenomenon of the larger Documentary movement in Britain in the thirties; more likely it was the focus and climax of thirties’ Documentary in Britain. One factor is striking amongst the precondi­ tions of Mass Observation’s formation: Victor Gollancz the publisher, seeing the success of Documentary books in Britain, and that Docu­ mentary was in the ascendent as a genre, was willing to finance Tom Harrisson - one of Mass Observation’s (M.O.) three founders - in Bolton in 1936. Once Harrisson was there he also arranged donations from liberal northern industrialists such as Sir Thomas Barlow KBE and Sir Ernest Simon. In the United States it was industrialists such as these who were putting financial backing behind photo-Documentary books like Faces We See(l), a book which is an exactly parallel project to Spender’s photographs - for it too is concerned with cele­ brating a people working in an area dominated by the cotton industry, but in North Carolina rather than Lancashire; people at work; at home; their habits and customs. The search for affirmative images of labour and citizenship was a definite populist compo­ nent of the Documentary genre at the close of the thirties and on into the forties in Britain and the United States. Many of the inner core of M .O ., including some of its founders, even if not actually born in the Empire, were either Colonials or associated with it. Tom Harrisson, for example, was the son of General Harrisson who had built the Argentinian railway system, and had spent all his time in Argentina, which was then virtually a British colony. His son was shaped by the Imperial tradition of exploration and administration despite his subsequent rebellion against paternal and authority figures. behind much German photography in the 20s and 30s (behind August Sander, for example) as well as being at the base of the Documentary movement in film in Britain with Grierson’s intention to domesticise Flaherty’s ethno­ graphic work. Harrisson had first encountered the Spender family on the 1933 Oxford Univer­ sity expedition to the New Hebrides. During this Harrisson saw Michael Spender (the expedition’s photographer) record Oceanic patterns of culture by camera. Only in 1937, did Harrisson seek out Michael’s brother, Humphrey Spender, as the photographer to survey cultural patterns in Bolton and Blackpool. But by then there was a different intellectual climate. During the late thirties, the high years of M .O ., there was a recoil from Europe (Spain especially) and the World on the part of the younger British intelligentsia, and a return home. The high-bohemian idyll of the Mediterranean no longer had any economic underpinning; colonial adventure had subsided. This recoil to home involved, in part, the exploration of the unknown British interior, already made ‘foreign’ by the ravages of the Depression, distanced by class barriers and thereby populated by ‘a race apart’. It was no coincidence that this was the sort of imaginary scene with which Raymond M ortimer introduced Bill Brandt at the outset of the photobook The English at Home (1936): One o f the pleasures o f being English is to return to this country after a longish time . . .for an hour or two you have caught a surprising vision of your country and your countrymen, you have noticed a hundred details that are peculiar to England; you have, in fact, been able to look through foreign eyes. Mr Bill Brandt is British by birth but has spent most o f his life abroad. . . shows himself to be not only an artist but an anthropologist. He seems to have wandered about England with the detached curiosity o f a man investigating the customs of some remote and unfamiliar tribe.(2) Charles Madge, the poet and Daily Mirror reporter, was South African, as was Graham Bell, the Social Realist painter. Expatriate de­ tachment gave them a vantage onto British cul­ ture from an imagined ‘exterior’, alien, terri­ tory. Indeed Harrisson encouraged Humphrey Spender to figure himself in the role of exploring ethnographer in a foreign country. By the time Harrisson was settled in Bolton in late 1936 and about to join forces with others to found M .O ., the model of the privileged expat­ riate returning home on a redemptive journey into the British interior was established and, significantly, also established within the marketable and expanding genre of Documen­ tary photo-books. Together with the rise of Documentary as a form and a genre there is also the rise of market research (the first extensive Persil survey by Lintas had been in October, 1933). Ethnographical and anthropological aims lay As a methodology, asking people questions about their habits was novel and appealing: public opinion polls were also very rudimentary but were another source for M.O.’s drive to collect facts and statistics from individuals. M.O. was a hybrid phenomenon composed of disparate factors. It amalgamated not only public opinion polls and market research, but also anthropology into a framework where an ‘anthropology of ourselves’(3) seemed potential. Endorsement came early for M.O. from Professor Bronislaw Malinowski, the leading anthropologist in England; at least part of the conceptual thrust behind Spender’s photograph The Wayside Pulpit, Bolton (1937) may be anthropological in origin. At first there is the ironic level - of an uplifting sign for Harvest Thanksgiving in an overwhelmingly gloomy industrialised vista. Beyond this was the anthropological image - the photograph as data, An Observation. 26.4.1938 Moor Lane Market There was only Taffy with an audience which comprised of 16 women 22-48 and 9 men 40-55, two children, girls 7, and Observers. Taffy had two men 26,27, helping Taffy 55. “ Look here Mrs. only 2Vzd . . . these . . . they’ve never bin offered at this price before see feel at ’em only Vzd . . . why damn it have your bloody at home or do you want me to give you the damn stuff “ Hello Mrs . .. haven’t seen you for a week or two now, how's your hubby?. . . Well ladies here we are, look at these lovely undies, fit for the Queen, in fact they're better than the Queen’s, only 1/6d. No dammit I'll treat you ladies, 1/3d - who wants one? Yes there’s a lady there; thank you lady you've got a bargain. as evidence on the manner in which agrarian rituals like Harvest Thanksgiving are sustained in an industrialised society. Through his advance from Gollancz, Tom Harrisson was living in Bolton in late 1936, making an impressionistic social survey based on his work as a lorry driver and in the cotton mills. At the same time a group of London intel­ lectuals, Jennings, Madge, David Gascoyne, Stuart Legg and Kathleen Raine, the majority of them Surrealists, began the investigation of how contemporary public opinion interacted with widely held phobias and desires. They were interested in events such as the burning of the Crystal Palace which took place at the end of 1936 - what might it signify to the British collective imagination and what psychological and political resonances would such an apo­ calyptic image have? From a Surrealist and Freudian point of view public and political images were seen to have an unconscious psychological dimension. And the London group were concerned with constructing mean­ ing from such mass-circularised images of public events or ‘fictions’ as Walter Lippmann had called them,(4) that were interiorised from newsreels and headlines. Thus the first M.O. publication in June 1937 opened with such a ‘fiction’ - a facsimile reproduction of the Daily Mirror’s headline on the abdication of Edward VIII in December 1936. At the very beginning of 1937 this London group wrote a letter to the New Statesman; Harrisson came down from Bolton and they immediately combined. M.O. was formed and immediately appealed through the newspapers for volunteers and observers who would report on their daily lives, fantasies, dreams and work. Harrisson returned to Bolton while Madge directed the London group from Blackheath, Jennings remaining with them for the rest of 1937. Their book on the coronation of George VI in May 1937, May the Twelfth, was their first major composite work and it was primarily arranged by Humphrey Jennings. This was the occasion when candid Leica photography was first pressed into service for an M.O. survey, when Jennings not only noted down all the overheard remarks in crowds, the music and noise of the day that he heard but he also photographed the coronation crowds and their reactions to the day’s events. His technique, the same employed by Spender a few months later on his first visit to Bolton, was one of participant observation. The mass observer became akin to the peeking, spying creature ‘Public Busybody No 1’ announced by the Daily Mirror and personified in a photo of Tom Harrisson himself in a mackintosh with notebook in hand squinting through a keyhole.(6) The point of view was covert: that of the voyeur, the eavesdropper who overheard and oversaw - the point of view from which Spender took the photograph, Funeral, Davenport St. Bolton, (1938), by the shoulder of a mourner. The image of ‘social detection’ began to be important to M .O .’s reputation (a reputation which was to be fuelled by the scandal of social spies in our midst noting and recording everyday life). But as Harrisson and Madge wrote: in the detection we wish to practise there is no criminal. . . collective habits and social behaviour are our field o f enquiry. (7) It was to be ‘A Nationwide Intelligence Service’,(8) which discovered, co-ordinated and fed back opinions and views in a mass society. To some extent it succeeded; findings, besides being published in M.O. books and newsletters became widely publicised as a best-selling Penguin Special, Britain, in Daily Mirror and Picture Post features and in frequent BBC broadcasts. And Tom Harrisson quickly became a personality on the newly opened BBC television service. There seems no question that Tom Harrisson was a charismatic person who acted as publicist and magnet. Members of the London arts/ politics bohemia were drawn up to Bolton through his intervention, among them Richard Crossman, Tom Driberg, Julian Huxley and the painters Sir William Coldstream and Julian Trevelyan. He also attracted the interest of men like Walter Hood, an unemployed miner who joined the Bolton social survey. Bolton was chosen by Tom Harrisson for reasons which illuminate the mentality of M.O. extremely well.(9) He had spent a long while in Melanesia in the South Pacific and discovered that the only thing the natives knew about Britain was the identity of the Unilever combine which had large chemical interests in their island. Fascinated by this commercial and imperial link, he decided to return to Britain, back to the birthplace of Lord Lever - in Bolton - to the source of that particular imperial net­ work. The symbolic expression of economic forces obsessed him. He found, for example, Lanca­ shire George Formby’s hit record Hindoo Man meaningful as another cultural interconnection between the contracting staple industry of Bolton, cotton, and the Indian subcontinent with its own burgeoning cotton industry.(10) In the thirties, during the period of economic depression, a generation of photographers, film­ makers and painters were under severe economic pressures. Amongst the generation of mainly middle-class students who left the Slade or the Architectural Association between 1929 and 1935, many failed to find traditional employment. Humphrey Spender was one of them. Coming from an upper-middle-class background he found himself a job as a news­ paper photographer (for the Daily Mirror) by 1935; he had become declasse and propelled into the mass media along with such dis- CAMERAWORK Wayside pulpit. Bolton 1937 tinguished contemporaries as W.H. Auden, Sir William Coldstream, John Armstrong, Anthony Powell and others. This moment then, around 1935-7, entailed a shift in self-image for some photographers and painters, a change from bohemian models of the artist to one representing the values of corporate responsibility. It was a shift summarised in Myfanwy Piper’s remark, We are more serious now, not really playboys but agents.( 11) In the guise of ‘agents’ rather than privileged bohe­ mians a greater mobility to cross class barriers was gained. The metaphor of the artist as agent coalesced with that of the reporter, the ‘Public Busybody No. T, who investigated the social landscape in the service of a communalist ideo­ logy of mass observation. Something which loomed large in the icono­ graphy of arts and letters between the wars was the industrial wasteland, and Bolton appeared to Spender to belong to this iconographic type. It had originated with Eliot in 1922 but Auden refined and systematically developed in his poems the idea of the landscape of Britain as semi-derelict. That iconography of industrial dereliction intrigued Spender because it accorded with much that he saw in actuality on his photo tours for the Daily Mirror and later on Humphrey Spender Picture Post. In his photographs, industrial ruin or urban decay was presented diagnostically. Although Bolton was not economically devas­ tated its cotton industry was declining and there was 10% unemployment in the town at the time of the M.O. survey. Making lists or collecting data on everyday mass culture was part of the M.O. ethos of ‘social detection’. So much so that data collec­ tion was seen by Madge, Harrisson and Jennings to be the overriding need in the first year. This was a pronounced drive towards the model of scientific observation of which Harrisson’s earlier interest in ornithology was one source, combined with an appeal to imper­ sonal technical equipment - especially the camera - to objectively observe and record. Madge singled out Duchamp as the one modernist who had succeeded in becoming a scientist^ 12) and in this area we should recall Auden’s preference, at this time, for ‘clinical’ writing. Yet ‘fact’ could be accorded a Surrealist status, too, by the photographers within M.O. Madge and Harrisson had admitted the revela­ tory value of fact in 1939: the drab and sordidfeatures of industrial life will take on new interesf .(13) The Surrealist aesthetic category of ‘the Quack hair specialist. Happy Homes Exhibition. Bolton 1938 marvellous’ could be attained through direct urban photographs, were found social objects uncovered by surveys could be transformed into Surrealist objet trouves; a mobile tea van shaped as a giant tea-pot photographed by Julian Trevelyan in Blackpool in 1937 was one such. Any discussion of Surrealist determinants on the M.O. photography of Spender or Trevelyan returns us to the figure of Humphrey Jennings. He was a most formidable power in British vanguard art in the 1930s; a film-maker, painter, photographer and poet who was admired and had his works collected by leading continental Surrealists:- Breton, Aragon and Magritte. Jennings’ acute understanding of the effects of photo-mechanical reproduction and the effects of mass circulation photography was made from a standpoint close to that of Walter Benjamin (Jennings actually wrote on the optical unconsciousness along similar lines to Benjamin). While M.O. may have aimed at the produc­ tion of American-type photo-books like Archibald MacLeish’s Land of the Free, almost all of Jennings, Spender and Trevelyan’s photo­ graphs taken on surveys went unpublished. They became, especially in Jennings’ case, homeless photographs unmarried to the written Humphrey Spender statistics and opinions that were being recorded on the occasion the photographs were taken. It was only in Jennings’ film Spare Time and Spender’s Picture Post city photo-tours with a journalist - both projects of 1939 - that M.O. fully deployed its methods of domestic anthro­ pology and candid reportage; the war foreclosed further developments. The kinds of Surrealist photography and poetry that Jennings propounded lie behind other sectors of M.O. activities. Volunteers were from early days often directed towards street graphics - chalkings and graffiti in particular. The Surrealist poet David Gascoyne, as well as Jennings, brought an interest in graffiti to M.O.; writing of him during his enthusiasm for M.O., Kathleen Raine believed: the poet reassumes the ancient role at once of national prophet and reader of the augures, not from entrails but from, literally, the writing on the walls.(15) Both Jennings and Spender had been inspired, too, in their photographs by Brassai’s portfolio of graffiti photographs that had been published in Minotaure, the Surrealist maga­ zine, in 1933. M.O. was permeated by communalist and populist ideology; its formation was precipi­ tated by the failed populist movement surrounding the abdication crisis in December, 1936. Independent of one another Madge and Harrisson, in London and Bolton, recognised the existence of a gap between the actual views of individuals, the ‘ordinary’ people, and published opinion presented as public opinion in newspapers, radio and newsreel during the crisis. Thereafter M.O. repeatedly fore­ grounded the ‘ordinary chap’ and ‘ordinary people’, the undistinguished members of the mass of the population. They, often lowermiddle-class in background, found their habits, work routines and leisure activities valued and recorded through interviews or their own self reports. The film Documentarists among M.O.’s founders, especially Grierson’s colleague Stuart Legg, stressed the populist idea of ‘citizenship’ while Arthur Elton and Edgar Anstey had already (in 1934) placed slum dwellers in front of cine-cameras for the film Housing Problems, and let them tell their own story, virtually make their own film. (16) Similarly ‘nobodies’ found a voice through M.O., just as ‘nobodies’ had been the chosen photographic subjects in the early 1930s of the humanitarian German photographer admired by Spender, Helmar Lerski.(17) For, apart from one or two German emigres arguably no photographer in Britain other than Humphrey Spender had such an intimate knowledge of the modes of German realist photography. Again Spender exactly fitted and reproduced the complex ideology of M.O. David Mellor David Mellor was co-organiser of The Real Thing, Cityscapes and Worktown exhibitions. He helped Tom Harrisson establish the MassObservation Archive at the University of Sussex where he is a lecturer in the history of Art in the School of English and American Studies. He is currently editing a book of documents and essays on German photography 1927-1933. FOOTNOTES 1. Mildred Gwin Barweil Faces We See, pbd The Southern Combed Yarn Spinners Association, Gastonia, North Carolina 1939 (‘the facts in this book were taken from actual mill records [and] from innumerable conversations’). 2. Raymond Mortimer in Bill Brandt The English At Home, Batsford, 1936, pp3-4. 3. Bronislaw Malinowski, A Nationwide Intelligence Service, essay in Charles Madge and Tom Harrisson ed. First Year’s Work in Mass Observation Lindsey Drummond 1938. 4. For a discussion of ‘fictions’ see the influential opening of W. Lippmann Public Opinion 1929 George Allen & Unwin. ppl4-19. 5. ‘Confronted with these headlines, a nation of 50 millions gasped with astonishment. . .’ Mass Obser­ vation, 1937, p.9. 6. Daily Mirror 6 December 1938. 7. Mass Observation, p.30. 8. See note 3. 9. See Harrisson’s own account in Britain Revisited, Gollancz 1961, pp.25-6. 10. Interview with the Author, July 1973. 11. Myfanwy Evans, The Painter’s Object, Gerald Howe, 1937, p.3. 12. Mass Observation, 1937 p.26. 13. Mass Observation, 1937, p.31. 14. Harrisson was impressed by the Time review of Land of the Free 25.4.38. 15. Kathleen Raine’s essay David Gascoyne and the Prophetic Role p.48 in Defending Ancient Springs, OUP 1967. 16. Edgar Anstey in an interview with the Author, July 1978. 17. Lerski’s photobook Kopfe des Alltags pbd Hermann Reckendorf 1931, was very influential, not only for Spender but for other British photographers including Barbara Ker-Seymor. 0 CAMERAWORK Mass Observation: Limited Humphrey Spender: M.O. Photographer M .O . is now a London based consumer research organisation. Shirley Read spoke to John Parfitt, Managing Director o f Mass Observation Ltd. Humphrey Spender was the official M.O. photo­ grapher. The following conversation is extracted from interviews with Humphrey Spender by Derek Smith and 'Torn Picton. What are the links between Mass Observation in the ’30s and Mass Observation Ltd now? The transition to Mass Observation as a company today occurred in a fairly gradual fashion. During the war it became part of the war machine. It was both an instrument of recording the population’s reactions in hard times and also for understanding how best to put propaganda over to people. But when the War ended then commercial life began again with the opportunity to sell, as distinct from merely provide, the population with products. A lot of the companies that had been linked, either through interest or even possibly through direct financial help, in the earlier period of Mass Observation began to ask M.O. to carry out surveys for them. The objectives of course being much more precise, and relating to specific marketing problems. Mass Observation formed as a company in 1948, although its prime purpose was still very much social research. Gradually, because of where its income came from, the work of the company evolved into consumer research finding out what people want, how the markets are, what sort of products they like, dislike and so on. The real growth of market research began after the War. Mass Observation, because it was already in existence and had a lot of experience of carrying out survey work, along with other companies, in fact evolved consumer research as we understand it today. What areas do you deal with now? The research we carry out now differs in rela­ tion to the research the original M.O. did in two quite distinct respects. One is that it is much more geared to research for commercial companies, although not by any means exclu­ sively. The other main difference is in research methodology. In the late 1930s research metho­ dology was pretty primitive really. Looked at from a technical point of view one would be very hesitant to adopt the same methods now, largely because of the techniques of sampling - that is how you pick the people that you include in your survey. I think today we have a much stronger understanding of the bias that you can build into surveys if you don’t pick your samples carefully. Another difference is in the techniques of gathering information. Basically today the main methods of gathering informa­ tion are by structured interview, that is you prepare questions beforehand of what you want to ask and then you ensure that everyone in your survey is asked the same question in the same order, so as to avoid bias in the interviewer. It’s also of course because you need to tabulate the results efficiently and pre-structured question­ naires allow you to do this. If you have just masses of notes of what people said it is very difficult to summarize the information. So the difference between research techniques in the traditional days of Mass Observation and now are primarily that we know a great deal more about how to gather information. We’re perhaps a great deal less romantic and much more mundane in our methods. But we carry out six or seven hundred surveys a year and there isn’t time for the sort of preparation that would have gone into some­ thing like the survey in Bolton for instance which was a product of a period of greater leisure in a way. In those days the methods were extremely interesting but sometimes you are left wondering a little whether the technique was perhaps necessarily the best way of getting to the root of the problem. Sitting in pubs listening to what other people say is no doubt fascinating, but you don’t know what people who did not go to pubs were saying or you don’t really know the seriousness of what they were saying, you can’t distinguish between small talk and perhaps a summarization of their real thought. The surveys, though, were filling an enor­ mous vacuum of ignorance about what ordinary people thought about a whole range of subjects. The fact that they supplied such fascinating and often extremely important information on those things was an enormous step forward in itself. It was information that society badly needed, and I think society has never been the same since. It opened up completely new worlds which, in their turn, must have influenced the way poli­ ticians thought, the way planners thought, and so on- So Tom Harrisson’s achievement is far greater than anything that we achieved on any of our more limited survey work. He was laying the foundation stone which is a totally different task and calls for different techniques. So you had a foundation to work from? Not in any direct material sense. Only in the very general influence which they must have had on all of us without knowing it, which is that we took for granted that you should measure what went on in society. In that period of time thinking about measurements had changed fundamentally from a total lack of realisation that you should measure anything to a point where you assumed that measurement was necessary, and it was only a question of how you did it. So, in that sense, yes, a direct inheri­ tance from the sort of work that was done. The observers themselves seem to have been very articulate people. Would it be a mistake to see them as average people? Yes. This is true in two quite distinct respects. The people who were the team were un­ doubtedly more than averagely articulate and educated, certainly by the standards of the 1930s. The other side of it is the diaries that were kept. People kept diaries to record people reacting to last night’s bombing or to the poster on eating more potatoes or whatever. These diaries were all collated in Mass Observation and reports prepared, presumably for the respective ministries to give them some indica­ tion of what the population was thinking. I would hazard a strong guess that many, if not all, of the people who filled in those diaries were far more articulate than the population as a whole. Simply because the actual task of filling in your thoughts, writing on paper, sending them on regularly is just something that most people even today wouldn’t do. They wouldn’t know how to begin. It’s a reason why we use structured questionnaires to overcome the problem that if you want to ask questions and you leave it too open ended - as with a diary - it is only the articulate that can give you an answer. Do you know anything about how M.O. was financed? Although a lot of it was financed by charities and people interested in what Tom Harrisson was trying to do I would imagine that raising the funds sometimes must have been quite a problem. Certainly as far as you can understand from talking with the people who were concerned with Mass Observation in those days the supply of money ran out quite often. I’m sure it wouldn’t have deterred Tom who had scant regard for where the next sum of money was coming from. One gets the feeling that people well may have been tramping the streets of Bolton gathering the information and probably for reasonable periods of time financ­ ing themselves while they did it in the hope that someway or another they’d offset their expenses at the end. Perhaps the opportunity for that kind of research has not occurred again? Yes, I think that’s probably true. In the sense of exact copies of the research Mass Observation did then clearly that’s not happening at all. But in the sense of the tradition of exploring things which may have no financial or administrative advantage the commercial companies, who do a great deal of social research, are not in a position to do this. Most of the time they have to know where the money is coming from for a particular job. That leaves a vacuum of serious social studies:- of the way society changes, the way it thinks, the way it views the political structure, its aspirations and its frustrations. All of these things remain unmeasured when they could be measured. In so far as anyone measures them then there is work that goes on in universities that may well piece together some parts of this. But I think that politicians would prefer not to have things measured because I think they believe they are the links between people and government and if you go around measuring and find that what they are saying is not what people appear to want then clearly that could be embarrassing. Nobody would put the money up to carry out these studies. That, I think, is a great tragedy because we could now - 1 say we, I mean univer­ sities as well as research companies - could in fact do very thorough jobs in the whole area of advising, of providing a link between the popu­ lation as a whole and the people who govern. For one reason or another people evidently here I mean the government - don’t want the information. Tom Harrisson didn’t consult any governments, he gave them the information. There lay the difference. How did you get involved with Mass Observation? Tom Harrisson was searching around for people who would work for nothing and somebody must have coughed up my name as an idiot who would be likely to work for nothing. There wasn’t any money, Tom just had no money. I was very intrigued by him himself, he had that kind of magnetic personality. My first connec­ tion with Harrisson was that he had been with my elder brother Michael on a University exploratory expedition. He knew you primarily as a photographer? He knew I was very interested in photography and had probably seen some of my work for the Daily Mirror particularly the work which wasn’t published which attempted to be a sort of social documentary. Where would he have seen that? By coming to the family house and meeting me, saying,‘What are you up to?’ He suggested, ‘You’re a photographer, you’ve got exactly the right kind of equipment, one of the few people who is using an easily concealable camera, come down to join this team.’ He seems to have decided I took good photographs and that I’d be useful to his project and so he got me involved. This was very much a spare time thing as far as I remember. I was working for the Mirror. How did you organise this time? for long stays or at intervals? I went up at intervals but I tended to stay for anything from five days to about three weeks. I spent about 20 weeks in odd expeditions in all. But I couldn’t do a tremendous amount there simply because I was working for free. Had you visited Bolton before this? No, never. For the Mirror I had been up to Tyneside and had been rather horrified by what I’d seen there. I think my pictures of unemploy­ ment on Tyneside were taken before the Bolton pictures and in fact it may have been some of these that made Tom think I was suitable for this. This was obviously unfamiliar territory. Did you and the others look upon this as some sort of expedi­ tion? I was very intrigued by one thing that Tom said which now of course seems incredibly obvious but didn’t seem obvious in those days. It’s a theme that’s been very much exploited since. Tom said it was that, here we are all studying the behaviour of what we think are simple and primitive peoples, when our own behaviour in our own country is, just as peculiar, just as extraordinary if one stands outside it and watches how people behave. I remember him particularly illustrating that sentence. He pointed to the sawdust on the floor of a pub and the spittoons which were standing around and he said ‘Who would think for instance that spitting is a kind of ritual in itself, spitting is a prepared-for ritual? - look at the sawdust. Probably somewhere on the wall you will find a notice which says ‘penalty for spitting 40 shillings.’ Would you go out more or less on a set assignment? with a list o f things wanted? He wouldn’t actually set them out. He’d get wild enthusiasms like there are 70 religious denominations represented each by a different building in Bolton. He’d say, ‘there’s Total Immersion, Bethel Evangelical or Four Square’ . . . he’d go off into hysterical lists of things and get us all laughing . . . ‘all these things need photographing go to Bethel Evangelical, go to whatever you can find, get yourself chucked out.’ I did sit and write out the sociological events that obviously had to be covered, not necessarily that I wanted to cover or thought would make good photographs. I used my own initiative after Tom’s initial suggestions. All the processional stuff was produced by Tom’s own research, he was fascinated by the whole idea of the equivalent of people wearing masks in places like New Guinea. So this was very much an ordered assignment? It was to a certain extend an ordered thing but one’s owrn work produced its own sequence. You might for instance have been given the brief of a restaurant, photograph people sipping their cups of tea, the way they are holding their little fingers out, this then suggests a whole sequence of things, what about fish and chip shops, what about really smart restaurants, what about night-time roadside snack stalls? So imme­ diately you were in for a lot of stuff. And of course when you think of it in that way, these photographs are not adequate - we didn’t really do enough. There should have been five photo­ graphers’ working, not one. Did you treat the work more as reporting or as an artist? Were you considered on a par with Trevelyan and Coldstream? Tom thought of the photographic side as very important but saw it as pure recording. I was prepared to accept that. I did a lot of drawing and painting as well in Bolton. When I was taking a photograph I found I could visualise what the final appearance would be in the print. I always knew where it was going to fail and since it is my nature to be aware much more of failure than success I would always go on, I would wait and with a lot of patience and I was always aware of the formal qualities of the thing. I was always seduceable by the idea of a ‘good’ photograph. Tom said he published fourteen books, presumably at that period. Were your photographs being used at that time? Only two books used the photographs. Normally. M.O. didn’t have enough money and apparently it wasn’t considered to have enough importance to involve the cost of reproducing photographs and the curious thing is up till recently nobody has taken very much notice of the photographs. But did Harrisson ever talk about why he was having you take the pictures? What was the reason if he wasn’t using them at the time? He had a really great awareness of history in the making and as an anthropologist he realised how significantly and rapidly our society is changing and how very soon this kind of record would be very valuable. When you took the pictures what happened straight away? I would process them and show them to Tom who was always extremely enthusiastic. He saw things in them that I have to admit I hadn’t always seen myself. It was his enthusiasm and appreciation that kept me at it. He was able to see what we took for granted, ordinary beha­ viour, in a very interesting way. He would say, ‘you go and photograph that’ and he would know a lot about the social behaviour and rituals that were involved. It seems to me that a lot of the things that the Mass Observers were engaged in, the process of writing endless details and descriptions of how something appeared for example, could have been done much more easily with a camera. Pm surprised that they didn’t use photography more. Tom did want more photographers to work for Mass Observation. He was desperately trying to get photographers to work. But then there weren’t nearly so many people who could use a camera in that kind of way. I had done a lot of photography. I had been one of the first photo­ graphers to press for the use of miniature cameras when I was with the Mirror, in the early thirties and had had quite a lot of experience with the Leica, had already had to go through this secret thing. Your Bolton pictures are probably very different from what you would have produced on a Daily Mirror assignment? My Bolton pictures would have been completely useless to the Mirror. I can think of three pictures, one of the hair specialist for example, which might have been used for its comic appeal. What tore me to shreds on the Mirror was that they gave photographs such appalling captions. Even if I did get a photograph that met all my own requirements they would caption it in such a way that it simply told the wrong kind of story. I believe you got into hot water at the; Mirror through respecting other peoples feelings? They just thought I was absolutely useless as an ordinary press photographer because they knew I would always have too much inability to over­ ride those kinds of feelings. You were in fact sacked from the Mirror. What was the occasion o f your being sacked? Through my brother Stephen I once had lunch with Edith Sitwell and by some coincidence the 4 CAMERAWORK Humphrey Spender The Vaults, unidentified pub. Bolton 1937 next day the art editor got me round and said ‘Edith Sitwell is at an exhibition in the Leicester Galleries wearing an unusual hat covered with strawberries or cherries or something. A comic hat. Go and take her photograph, we want a photograph of her looking as comic as possible. In other words the public’s idea of an eccentric poetess. Get that as much as you can. I sort of said I feel I can’t do that, it just so happens that I had lunch with her yesterday. He said ‘what absolute nonsense what I tell you to do you do, if your brother was lying in Piccadilly Circus in a pool of blood you would go and photograph him. ’ I just said ‘not me’, so he said ‘as far as I’m concerned yur job is finished.’ Very shortly after that Tom Hopkinsion got in touch with me and said ‘start with us on Picture Post.’ An O bservation. 15.11.1937 Choice of Job. Hilda said - quite spontaneously - “ I wish I could get out of this mill. I'd like to work in a shop. Marks and Spencers best, but I wouldn't really mind. It’s clean and quiet and interest­ ing. They just don’t ask you at school, they send you where there’s room. Emily said “ I’d rather be in a shop, but my best friend at school came here, so I followed her.” Lily said ‘Td rather be in a mill any day.” (Her husband is a butcher and there is no need for her to go on working.) She said “ I curse it every time I pass the watch-house but I d hate to go.” Could we talk about specific photographs now? These men on the bus must be the classic Mass Observation image, a literal eavesdropping on their conversation. One can imagine another Mass Observer taking down what they actually said. But what would prompt you to take certain pictures? Simply the general feeling that I was obliged to take photographs of every day scenes, of people everywhere. Tom literally did say things like go into public lavatories and take pictures of people peeing. That I didn’t quite have the courage to do. I took bus rides around, in a way killing time letting things happen. Again this great principle of never fixing anything up, it must be a genuine incident. Very much not what the Mirror’s policy was of ‘laying on’, setting up. / Was the funeral a difficult event to photograph? This was one of the times when my own super respectable conventional attitudes of respect for people in states of sorrow intervened very much. I hated doing it. This was a kind of exploitation of grief to the extent that things were very difficult, particularly in the church­ yard. The great problem to me was that I am a very embarrassable person in public situa­ tions, and essentially the whole activity was fraught with anxiety and embarrassment and danger. In many kinds of ways it was a torture. Even now, I often think to myself, ‘what a marvellous photograph but thank God I don’t have to take it’. One standard image of a press photographer is of someone who is very brash and will go to any lengths to grab the picture he wants, did you find your sensitivity a handicap to your career? I was trying to conceal the fact that I was a photographer. Now the world is, in a sense, full of Mass Observation photographers, people who are doing documentary photographs and are trying to conceal themselves. But the fact that these pictures are candid seems to give them more credibility, nothing seems disturbed or imposed upon the original event. That was an absolute Golden Rule, if anyone knew they were being photographed then it was a failure, it had to be unobserved. This shot o f the pub “The Grapes” - did you talk to those men? No. I would have been terrified. The whole difficulty for me, there, was what happens when you talk to them. They are total foreigners, it was acutely embarrassing. In looking at these photographs I tend to think of them as having been so obvious, no better than anyone else’s, but if I really think of the tortures I went through . . . People would have probably been mystified had you tried to explain M.O.s objectives to them? They wouldn’t have followed the analogy, they wouldn’t have realised this was a kind of social survey. Obviously people accept their own behaviour as being totally logical and unmysterious. Did you find the Bolton environment very stimulat­ ing? No I didn’t. I found the environment really very depressing. Was that atmosphere generated by industrial towns? Yes, generated by poverty and the way my own rather conspicuous function related to it. Of course it is very difficult to conceal oneself. In what way? Was it because of your accent? Yes, for me to go into a North Country pub, and really speaking a completely different language, to be a kind of “ hail fellow well met” person was very embarrassing, and for me to be questioned at having taken someone’s photograph, “ What the hell are you taking it for?” which often happened. In fact there is a pub interior here with a man raising his hand. What did he say? What was behind this gesture? This was a threat. This was get out, I probably felt very nervous, by that time I had made the exposure and I probably went. I found that once you were noticed, once you were the object of everyone’s attention you were finished. My main anxiety, purpose, was to become invisible and to make my equipment invisible, which is one of the reasons I carried around an absolute minimum of equipment, which was quite often concealed in a dreary old mackintosh. Summing up the relics of feelings toward Mass Observa­ tion I think I can remember the main enemy being boredom and tedium and embarrassment and to a certain extent fright, which every photographer is familiar with. An O bservation. 26.11.1937 Wages. Wages are usually paid about 2.30. The signal for everyone (on cards) to go is the fetching of the overlooker by the watch-house girl. Before that everyone has been getting restless for about a quarter of an hour. People meeting in the passages ask each other “Are wages ready yet?" One of the combers came over to us and said “What’s Joe waiting for?” A criticism some people may make of the Bolton pictures, is that they do not represent any o f the poverty that existed at the time. Was this avoidance intentional? Is it avoided? I think you’ll find that Tom has made a revealing comment somewhere about the possibility of getting inside people’s homes and of course the main difficulty wa
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorEd Barber, Mike Goldwater, Jenny Matthews, Shirley Read, Siddhiratna, Bruno Simes
      • author_writerGlyndwr Williams, Ian Macdonald, David Faddy, Angela Kelly, Frances Borzello, Stevie Bezencenet, Annette Kuhn
      • author_photographerE.J. Bellocq, Linda Benedict-Jones, Mike Disfarmer, Don English, Elmer Fryer, Nadar, Arnold Newman, Sir Cecil Beaton, Karen Knorr, Olivier Richon, Richard Avedon, Diane Arbus
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweeRoland Barthes, Jonathan Green, Anna Farova, Bruce Davidson, Lucy Lippard, Francis Brugiere, Lee Friedlander, Susan Sontag, August Sander, Edmund Carpenter, Doris Lessing, Cliff Richard, Yousef Karsh, Garry Winogrand, Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, John Szarkowski, Oliver Wendel Holmes, Walter Benjamin
      • author_organisationCamera Press
      • tagsportrait,portraiture,photo-portrait,commodity,individuality,studio portrait photography,archetypes,poverty,environmental portraits,weegee,paparazzi,snapshots,family albums,mothers,holiday photos,memory,amateur,democratisation of photography,fame,celebrity,'public' vs. 'private' photography,19th century photography,daguerrotype,early commercial photography,early studio portrait photography,calotypes,experiences of sitters,carte-de-visite,cabinet photo,stereograph,pictorialism,portrait photography,punk,subculture,shelter,homelessness,national campaign for the homeless,housing,families,documentary,the nude,objectification,glamour,storyville portraits,hollywood,pin-up,pornography,star system,dolls,prostitutes,prostitution,second sight,record industry,album photography,portraits of musicians,publicity,david bowie,fashion photography,pop art,drug culture,commodification of sex,self-portrait,rembrandt,portrait photography vs paintings,art photography,women photographers
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 12
      • subtitleIssue 12: Portraits
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Glyndwr Williams, Ian Macdonald, David Faddy, Angela Kelly, Frances Borzello, Stevie Bezencenet, Annette Kuhn, E.J. Bellocq, Linda Benedict-Jones, Mike Disfarmer, Don English, Elmer Fryer, Nadar, Arnold Newman, Sir Cecil Beaton © Cecil Beaton / Victoria and Albert Museum, London, Karen Knorr, Olivier Richon, Richard Avedon, Diane Arbus, Roland Barthes, Jonathan Green, Anna Farova, Bruce Davidson, Lucy Lippard, Francis Brugiere, Lee Friedlander, Susan Sontag, August Sander, Edmund Carpenter, Doris Lessing, Cliff Richard, Yousef Karsh, Garry Winogrand © The Estate of Garry Winogrand, courtesy Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco, Irving Penn © The Irving Penn Foudantion, John Szarkowski, Oliver Wendel Holmes, Walter Benjamin, Camera Press
      • credits
      • relatedhttp://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O244805/photograph-beaton-cecil-sir/
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 2) USA. Puerto Rico. New Guinea. Morocco. (pg 3) Austria. Essen, Germany. USA (pg 6,7) Paris, France (pg 8) Birmingham, London, UK (pg 9) Japan. Glasgow, Scotland, UK
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      • origination_date1979
      • origination_year1979
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:57:57
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      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • status1
      • featured0
      • pdf_textJurgen Schadeberg From ‘ Contemporary Portraits' HMPW Touring Exhibition PORTRAITS No.12 Half Moon Photography Workshop 50p/$1.50 SOME APPROACHES TO PORTRAITURE “ ‘Portrait’ . . . (now almost always) a repre­ sentation or delineation of a person, esp. of the face, made from life by drawing, painting, photography, engraving, etc; a likeness.” The Oxford Dictionary Volume VII In photography the word ‘portrait’ has been used to refer to virtually any photograph showing a representation of a particular indivi­ dual. That person may be totally unaware the photograph was ever taken, s/he may have been outraged that it was taken or may have been totally involved in the whole photographic process. Whatever the case, the photograph of that person could be seen as a ‘portrait’. Such an image would be well within the dictionary definition, but is that really suffi­ cient? Given that photographers have been making portraits for over 130 years, some examination of the portrait in contemporary photography is overdue. Just how useful, or valuable is the word? What has it come to mean? In trying to find answers to these questions it will be useful to examine the practice of portrai­ ture through the work of particular photo­ graphers. We shall also need to look at some of the factors that will affect the final portrait and the context in which it is viewed: i) intention and use ii) choice of subject or sitter iii) relationship between photographer and sitter iv) stylistic devices and techniques Portraiture has always been a significant area of photography, both in commercial and social terms. In the 19th century it was primarily a studio based activity with its roots in a painting tradition. Since then, with technical develop­ ments in photography and mechanical repro­ duction, portraiture has become much more diverse. As a commercial studio activity, portraiture flourished in the mid-19th century, providing ‘likenesses’ that could always be adjusted to flatter the sitter. The wealthier the sitter, the more readily s/he could not only obtain a photo­ graphic likeness, but also one that was suitably re-assuring. In photographic terms, money could buy deception; photographic portraits not only reinforced the sitter’s chosen social role or position, but conferred status, as well as confirming it. At the other end of the spectrum the photobooth provides the cheapest possible portrait with absolutely no contact between photographer and sitter. Until the growth of a market for amateur photography in the 20th century, photographic portraits remained the domain of the famous and the wealthy. The commissioned studio portrait had a clearly defined social use; the photographer’s role and relationship to the sitter was similarly clear. Few photographers nowadays make a living purely from studio portraiture; since the 2nd World War the demand for such portraits has diminished, whilst the amateur market has continued to expand. Nonetheless, there are commercial studios all over Britain still pro­ ducing portraits in keeping with the long established tradition of flattering the sitter. The Daguerreotype and Ambrotype have given way to the colour portrait, printed on canvastextured paper, framed in gilt. Considering the diversity of individual photographers there is a remarkably homogenous product. will be chosen carefully depending upon the demands of the particular shot, campaign or product. Their relationship with the photo­ grapher will be commercially based, as it would be in a personal commission, except that they will stand to benefit financially from the trans­ action - money will buy their complicity. ‘Greatness’ John Ford Richard Avedon I often feel that people come to me to be photographed as they would go to a doctor or a fortune-teller- to find out how they are. Rejection of tradition The long-established traditions of studio por­ traiture have not only been seen as an end in themselves, but also as a point of departure for some photographers. Richard Avedon is a photographer who has reacted against the confines of the studio tradition. Avedon now uses direct confrontation with his sitters, a white seamless backdrop and flat, frontal fighting. With his large format camera he mercilessly records every line and wrinkle on the face of his sitters. Many people find the work in his Portraits book provocative - Roland Barthes called the portraits: corpses that have living eyes which look out at you, which think. Avedon has an apparently simple view of portraiture: A photographic portrait is a picture of someone who knows he’s being photographed. Yet he recognises that people in his terms: become almost symbolic of themselves. Avedon’s approach owes much to his reaction against traditional studio portraiture - he is no longer interested in flattering, or social roles, or environments. Instead he sees himself as seeking out that which the sitter hides even from himself: I often feel that people come to me to be photographed as they would go to a doctor or a fortune-teller - to find out how they are. He does, however, make no claim that his portraits have psychological insight or character revelation: My photographs don’t go below the surface. They’re readings of what’s on the surface. I have great faith in surfaces. He records his sitters in infinite detail, stripping away the facade of their public persona. In the mid- 1960’s David Bailey began a series of portraits which owed much to the stylistics of Avedon’s work: frontal, white seamless back­ drop, close-up, harsh electronic flash, high quality image revealing every pore and facial detail. Rather than individual personalities, we are confronted by individual facial topography the work of a fashion photographer who, like Avedon, has reacted against the flattering cliches of traditional studio portraiture. Portraits in promotion The potential viewing audience of the commer­ cial portrait is usually restricted to the family and friends of the sitter, but portraits now have great currency in all kinds of promotional acti­ vities. Photographic portraits are used in all forms of selling: the ‘glamour’ image per­ petuated by so many magazines, the pin-up portraits in th'e daily tabloid or ‘Playboy’ magazine, the portraits of musicians on record covers, the portraits of people in advertisements selling anything from toothpaste to hi-fi’s, the front-of-house theatre portraits of actors. The list is a long one. Basically all these uses of portraits have one thing in common: they are geared to sell a product, whether it’s news­ papers or face-cream, the intention is the same. The people portrayed are part of that process; whether they’re models, actors, ‘personalities’, musicians, their role is very similar - they per­ sonalise and endorse the objects for sale. They Portrait photographers working in the 19th century studio moulds have been primarily con­ cerned with particular individuality and obtain­ ing a ‘likeness’ of the sitter: other practitioners appear to be more concerned with fame than individuality. Yousef Karsh is one such photographer: When one sees that residium of greatness before one’s camera, one must recognise it in a flash. There is a brief moment when all that there is in a man’s mind and soul and spirit may be reflected through his eyes, his hands, his attitude. This is the moment to record. This is the elusive moment of truth. People have been beguiled by his superb technique and see the sombre tones and rich textures as infusing the pictures with dignity and grandeur - part of his capturing the ‘inward power’ which he believes all men possess. Sadly, Karsh’s portraits reveal more about his technique and vision of greatness, and its portrayal in symbolic terms, than they actually show of his sitters as individual personalities. He works well within the old Victorian studio tradition, and to one extent or another all his ' 'sitters become subordinate to his portrayal of greatness and the stylistic devices he uses. His interest lies in the social role of his sitters; he researches the sitter before the session, but invariably produces portraits that present the public mask we are used to seeing. The Surreal Ernest Hemingway Yousef Karsh When one sees that residium o f greatness before one’s camera, one must recognise it in a flash. There is a brief moment when all that there is in a man’s mind and soul and spirit may be reflected through his eyes, his hands, his attitude. This is the moment to record. This is the elusive moment o f truth. The direct confrontation between subject and camera, so much a part of traditional studio portraiture, has held little interest for many photographers. Instead they have preferred to produce pictures that are clearly an ‘imposed’ view, where the sitter is but a foil for the photo­ grapher’s imagination. Bill Brandt’s portraits show people as creatures that inhabit his surreal world. This issue of CAMERAWORK, January 1979, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photo­ graphy and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photography, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. The people who worked on this issue were Ed Barber, Mike Goldwater, Jenny Matthews, Shirley Read, Siddhiratna, Bruno Simes. Printed by Expression Printers Ltd, London N 1. If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute we would be glad to hear from you. Please make sure it reaches us as soon as possible. (ISSN 0308 1676) 9 CAMERAWORK Puerto Rican woman with a beauty mark Brandt’s work has a certain harshness, which verges on brutality and mere affectation - such heavy treatments seem inappropriate in some of his portraits. His sitters are placed in unusual settings with ominous lighting and unexpected props - he manages to create a world of looming shadows where ordinary objects take on a strange, menacing quality, and even light seems to be an intrusion. Brandt describes this quality as: atmosphere. . . the spell that charges the commonplace with beauty. His portraits, like much of his work, are more concerned with design and form, textures and shapes, than individuality or likeness. People as objects In many portraits it is the individual personality that is of prime importance, but sometimes typicality becomes the dominant force in a photographer’s work. Irving Penn is one such practitioner - he has travelled all over the world making portraits of people in his ambulant studio on what he calls ‘neutral ground’. Penn’s work in advertising and fashion led him to develop certain stylistic devices that are now almost synonymous with his work - grey back-drop, north light, high quality images, formal poses. He has photographed the rich and famous in the same way that he photographed hippies in San Francisco or Mudmen in Papua^ New Guinea. He works within the confines of the studio tradition, but transports the studio to his location and isolates his subjects from their environment. His portraits show us representa­ tives of particular groups, tribes, classes, cults they are pictures of archetypes, not individuals. Many of his sitters, one suspects, do not fully understand the camera or the implications of being photographed. Of his approach, Penn says: I have tried tofind timeless and universal qualities . . . rather than to record accidental or transitory situations. A t the same time, I am always sustained by the docu­ mentary or historical value o f these records. According to Penn, taking people away from their natural circumstances transformed them, but they responded with dignity and seriousness. Edmund Carpenter, an anthropologist present at some of Penn’s shooting, has observed fear in the subjects and that the terror in their eyes is the tribal terror o f being recognised as individuals. These people of New Guinea need not have feared - Penn has transformed them into beautifully lit objects to adorn the pages of Vogue. This process of reification has made the most primitive peoples into still life photographs immaculate, detailed representations available for us to inspect at will. They leave one feeling ambivalent - visually seduced but intellectually and morally uneasy. The people portrayed have become objects of curiosity, unaware of the exploitative power of the camera and of photo­ graphy. Portrait of a people The anthropological approach that is apparent in some of Penn’s work was used many years earlier by August Sander, working from his commercial studio in Cologne. Shortly before the 1st World War he began a study of ‘Man of the 20th Century’ - he seemed to know what he Diane Arbus wanted from the outset: a genealogy of a people, a chart of humanity. He sought archetypes as subjects: The physical types in the chart were selected in a restricted area of the Westerwald. These people, whose way of life I had known from my youth, appealed to me because of their closeness to nature . . . all the characteristic common human qualities noted. His work was interrupted by the 1st World War, and later by the 2nd, but by then he had amassed a considerable archive of portraits of archetypes, people fulfilling a particular role in society yet remaining individual human beings. Sander rarely identified his subjects, preferring to identify them by occupation or activity. He managed to include some of his commercial clients in his project, but supplied them with more flattering gum prints, and for his own purposes used a glossy surfaced paper designed for technical photographs. The cumulative effect of his portraits is powerful, his straightforward approach, lacking the visual sophistication of practitioners like Penn, has a simple directness which makes his work more convincing. As Walter Benjamin observes: Sander’s work is more than a picture book: it is a training manual. Yet one still has reservations about his portraits - his obsession with genealogy leads him to overlook the possi­ bility of individuals being reduced to specimens in a collector’s album, rather than being recognised as the particular individuals they so obviously were. Freakshow In recent years photographers have been in­ creasingly involved in photographing people on the fringe of society, part of a ‘demi-monde’. ‘Borderline cases’ some people have called them. Back in the early 1960’s Diane Arbus, an American fashion photographer, began making portraits of transvestites, trans-sexuals, midgets, circus people, prostitutes, and a whole range of people she came into contact with during the hours she spent in Central Park, New York, or wandering the streets of that city. Her work has proved controversial and influential. Arbus committed suicide in 1971 and in 1972 a major retrospective of her work was shown in New York. This exhibition and the book that accompanied it contained some 80 or more portraits and edited transcripts of conversations with the photographer: Freaks was a thing I photographed a lot. It was one of the first things I photographed and it had a terrific kind of excite­ ment for me. I just used to adore them. I still do adore some of them. I don’t quite mean they’re my best friends, but they made me feel a mixture of shame and awe. There’s a quality of legend about freaks. Like a person in a fairy tale who stops you and demands that you answer a riddle. Most people go through life dreading they’ll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were bom with their trauma. They’ve already passed their test in life. They’re aristocrats. Such was her reverence for her subjects. They posed readily for her camera, and we can now see them caught by the electronic flash Arbus used. They stare out at us, unaware of the context in which we would be viewing them. The most disturbing aspect of her documenting ‘types’ is that seemingly ‘normal’ people have been caught in such a way as to make them look T hree market women of Rissani, Morocco ‘abnormal’. H er portraits have authority - derived from the contrast between the subject matter and their calm, attentive complicity. She has used the frontal moulds of photographic portraiture with its rhetoric of frankness, and disclosure she has gained their confidence, reassured them. According to Arbus: Photography was a licence to go wherever I wanted, and to do what I wanted to do. To her the camera appears to have been a passport cutting across moral boundaries and freeing the photographer from any responsibility towards the people photo­ graphed. Her work is a reaction against her own background and the commercial world which gave her a living. The portraits of Diane Arbus give us a view of an underworld, of victims, slow-motion private smash-ups according to Susan Sontag. Arbus brings them to our attention, but we must not be upset it seems; instead we must confront the grotesque and horrible with equanimity. They become less important as particular individuals, and instead represent certain bizarities: I do feel I have some slight comer on something about the quality of things. I mean it’s very subtle and a little embarassing to me, but I really believe there are things which nobody would see unless I photo­ graphed them. With such a view of the world we are all open to this kind of visual exploitation - we are all potential subjects, we all have quirks and nuances as individuals that might be seen as ‘exciting’ or ‘terrific’ if one sees things in a certain way. Put such images along with portraits of a few mentally retarded people, transvestites etc. and there is a powerful trade­ off. Beautification of poverty Just as photographers have obsessively docu­ mented more bizarre and unusual persons, so have they been drawn to minority groups. Josef Koudelka has been photographing gypsies since the early 1960’s. In his book Gypsies we are presented with photographs from East Slovakia 1962-68. People pose for Koudelka’s camera, but he does not reveal their identity to us. They are portraits but not of individuals. According to Anna Farova writing in the foreword of the book: A t first Koudelka was attracted by the physical beauty of the gypsies of Eastern Europe, the strangeness of their move­ ments and their facial expression, by their clothing and ornaments; later he was completely absorbed by his subject. John Szarkowski endorses this by writing: Josef Koudelka’s photography aims at a visual distillation of a pattern of human values: a pattern that involves theatre, large gesture, brave style, precious camaraderie and bitter loneliness. The main problem with these photographs is one of context - in an expensive hardcover book they take on a different meaning, aestheticising the suffering of these people. Presumably Koudelka has other plans for photographs of gypsies, or are they the result of a misguided romantic passion, destined never to be used positively? We may recognise or admire the altruism and power of his work, but we must also recognise its shortcomings. Bruce Davidson’s ‘East 100th Street’ operates in a similar way; it offers us a view of the people inside a Harlem ghetto in New York. The Irving Penn pictures are predominately portraits - people offer themselves to Davidson’s camera, aware of the camera, complied in making the portrait: Most of my photographs are compassionate, gentle and personal. They tend to let the viewer see himself. They tend not to preach. And they tend not to pose as art. Davidson’s book is an impressive record of a Harlem ghetto, the portraits show us represen­ tatives of that street - the images are wonder­ fully photographic, they beautify the poverty they document. We can savour it in the safety of our own comfortable homes. It’s interesting to see how people received the book when it first appeared. A.D. Coleman saw the East 100th St block as a place of squalor and degradation and was angered by Davidson’s aesthetically pleasing pictures; Philip Dante viewed the block as a soulful community and was upset by Davidson’s concentration on a dark journey into purgatory. These views appeared simultaneously in the New York Tim es in 1970. Later, Jonathan Green wrote about the photographs for an Aperture publica­ tion: Davidson’s images are not primarily meant to reveal the wrongs done to the people of East 100th Street nor to motivate the viewer toward social protest; rather Davidson, like Strand, has constantly used people from various lands and cultures as the basis of a highly personal and subjec­ tive art. His conception of the medium forces him to find the raw material of his craft in external reality. For Davidson reality has become merely the touch­ stone through which he is able to crystalise his per­ ceptions of the human predicament. Emotive portraits Since the earliest beginnings of photojournalism and reportage photography, portraits have been used as an integral part of picture stories and essays, often to evoke an emotional response and with the portrait standing as a personifica­ tion of that self-same event. Working on assign­ ment for Life magazine Eugene Smith used such portraits to punctuate and dramatise his photo-stories: ‘The Country Doctor’, ‘Albert Schweitzer’, and ‘Spanish Village’ all contain examples of his emotive portraits - dramatic fighting, very atmospheric, often close-up. Smith himself has viewed some of his portraits as symbolic - in writing about the mother and child in his Minamata series he said: As we photographed other things, things around her, and even the family, it grew and grew in my mind that to me the symbol of Minamata was, finally, a picture of this woman and child, Tanoko. Yet he also appears to have recognised the problems of taking such photographs: There are many ways lives can be changed by photographs, but I don’t think just the mere act of making a photograph will cause it to change. M inamata (subtitled ‘A Warning to the World’) published in 1975 was a carefully thought-out essay on one particularly obnoxious aspect of industrialisation in Japan: There’s nothing in this essay (Minamata) that can be taken as being other than affirmative, no matter how cynical I am at other times. The basic feeling is affirmation: it is not despair. These portraits highlight one of the contra­ dictions for the skilled photographer working in reportage; whilst s/he may produce powerful emotive images to be used for propaganda CAMERAWORK t , From ‘East 100th Street’ purposes in fighting a cause (Smith’s pictures were used in the fight for recognition and com­ pensation in Minamata), once that battle is fought the now famous images can be marketed in another context as high-quality books viz. Minamata, and Is Anyone Taking Any Notice? by Donald McCullin. The environmental portrait For the past 50 years or more photographers working on assignments for magazines have been using some elements of the sitter’s surroundings when making their portraits. ‘Natural’ portraits were pursued with relentless vigour by reportage photographers like Felix H. Mann and Alfred Eisenstadt. In more recent years the ‘environmental’ portrait has been talked about as if it were a new development. Reportage photographers continue to use a person’s surroundings to place them ‘in context’. Other photographers have developed an approach that is based on relating the sitter to his/her environment. Arnold Newman’s portraits demonstrate this very well. Newman works with detailed pre-knowledge of his sitters, using the large-format standcamera and elaborate lighting. This formal approach is clearly developed from studio tradi­ tions. He employs a tried and tested formula to produce utterly acceptable and often prestigious portraits in keeping with the image of Harper’s Bazaar and similar glossy magazines. He sees his pictures working on a symbolic level: We must also show the subject’s relationship to his world, either by fact or graphic symbolism. The photographer’s visual approach must weld these ideas into an organic whole and the photographic image produced must create an atmos­ phere which reflects our impressions of the whole. Some of Newman’s portraits overstate the person’s environment - the sitter as a particular individual becomes subordinate to the symbolic use of surroundings. His portraits are rarely less than immaculate in terms of photographic quality, but his formularised approach raises doubts as to the value of such formal portraits apart from their ability to reinforce an already established public persona. Rarely do his portraits cut through these masks. Innocent bystanders For the last fifty or so years, news photo­ graphers have been relentlessly ‘grabbing’ pictures of people that later get used as portraits. Certain conventions operate in this work, one in particular dominates - the use of direct flash. The work of Weegee typifies this approach, in his Weegee’s People and Weegee by Weegee Bruce Davidson books we see his flashlight catching people in the most bizarre and outrageous poses. His pictures of people offer a sceptical view of America of the 30’s and 40’s, they are just one part of his work as a press photographer engaged in covering news events. His pictures show little regard for the feelings or thoughts of his subjects. Instead he uses his camera to interrupt the stream of events and seize upon the most outlandish moment. In certain photographs one feels the person portrayed is paying the price of being in the public gaze, a ‘personality’. The work of ‘paparazzo’ photographers, such as Ray Bellisario and Ron Galella take this to an extreme as they ‘snatch’ pictures of their rich and famous subjects, using whatever photo­ graphic equipment, (be it high-powered tele­ photo lenses or direct flash) necessary to get the picture they want. Often held up as being portraits, these unguarded moments have more in common with surveillance photographs. Similarly, street grabshots have been viewed as portraits by some historians (see the section on ‘Street Portraits’ in Ben Maddows Faces book). ‘Grabshots’ by photographers like Garry Winogrand are portraits of events rather than portraits of particular individuals. Winogrand’s curiosity is summed up when he says: I photo­ graph to find out what something will look like photographed. So much for his concern with the individual. The raw material For many photographers the actual physical appearance of the subject/sitter will be of prime importance, and may prove to be instrumental in the formulation of the portrait itself. Some photographers have been attracted to certain kinds of people, or people in certain kinds of circumstances, who ‘fascinate’, ‘interest’, or ‘attract’ them. Each and every one of us has a particular facial character, w of ray dressing, way of moving etc, etc. On the street we’re all raw material for photographs. It’s all too easy to become involved in documenting ‘types’ of people without first thinking out the reasons for doing so, the point of such pictures, the use to which they can be put. The exploitative possibilities of photography need to be clearly thought about, particularly when making photographs of people without their permission. Ed Barber Ed Barber is a member of the H.M.P.W. Collec­ tive. He is currently working on a portrait research project. Alfred Krupp. Essen, Germany, 1963 Arnold Newman 4 CAMERAWORK Janice Green. I liked the Polyfotos when they used to take whole \ relax a bit. N icci always thinks I look like theQueen,I think it’s the big sheets and you just picked the ones you wanted. You can see the pearls. I t ’s not very often that I have a photograph taken because first ones are serious very conscious o f what they are doing, thenyou j it’s usually me taking the photograph. Family Snapshots hotography has changed the way we see ourselves and our families. Through their Kodaks, Brownies, Bantams, and Instamatics ordinary people can see and sense their visual ancestry. The invention of photo­ graphy has extended the possibility of clinging to time through portraits of ourselves and others, providing for us a real link with the past. The indulgence of leaving one’s image for posterity was initially only available to the wealthy and educated, and so the picture we have of Victorian times is one of privilege which allowed lives of leisure, travel and erudition. However, patterns of use for photography were set during this period: the pursuit of the medium as an art and as a means of public docu­ mentation; and the personal family photography presented in the form of the family album. This album originated in the scrap book and, with photographs, providing an essential visual contact with the past: becomes a living social document . . . unique in its concrete, visual record o f worlds o f past experience (The Expand­ ing Eye Alan Thomas). The popularisation of photography through the simplification of processes and the develop­ ment of a photographic industry brought with it photography for all, although this development was greeted with consternation by those who had exclusive use of the medium to that date. By its mass availability photography had been de­ based and the product of this mass use, the snapshot itself, was only of value as a means of commercial exploitation. It could also be used as a term of abuse, ‘just a snapshot’, or be defined in the Dictionary of Photography as Originally a photograph taken at a shutter speed high enough to be hand held, but now most usually applied to a photograph taken without care or skill, or by a beg­ inner. So family photographs produced and certainly valued by millions of people, are given no attention except in the provision of equip­ ment and materials for their production. The amateur photographic market in the UK is esti­ mated at around £360 million for 1978. The em­ P phasis has certainly been upon consumption with scant attention given to the uses to which people might put the product. There is little doubt about what the manufacturers think should be photographed. I remember, I remember . . . says the Kodak as it clicks its way around the world. Ilford films for faces and places, Put your family in the picture. A pattern of use for photography in the fam­ ily appears to have been set in the period 1848-70, and this mode of use has been rein­ forced by advertising. It seems to fall short of revealing a total ‘record of their own way of life’, with a particular bias that everything must be viewed through a viewfinder that reinforces the happiness myth. In attempting to fix individual fragments of the pursuit of this illusory ideal, the snapshooter produces an image which has considerable emotional charge. The ‘snapshot aesthetic’ which has developed in the work of certain contemporary photographers may be an attempt to kifidle such emotion felt when looking at snapshots but not felt when looking at art photography. The first serious history of the rise of popular photography. The Snapshot Photograph by Brian Coe and Paul Gates has recently been pub­ lished. Criticism apart, the important factor is that the snapshot has come from a scrap of paper ‘taken without care’ to an art object able to stimulate a new genre of photography. In the course of my current research on snap­ shots and family albums I interviewed a number of families in order to establish case histories of the family use of photography. The second half of this article is a direct result of this investiga­ tion. Snapshots have been described as our ‘self-image’ or as ‘psychological documents, frozen dreams’. However interpreted, it is clear that they participate in a link with family and friends and our collective past. But is this a very limited view of the past distorted by the need for adequate light to take pictures by? Are there no memorable moments in winter? The people I interviewed took it for granted that one did not take pictures in winter unless they had a flash. One couple did not have any pictures of their first baby when she was very young as she was a winter baby and the flash frightened her. Sun­ light and happiness are interdependent in our human experience and the good old days are much improved by viewing them through good light. It will be interesting to see if Kodak’s launching of fast colour negative films will change this pattern, or the collective equation of summer equals photography will prevail. Holidays, children, family reunions, weddings, the chosen subjects are all about love and belonging. The camera fixes its focus to give a reinforcing, permanent form to what may be a fragile unit, but can for the sake of the photo­ graph express a unity and exclude all others by the neat white border around the print. In a family where parents and children are split, there is the photographic presence of members who are absent. The moment of rupture is stated by their absence and a break of continuity in the family narrative. There may also be hints within the pictures of changes of relationship subtly expressed and capable of detection. Ann O ’Leary, who had many pictures of weddings, had none of either of her own marriages. Since my interview in November 1977 she has visited Australia to see her daughters, leaving her second husband in Britain. It seems this depar­ ture may be permanent. The absence of some photographs may be of equal significance as the presence of others. Photographs are rarely destroyed. There seems to be a sanctity in the image on paper, however blurred, faded, indistinct or unflattering. The destruction of the photograph seems to be an act of violence, of murder by proxy. Removal from the family album is an act of casting out the olfender. In one family the marriage of one of the sons had broken up, and the subsequent death of the father wasconsidered to be a result of the stresses involved. The daughter-in-law was blamed for this and all trace of her was removed from the family album, leaving blank spaces. In modern terms this has the potency of exorcism. The photographer in the family is an impor­ tant person. Except in one case where a more ex­ pensive camera was purchased, the woman was the prime photographer in the families I spoke to. This could be interpreted in many ways; as an expression of wanting the power to control the nostalgic images of childhood, as an expres­ sion of a loving relationship with her family, and perhaps also as a show of vanity in not wishing to expose herself to the critical eye of the camera. Motives are rarely simple or necessarily obvious. Not to take photographs of children is a sign of parental indifference. As a society, we build a fantasy round the concept of an idyllic childhood within an ideal family, and reinforce the fantasy of perfect parenthood by reflecting ourselves in the images of our children. The major period of photographic activity seems to cease as the children grow older. Then teenage children start to take photographs, making their own record of their lives, and these remain in their own possession. The ageing of the parent and the assertion of independence by the child­ ren is a process which, perhaps, inhibits the parents’ desire for record-making, and the next phase is the receipt of photographs of the grand­ children. Intense pleasure was seen and remembered as children in viewing the photographs of the family. It is here that a major demonstration of family continuity was taking place. Children, through access to parents’ and grandparents’ collections, and being photographed themselves, were establishing themselves as part of the family heritage, showing that life is more than of evanescent value. Thus multinational photographic corporations provide a means of producing a tenuous, spiritual ancestry for us as more traditional values wither in mass indifference. CAMERAWORK photography in any expressive sense. Mystification wins again, but the definition of the snapshot as ‘taken without care’ is false. Taken without knowledge is much more appropriate. I have observed the snapshooter vforking with intense concen­ tration upon the task in hand. The people photographed give advice based upon photo folklore, and great care is given to pose and situation. What was clear was that people did not know any­ thing of the process they were using, it was a magic thing that happened when they pressed the button. We are in an age of great mystification reinforced by the concept of automatic equipment as a replacement of knowledge and the initiative of the individual. None of the people spoken to feel they had any technical know­ ledge of photography nor did they feel they had any ability to use I was about eighteen then and I was on holiday. It was ragged like that because it was in my husband’s wallet. W "W T hy do we so often take and see photo% / ■ / graphs of the same people? Why do ▼ * the same entertainers, sportsmen, politicians, and ‘personalities’ receive so much free publicity, and why do we appear to come back for more? The ‘we’ referred to here is not the ‘we’ who are more interested in photographs than in what or whom they represent, but the much more numerous ‘we’ who look at maga­ zines and books out of curiosity, interest, and a desire to pass the time. John Berger has drawn our attention (Ways of Remembering Camerawork No. 10) to the dis­ tinction that is to be drawn between the public and private uses of photographs, maintaining that the private context creates a continuity which is parallel to the continuity from which the photograph was originally taken, whereas the public photograph has been severed from life when it was taken, and it remains, as an isolated image, separate from your experience. Although I don’t deny that such a distinction can be made and that it is a useful and important one in some respects, it is also misleading in terms of the way we look at photographs. In considering pictures of people - loosely termed ‘portraiture’ - it would seem that there are a number of parallels between public and private usage which considerably blur the distinction and are significant in both contexts. My reservations stemmed initially from Berger’s assertion that public photographs are usually images o f the unknown, or at best, they are images o f things which are known only through other photographs. There is, however, a whole category of pictures in which this is not true. We are continuously presented, in news­ papers, magazines, books and galleries, with pictures of people with whose appearance we are already familiar and about whom we already ‘know’ a great deal - not just through other photographs, but through their television appearances, radio broadcasts, what we have read about them or by them. The fact that this ‘knowledge’ is second-hand, entirely produced through the media and possibly entirely mis­ leading, does not prevent it from producing that ‘reconstitution of continuity’ which Berger says is the special characteristic of private photo­ graphs. We very rarely look at photographs of people in order to find out what they look like. We are more interested in pictures of people we know. We may be fascinated by our own holiday snaps but are likely to be bored by other people’s. We pay more attention to and are more curious about magazine or newspaper pictures of those we have seen represented many times before than those who are new to us. Even the excep­ tions to this generalisation can be found in both public and private contexts, as when we look with interest at a picture of a brother’s wife whom we have never met or of an admired writer or musician we have never seen. It may be objected here that this tendency in Stewart Mann Stewart Mann teaches photography on an Art Foundation course and is doing research for an M.Phil. on photography and schools. He would be pleased to hear from anyone working on photography in the family. That’s me. It’s not me, but that’s how I like to seem. I think that’s fantastic. Doesn’t look a bit like me really does it?A t twenty three I can say I looked like th a t. . . the public use of pictures is forced upon us by the media, that we really don’t want to see yet another picture of Margaret Thatcher or Hitler or Bruce Forsyth, and that editors and tele­ vision producers, either engaged in some con­ spiracy to reinforce the dominance of elite groups or for the more humdrum reasons of wishing to use available material and create attractive page lay-outs, make us look again and again at the same people. There is, however, Ann: This sort of thing with your stomach sticking out, you know, having a scratch or something, that’s more me. But it’s not me as I want to go down in posterity. considerable evidence that there is genuine public demand in operation here, as in the popularity of certain photographs in galleries, or in the sale of books, or in the fact that maga­ zines featuring new photographs of the royal family or pop stars do sell better. There seems to be a desire, not to get to know new people, but to increase our acquaintance and familiarity with those already known. There is also a correspondence between the Familiar Faces forms of pictures produced in the public and private contexts. Just as the high street photo­ grapher is called in to take pictures of weddings or cricket teams or new graduates in caps and gowns, so it seems that the public relations photographs of the captains of industry or the investiture pictures of the Prince of Wales are required. Conversely, we are continuously deluged with well-known people ‘taken unawares’, ‘looking natural’, ‘in an unguarded moment’, which serve to emphasise that feeling of familiarity and ‘private’ knowledge and spon­ taneity which are valued in family snapshots at the seaside. (Occasionally the two forms are brought comically together, as in Cecil Beaton’s coronation portrait of the Queen in which she is represented in formal pose with all the trappings of a thousand years of monarchy looking like the lady next door who has just won a week’s holiday for two at Butlin’s). The forms have changed historically, also in parallel, the stern grandfatherly picture of Gladstone on the parlour wall being replaced by kindly avuncular Jim Callaghan on the maga­ zine cover on the kitchen table, the stiff unsmiling and carefully arranged Victorian family group in the photographer’s studio by the Polaroid Christmas dinner table scene with raised glasses and paper hats. There are similarities too in reactions to public and private photographs. We bring to bear our feelings and knowledge and prejudices about the subjects and see in the same smile on the face of Edward Heath either goofy grin or affable good nature, determined by both our political convictions and our previous expe­ rience of him, just as our attitudes towards relatives and friends are brought to bear upon their pictures. O f course, Berger’s distinction still survives in that the nature of private experience is funda­ mentally different to mediated public expe­ rience, and we know we are deceived into thinking we have familiarity with well-known people when we have, in fact, none. We can recognise the abuses inherent in this bogus relationship and can deplore the elitism involved, the perpetuation of the hegemonic domination of our society by the few so regularly presented to us and the consequent devaluation of private relationships and experience. We are nevertheless victims of our own pleasure in recognition, and forced to live with this, the real Family of Man created and perpetuated by photography - Mum, Dad, Auntie Gladys, Dennis Healey, Stirling Moss, Petula (dark, John Betjeman, Jimmy Carter and Annie Walker. We may not like Big Brother but he is after all a close relative. Perhaps it’s a comfort that we know him so well. David Faddy Her Majesty The Queen. 1953 Sir Cecil Beaton David Faddy is Head of Film and Photography at the Polytechnic o f Central London. « CAMERAWORK he main function of portrait painting has been to establish a social role for the sub­ ject, the concern being not for indivi­ duals, but for their place in society. The portrait served, both explicitly (display of property) and implicity (suggestion of wealth and leisure) as evidence of status. Towards the end of the eighteenth century there was an increasing demand for portraits. Wood-engraving returned to fashion, litho­ graphy was invented and then came photo­ graphy. The announcement in Paris in 1839 of the details of the Daguerreotype process, and its gift to the world, was to be the beginning of an en­ thusiasm for photography, which was directed almost immediately towards portraiture. Contemporary methods of representation, i.e. painting, drawing, and lithography possessed characteristics of uniqueness, colour, and reproduceability. The work could be produced with varying degrees of speed and displayed with corresponding degrees of realism. This was limited by the skill of the artist and defined by the qualities of the medium. The advantage of the Daguerreotype was that it required less manual dexterity and could be produced relatively quickly. The equipment was costly, the process hazardous and frequently resulted in failure. None of these factors deterred the amateurs, for it had one great advantage - the D aguerreotype by an unknown photographer. cl852 capability to reproduce ‘accurately’ and to record minute detail to a degree previously inconceivable. The qualities were obvious. This was a process that combined the singularity of painting, the speed of drawing, lacked the flat­ ness of the lithograph and exhibited a realism that none of the existing mediums could attain. Above all, it was faster and so it was cheaper. The sensitivity of the plate, which required long exposures, was a major drawback as far as portraiture was concerned, yet a contemporary account by a pupil of Daguerre’s states: Within fifteen days after the publication of the pro­ cess o f M . Daguerre in Paris, people in every quarter were making portraits. Adamson’s technical skill enabled them to pro­ As the mechanics of having one’s picture It was not that these new photographers had a duce simple, spare portraits which seem to hint taken were still rather uncomfortable in the great desire to record the public but, as portraits at the ‘individual’, as much as revealing the 1840’s/50’s it was sensible to attempt to put the became easier, interest increased. The ‘type’.The Calotype had certain advantages:it client at ease, before enduring what has been subsequent commercialisation of photography was a negative/positive method, the image was for this purpose was partially in response to a compared with a session at the dentist. Presum­ not vulnerable and it did not have the harsh demand. As the financial benefits began to be ably one ‘dressed up’ to be photographed, so ‘realism’ of the Daguerreotype. However, it did how pleasant to parade around, socialising, realised, social trends and studio advertising rather resemble a drawing, while the public pre­ admiring portraits and generally being ‘seen’, served to stimulate further demand. ferred the image that resembled the miniature. before offering oneself to the critical eye of the The first documented portrait was made in So, for the first twelve years the Daguerreo­ camera. This objective tendency to ‘realism’ October 1839. The subject had her eyes shut type ruled the commercial studio. The process against the harsh sunlight and her face was pow­ could easily be overcome by a skilled retoucher, and patent restrictions were two of the most dered for a shorter exposure. The necessity of who might well be a redundant miniature important factors in early portraiture. It was yet keeping still for several minutes resulted in a painter, now getting his revenge on another process that caused photography to rigid expression, the final result being almost photography, by obscuring all the qualities that expand and alter in the next few decades. made it remarkable in the first place. However, corpse-like. (In fact, a suitable and common despite this tendency for ‘improvement’, many subject). In the following months many n 1851, Frederick Scott-Archer introduced improvements were suggested, some by of the early portraits survive unblemished. the Wet-collodion negative. Its basis, emul­ interested scientists, most by eager he client might as well have been sitting sion on glass, was not new, nor was the albu­ commercialists. Of these, the most significant for a painting. One expected to be viewed men paper used for printing. But as the accelera­ were: toning - to improve the contrast and by the camera-operator and collaborated tion method made it possible to use Daguerreo­ protect the image; and the acceleration method, in the display and recording of information. The for portraiture, so Scott-Archer’s fast emul­ type sion revolutionised photography, especially which increased the speed of the plates. composure of the sitter and the composition of portraiture. An albumen print from a collodion By m id-1840 the first portrait studio had the photographer combined in the image. The negative combined the fine quality of the metal opened and by the end of 1841 there were transient expression was replaced by the sub­ plate process with the plural nature of the paper studios in most major towns in Europe and stantial and generalised one. one; it became the predominant process until it Many early portraits have a gentle quality to America. Success was immediate. Beard of was superceded by the dry-plate in the 1880’s. London made £30,000 in his second year alone. them and it is not difficult to relate them to There were several related forms of This was mostly from portraits, the rest being Benjamin’s idea of ‘aura’. Here Benjamin presentation: ambrotype, ferrotype and from the sale of licences. He had purchased the quotes Orlik: carte-de-visite, all of which were beneficial to patent on the Daguerreotype process in The synthesis of expression brought about by the the growth of photography. These modes were England (the only country to suffer this length of time that a model has to stand still is the instantly adopted by portraitists, which led restriction). He advertised for prospective main reason why these (early) pictures, apart from them to phase out the earlier methods, whilst at their simplicity, resemble well-drawn or painted licensees by displaying a sample price chart. the same time, offering an increasing variety of portraits and have a more lasting effect on the spec­ There were two headings: Charge and Profit. form. This development did little to alter the The latter could be 90% of the former. Competi­ tator than more recent photography. social conventions of the studio, but it did affect This quality is particularly evident in tion was a significant factor in technical and its commercialisation. commercial developments. Every operator was Calotypes. Few portraits were made using this . . . it was a little thing, a man standing by a fluted determined to offer a more advanced or process, despite the fact that it appeared almost column, full length, the head about twice the size of interesting result; e.g. Claudet, a competitor of immediately after Daguerre’s. (Two important factors were the inconsistency of paper quality a pin. I laughed at that, little thinking I should at a Beard’s, patented the use of painted backdrops day not far distant, be making them at a rate of a in 1841. The idea was immediately fashionable and the difficulty of the emulsion ‘taking’ to the thousand a day. (New York Daguerreotypist, on and hence saleable, both through Claudet’s paper.) Talbot, the inventor, in an attempt to gain money rather than recognition, had issued studio and by the sale of licences. first seeing a carte). strict patents, which covered his and other re­ Prior to 1851, a degree of craftsmanship was n theory, a portrait was now a possibility lated methods. Threatened law-suits deterred necessary to produce results. As many artists for all but the poor. At last, a truly demo­ interested photographers, who refused to pay had been forced into becoming ‘photographercratic form of representation; no longer artists’ to continue working, there was also an the high licence fees. Moreover the public had does the lack of wealth discriminate! Yet in 1843 become used to the high quality of the French element of concern for the ‘picture’. Portraits Claudet’s price for a single image, untinted, was were relatively expensive, even for the middle process and found the coarseness of the paper 21s. It actually took several years before the classes, and a studio needed only a few sitters print less attractive. One portrait studio, cheap assembly-line method of production each day to be a viable commercial began to be possible. So, even though the gap devoted exclusively to the Calotype process, lasted only a year. Apart from Hill and enterprise. had narrowed, visiting a studio was still a limited and consequently privileged activity. With the Adamson in Scotland, where there were no s the public became aware of the new and larger studios this became a social event. The restrictions, few seem to have made an extended usually cheaper pictures the studios besuccess of Calotype portraits. successful establishments combined art-gallery, L came transformed. Outwardly they ap­ meeting-place and drawing room as well as the These two men produced several thousand peared the same and if anything more lavish as ‘operating’-room. An account of Brady’s pictures in the 1840’s that are firmly based in the the fashion spread. Through names like ‘Palace style of conventional painting, yet stand apart Broadway gallery in the early 1850’s: of Photography’ and ‘Temple of Photography’ The floors are carpeted with superior velvet tapestry due to the unique qualities of the process. In­ proliferated, behind the scenes they came to re­ . . . the walls are covered with satin and gold paper. stead of considering the grain of the paper print semble mini-factories. Portrait photography became a production-like business. Not all the The harmony is not the least disturbed by the superb as a disadvantage, they used it to produce studios worked this way and this procedure did rosewoodfurniture - tete-a-letes, reception and cosy ‘breadth of effect’, a feature intermittently not necessarily produce poor results. What it chairs and marble top walls, all o f which are multi­ sought after by artists (as indeed Hill was). did produce was mediocrity, on a scale that Hill’s talent for lighting and composition and plied by mirrors from ceiling to floor. T From Commercial Beginnings T I I A must have seemed staggering to the early inven­ tors, many of whom lived long enough to experience the shift from amateur dabbling to mass industry. This in no way affected its popu­ larity. It would appear that though clients did require an image that was recognisably personal, they were apparently satisfied, and maybe even desired, to fit a general image of their ‘class’. In this decade the process became subordinated to the result. The investigations of the early practitioners and the delight in the means of representation was replaced by a desire for uniformity of image, though not of represen­ tation. The individual became increasingly type-cast with appropriate props, gestures, and background, this completed the already limited nature of the camera. The photographer as ‘interpreter’ was trans­ posed into photographer as ‘recorder’. Certain qualities of the medium were developed, usually those that were an asset to the business aspect. The arguable ability to capture ‘aura’ was neg­ lected; there were too many pictures to take; there was not enough time. This change did not happen overnight. The 1851 Crystal Palace Fair, which exhibited photographs from all over the Western world, provided a showcase and stimulant to photography. Scott-Archer provided the means. Though he gave his process freely to the world, it was not till 1855 that all processes were unrestricted by patents and practitioners could operate easily. There are two points to be made about the expansion of commercial portraiture in the 1850’s. Both are concerned with attempts to make the public purchase images of people. First, there was a movement to extend the potential clientele of the studios by offering cheaper portraits. Disderi had patented the carte-de-visite in 1854 (a method of making eight or ten images on one plate), as he knew that many could not afford current prices. Simultaneously, at the other end of the scale, increasingly large, elaborate and hand-worked pictures were being offered to attract the wealthy, presumably as an alternative to a ‘por­ trait in oil’. There arose a very complex scale of prices, from 6d. for a tintype, up to $750 for an American Imperial. There were other scales for size, number, amount of retouching, type of presentation, personal backdrop, etc. Demo­ cracy at last. Now, whatever one could afford there was a product to suit the purse. All but the very poor could obtain their picture, yet the wealthy could buy photographs suitably different, so as to be able to disassociate their pictures from the more ‘common’ side of the trade. The second point is concerned with the rise of the ‘celebrity’. The more successful studio photographers established extensive records of the famous of their time, to be sold at a great and continuing profit. Brady in America published a volume, Gallery of Illustrious Americans, in 1850, a first step towards his ambition to be the photo-historian of his time. Disderi in Paris became court photographer and by 1866 had 65,000 portraits of celebrities for sale. Mayall in London published the Royal Album, fourteen pictures of the Royal Family and sold 100,000 copies. The practice was simple. A well-known figure was requested to sit and, as they did not pay, the copyright remained with the photo­ grapher. Hundreds of prints would then be made from the negative and could be viewed by the public when they came for their own pictures. oth these factors led to an ever-increasing number of images, particularly carte-devisites . . . the social currency, the senti­ mental ‘greenbacks’ of civilisation (Oliver Wendell Holmes). Benefits claimed earlier by the Calotype were now reaped by this form. There wereperiods,such as during the American Civil War, when photographers followed their clients (in this case the army), and could not keep pace with demand. However, for some, this was an objectionable development: The appearance of Disderi and the carte-de-visite spelled disaster. Either you had to succumb . . . or resign. (Nadar) Despite the similarity of much of the studio work, there were those who managed to combine their own particular style, which went deeper than mere appearance. Nadar was such a photographer. In a lawsuit of 1856 he stated: The theory of photography can be learnt in an hour and the elements of practising it in a day . .. What cannot be learnt is the sense of light, an artistic feeling for the effects of varying luminosity and combinations o f it, the application of this or that effect to the features, which confront the artist in you. What can be learnt even less is the moral gasp of the subject - that instant understanding which puts you in touch with the model, helps you to sum him up, guides you to his habits, his ideas and his char- B i CAMERAWORK acter and enablesyou to produce, not an indifferent reproduction, a matter of routine or accident such as any laboratory assistant could achieve, but a really convincing and sympathetic likeness, an intimate portrait. During the 1860’s Nadar was one of the most successful portraitists in Paris. He had a signifi­ cant advantage in his wide circle of friends in the arts, most of whom patronised his studio. He was thus in an excellent position to fulfil his desire for an ‘intimate portrait’, since he was well-acquainted socially with many of his sitters. These pictures are surprisingly simple and non-decorative, for Nadar was an eccentric and flamboyant man, who worked in lavish surroundings. The portraits appear as a record of the interaction between the sitter and the camera rather than the sitter and the photographer. The latter relationship is suppressed in favour of the intimate act of ‘dis­ closure’ to the lens. One is aware of the lighting and the sitter, nothing else interferes. Whether Nadar achieved the depth of study to which he aspired is not easy to say. Rarely do we view his photographs without the benefit of a title, usually a recognisable name. So how do we know whether we are being informed by the image or the text? If we are already acquainted with Offenbach and Baudelaire, either visually or through prior knowledge of their lives, to what extent can the portrait work alone? Indeed, why should it? ike Nadar, many photographers have used commercial portraiture to providea secure economicbaseforother less lucrative acti­ vities. Two of his contemporaries serve as good examples - Rejlander and Robinson. Both established portrait studios in the late 1850’s, but unlike Nadar are not particularly well known for their work in this field. The studio work subsidised their pictorial activities. Occasionally a photographer might even be able to discard the protective umbrella of the more traditional commercial work to become totally involved in ‘art’ photography. This was (and in­ deed still is) a rare occurrence and there are few practitioners today who are not answerable to a client for their product. Many resent it: Another conserver of strength and saver of time has been the retouching of all my professional sittings by a paid retoucher. The work seldom means anything to me beyond money, the public does not appreciate any difference in results, so why should I ruin my eyes and tax my nerves? My one regret is that I must sign these prints . . .(Edward Weston, 1924) Whilst some worked outward from their commercial base there were others who arrived at studio work after somewhat different beginnings. It can be difficult to distinguish between amateur and professional styles in por­ traiture or to make generalisations about their characteristics. However, it is possible to be more definite about the pressures that affect the final result in examining the work of Charles le Negre, who initially took photographs as an eager amateur, later as a disillusioned profes­ sional. He was a contemporary of Nadar and though he began by using the medium as an aid to painting, he soon turned to it in its own right. He took many portraits characterised by an informal ‘family album’ quality. After some years of experimentation with the medium he was required to move to the south for health reasons. Here, embittered by lack of official recognition and in need of money, he was forced to accept portrait commissions and sell pictures to tourists. His later portraits are noticeably different to his earlier images. Many were in the form of a stereograph, a double image that gave a three-dimensional effect when seen through a special viewer. The points of comparison between the two bodies of work are few, there seem only to be points of contrast. In the later images there is none of the naturalness which characterised the early portraits. Now the lighting delineates harshly, destroying tonality and modelling. The painted backdrop does not quite blend with the jumble of objects in the foreground and parts of irrelevant studio props intrude to ensure our awareness of the whole contrivance. As for the subject, the lady appears as a cardboard cut-out placed in an equally ‘dead’ environment. (There is a distinct similarity with Pollack’s toy theatres - cut out the figure, paste onto cardboard, attach wire, slide onto stage against paper scenery and move to and fro for animation ). It is apparent that there is a significant diffe­ rence in the quality and type of portrait that le Negre produced at these distinct times in his life. It is not possible to say whether it was the photographer or the demands of the clients that caused this change in his ‘style’, but once involved in commercial photography his photo­ graphs became crude and cliched. Is this due to the pressure of earning a living, or to his dis­ illusionment? Difficult to say, but I suspect that other practitioners followed the same path. To
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      • tagscamerawork magazine,identity,self-image,portrait,organisational
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 12
      • subtitleSynopsis of planned articles on portraits for Issue 12 of Camerawork
      • dimension1
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      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorSantiago Castrillon, Denisce DiIanni, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read (co-ordinator), Siddhiratna, Bruno Simes
      • author_writerPierre Coutanche, Caro Webb, Nicky Hughes, Bruno Simes, Paul Carter, Paul Trevor, Mike Goldwater
      • author_photographerPaul Trevor, Martin Parr, Tom Learmonth, James Ravilious
      • author_designerLiz Mackie, Richard Platt,
      • author_intervieweeDave McKay, James Ravilious, Terry Crabtree, Helen Bridges, Tom Learmonth,
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      • tagsoffsite,blackfriarsyouth project,waterloo festival,islington gutter press,centreprise,community publishing,self-publishing,workers al association,street exhibition,trinity arts,the photographic gallery,blackfriars settlement,union place,community photography,alternative press,photo-journalism,documentary,arts council,paul carter,north paddington community darkroom,510 centre,darkrooms,urban aid,shelter,gulbenkian foundation,housing,national empty property campaign,the factory,pensioners,catering workers,commission for racial equality,split image,schools,manchester free school,north west arts,young offenders,mental health,hospitals,beaford photography archive,farming,womens' institutes,reading museum of rural life,printing,squatting,demolition,bonfire press,southwark general strike,paul trevor,exit,bangladeshi communities,national front,british movement,altab ali,skinheads,racism,anti-nazi league,hackney and tower hamlets defence committee,police racism,alternative technologies,photo-kit,dave hoffman,tower hamlets arts project,property developers,coin street,tape-slide,blackfriars photography project,glc,tenants action group,blind people,disability,disabled photographers
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 13
      • subtitleIssue 13: Photography in the Community
      • dimension17 pages
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      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Pierre Coutanche, Caro Webb, Nicky Hughes, Bruno Simes, Paul Carter, Paul Trevor, Mike Goldwater, Martin Parr, Tom Learmonth, James Ravilious, Liz Mackie, Richard Platt, Dave McKay, Terry Crabtree, Helen Bridges
      • credits
      • related
      • location(pg 1) North Yorkshire, UK. Blackfriars, London, UK. North Devon, UK. Islington, London, UK. Birmingham, UK. Southampton, UK. Bethnal Green, London, UK. (pg 3-4) Paddington, London, UK. (pg 4) Manchester, UK. Cheshire, UK. Salford, Manchester, UK. Oldham, UK. (pg 4-5) Beaford, Devon, UK (pg 5-6) Lambeth, London, UK. (p6-7) Tower Hamlets, London, UK. Bethnal Green, London, UK. (pg 8,9,10) Brick Lane, London, UK. Spitalfields, London, UK. Bethnal Green, London, UK. (pg 12-13) Waterloo, London, UK. Lambeth, London, UK. Blackfriars, London, UK.
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      • pdf_text* v v . / \ \ • ■ *■ • ■ ** CAMERAWORK An accidental double exposure at a photo-kit session at Ranwell Club Playscheme, Bow. Summer 1978. Photography in the Community NO 13 Half Moon Photography Workshop 50p/$1.50 Community Documentation Photography with Kids Community Publishing Community Relations For some time Martin Parr has documented life in the area of North Yorkshire where he lives, and has held local exhibitions of his photographs. A large number of projects work with children and youth groups. This photo was taken by a member of Blackfriars Youth Project. Blackfriars also teach pensioners and community workers. Centerprise is a community publishing project which grew out of Workers Educational Association writing classes, and which produces books written by local working people. Photographs are used in many of the publications. Trinity Arts have produced an exhibition on the life of a multi-racial community in Birmingham. The exhibi­ tion aims to promote discussion and bring racial groups closer together. Waterloo Festival 1978 Archive James Ravilious works in a village in North Devon. He is helping to strengthen a sense of community by building up an archive of historical and contemporary material through copying villagers’ photos and docu­ menting the area himself. Muslim wedding Frank Ideson, Lord Savile's head game-keeper Environmental Education Offsite is an ILEA project in which Primary schools are encouraged to develop a wide range of skills, including photography, through studies of the local environment. From this, it is hoped that a broadlybased curriculum will emerge, with which children can readily identify. 12 accounts of work in Hackney 1905-45 Exhibitions on the Street Barrington circa 1920 Community Newspapers Islington Gutter Press is a local radical newspaper which uses photos in its presentation of issues not covered by the commercial press. Tom Learmonth is one photographer who has taken photography out of the gallery onto the street. He has documented life on an estate near his home and is showing the work in the local launderette and fly­ posting prints in the area. Photographer in Residence The Photographic Gallery at the University of Southampton initiated a photography project based in two schools in the local community. ‘My Mum’ Simon Smith age 12 Street Class Mansford Street - Unitarian Church Hall Free Press Working in the Community Community photographers continue both a photographic and communal tradi­ tion. Photographers since Lewis Hine and Jacob Riis have shown the things in our society that need to be changed. People have done community work since the great charitable settlements were established in our big cities during the last century. Community photographers, however, want to give more than charity or expose social injustices. They believe that people can use photography to make their own demands and help to make them free. Individual photographers in the community will continue to fight to change a ruthless society by exposing injustices; the bad housing, run down welfare services, poverty, unemployment, the day-to-day desperation of so many peoples’ lives. Groups like Union Place and Blackfriars Settlement also know that it is important, socially and individually, to give people a knowledge of photography. It can be argued that giving someone living in one room with four children access to a camera is only a bitter joke, but we believe that the camera can be used as a revolutionary instrument. It can unite people not only with a shared picture of the world, but bring them together in the very process of taking pictures. Photographs can change a private experience into common awareness. Community photography is frequently praised. The photographs may be questioned, but the process seldom is. Community photography can be shown to be reformist; another panacea for the dispossessed; utilising the patronising social work instincts of the middle classes; sticking plaster on the body politic. State funds can be seen to be corrupting a spontaneous movement, another form of political control, bureaucratic strangulation, stopping any attempt to change the status quo. A new profession - ‘the community photographer’ could take the bite out of radical social critique. Even so, community photographers apply their ‘art’ to social needs. They have a common aim, expressed in many ways, to teach people the skills to express their personal and political realities. It is a battle to take the mystery out of a simple craft; to make a cultural tool available to everybody, not just to an elite. In this issue of Camerawork we outline some of the factors, aims and problems of community photography. We will continue this discussion in future issues. We hope our readers will contribute. We think that community photography can actively involve people in social change. We believe that it can be a vital step in taking control of our own lives. The people who worked on this issue were Santiago Castrillon, Denisce Dilanni, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read (co-ordinator), Siddhiratna, Bruno Simes. is designed to provided a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photo­ graphy, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. This issue of CAMERAWORK, March 1979, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. SUBSCRIBE TO CAMERAWORK: A full subscription to Camerawork includes six issues, posters and invitations for our exhibitions. The cost for this is £6.50 (students £5.00). Subscription to Camerawork alone is £4.50 for six issues. Institutional subscription (which includes posters and invitations) is £12.00 for six issues. Overseas subscriptions cost £1.00 in addition to the above costs. Send to H.M.P.W., 119 Roman Road, London E2 0QN. Tel: 01-980 8798. (ISSN 0308 1676) CAMERAWORK n recent years some new ways of using and producing ‘socially concerned’ photography have developed. Each of these ways reflects the lives, history and culture of working people and the fight for their needs and aspirations. None of these ways are new, most are simply extensions of what documentary. High Street and local press photographers have done for years. Concern to make photography and the arts in general more accessible to working people is not new either. In the Thirties the Federal Arts Project in America and the Workers’ Film and Photo League in Britain tackled the problem. What is significant now is the scale on which community photography is done. This work falls into three overlapping areas ‘alternative’ photojournalism; locally based documentary projects; and photographic activities which involve and serve the needs of local people. All these areas interrelate and have at one time or another been called community photography. I ‘Alternative’ photo-journalism Some photo journalists make a point of working for the alternative press, pressure groups, charities, self-help organisations and political groups in order to relate their skills to their social and political ideals. These photo­ journalists generally have a workstyle which is little different from the more commercial side of photojournalism - they move from place to place on different assignments and can generally spend only a short time with the people they photograph. Community documentary Other photographers try to make better contact between their expertise and ordinary people by photographing a particular group or in a parti­ cular locality. By undertaking extended docu­ mentary projects they build up an intimate knowledge of their subjects. They often live in the locality and work at the project full or pan­ time over several years. Two dilemmas often occur in the course of a community documentary project: the demands for pictures made by local people, and the problem of what to do when the people don’t like the way in which they or the area are portrayed. Subjects can make the same sorts of com­ plaints about photographers as photographers make about picture editors - lack of control. Even if the photographer is very sympathetic to his or her subjects in principle, when it gets down to details a lot of differences can surface. Community photography Community photography picks up these dilemmas because it is more concerned with the needs and preferences of local people. It aims to provide a resource in the form of photographic equipment, darkrooms,and teaching or access to a photographer’s service. Urban working-class neighbourhoods, villages and new towns have been most affected by social and economic changes and it is in such localities that most community photography takes place. Community work is essentially an educa­ tional process, usually started by bringing people together to achieve an immediate aim for example a tenants’ association might form to get essential repairs done. Then through finding out about existing decision-making structures and planning procedures, organising petitions, lobbying and sometimes taking direct action like rent strikes, people come to learn how to make their opinions and needs felt more strongly, even if they don’t actually get real control. However community work can be as patronising a way of helping as the social welfare approach. It can end up dealing mainly with symptoms of social inequality rather than the causes. Ways of working Most of the people doing community photo­ graphy have more or less drifted into it. Indivi­ duals and groups have initiated community photography activities all over the country, with little or no knowledge of each other. Whereas five years ago there were only a few projects, there are now dozens either doing community photography as their main work or using it in their other community activities. Despite different beginnings and relatively little contact between projects, most are developing working methods which are based on a similar set of principles. Community photography is about two kinds of access. It provides access to the work of experienced photographers outside the commercial and art worlds. This is made possible through self-published books and magazines and photographic exhibitions in laundrettes and pubs. It also provides access to expertise and resources so that local people can do photography themselves. Photography for the Community Community photography makes photo­ graphy relevant to local people by making them the main subjects, audience and users of the photographs produced. Through this greater contact with photographic processes people understand, appreciate and become more critical of all the photography they see. In addi­ tion, by providing the means for local people to learn photography themselves, diverse groups are brought together and they discover more, not just about photography but also about the community in which they live. Through making their own images people can break the mono­ poly professional communicators have over the representation of their lives. Resources for learning and doing photography have to be established before such work can happen. Properly maintained equipment must be available to lend to people on low incomes and to those who need it just a few crucial times a year. Resources should be based in places where people feel welcome and comfortable. This sometimes precludes educational estab­ lishments and galleries. Youth clubs, community centres, a house or flat turned over to the purpose are often more acceptable. Normally people need a strong interest in photography as a potential profession or hobby before they can get access to photographic facilities. Many courses require academic qualifications too. In neighbourhood dark­ rooms created by community photography pro­ jects there are no such restrictions. rojects try to avoid the possibility of equipment, technique and aesthetics dominating peoples’ interest. They aim to demystify both the technical and communi­ cations process of photography. Learning is usually done in small groups. The social interaction between people involved in learning to work as a group is often as important as the learning of photographic skills. People are usually free to learn at their own pace and to develop personal interests in a non-competitive atmosphere, but with the needs of the group and the community kept in mind. Very often people’s first pictures have some immediate practical use to a community group as well as being a means for the new photographer to express something personal. People running community photography projects need to have a primary and lasting commitment to their community. Their commit­ ment to their own interest in photography has to run a close second. There is usually an uneasy relationship between these two. Most projects are initiated by middle-class people in working-class communities. It takes several years for the local people to begin to understand and change their expectations of photography and the part it can play in their lives. It also takes time for photographers to adjust their expectations and redirect their imagination in response to local priorities. Workers in a community photography project generally need to learn administration, how to teach and raise funds. It takes time to learn these skills. Also since most community photography projects are so isolated and are constantly responding to local needs rather than following an ideal established model, an enormous amount of mistakes are made. Each project will probably independently work through similar problems because there is little contact between them. Many people involved with community photography work collectively. Groups often aim for a non-hierarchical structure. Workers try to take equal responsibility for managing the project and sometimes have equal pay. In community arts projects especially, workers exchange skills. Community photography requires the photo­ grapher to involve his or her subjects in deci­ sions about what to photograph, how to photo­ graph and how to use photography. It is often easy for the photographer to be the dominant voice because he or she is the most experienced. The ‘expert’s’ job is to build up people’s knowledge and confidence over a period of time, thus equipping them to make these decisions for themselves. t is not possible to understand the role and significance of community photo­ graphy by applying the attitudes and standards of established commercial and artistic photography. The primary aim of community photography is to create awareness and social interaction within a local setting. High technical and artistic quality is not always necessary. The effectiveness of community photography has to P I be measured in terms of the needs and expecta­ tions of the particular community involved. More images are needed which show the importance of the past and present contribution that working people have made to society and of the efforts made by working-class organisations to influence the direction of their fives. Commu­ nity photography has begun to provide these images. Such photographs, generated and collected locally can be distributed through community newspapers, posters, pamphlets and the litera­ ture produced by pressure groups. They often capture the interests of the mass media and this widens their audience considerably. However, there is a lot more to community photography than its products alone can demonstrate. Its value as process is important too. This includes the personal, cultural, social and political growth that is stimulated by the work of producing and using the photographs. For example, when a tenants’ association produces a tape/slide show they also learn about their neighbours, their community, campaign­ ing and self-assertion. People doing community photography do not identify with the established photographic community since they are not striving after commercial work or one-person shows at the Hayward Gallery. Often, once they start running darkrooms, teaching and administrat­ ing they have little time to take photographs themselves. They are not seen to be fully-fledged members of the community work movement either. Many do feel part of the community arts movement, but even here photography tends to be the least understood of the media involved. The media, photographic education estab­ lishments and the photographic community all perpetuate the image of the photographer as a lone creative individual. This sort of condi­ tioning does not make photographers fit comfortably into the community context where team work and collective creativity are needed. Once a community photography project gets under way it raises the expectations of local people and highlights their needs. If it fails there are several long-term repercussions. Newly realised photographic needs can no longer be met. More important, people’s morale is severely damaged. If people have begun to meet their own needs and then resources are cut off, it will be much harder for them to try again. They are already used to being of low priority in employment and housing. The failure of yet another venture reinforces their feelings of powerlessness. taff continuity on a project is important. The longer workers stay the better they know how to run the project and the more familiar they are with the community. However, the work on a community photo­ graphy project is stressful. Demands come from every direction. Learn to type. Get cameras repaired. Reorganise the darkroom booking system. Write a report. Get to a management meeting. Go to a funding meeting. Plan and run a workshop. Take photographs needed urgently for a public meeting. Visit a club for the elderly to see how they might use photography. Show the youth worker how to operate the slide projector. And so on. S Funding Even more important than the continuity of people is the continuity of the positions they hold. Both depend heavily on regular funding at realistic levels. Few aspects of community photography are a commercial proposition so fund-raising is a continuing priority. Few project workers have had much experience of fund-raising. The aims and concepts of community photography are often new to the potential funders. It is rare for all the funds for one project to come from one source. Different funders have very different criteria for their support. Worst of all,grants are rarely given for more than a year so fund-raising is a continuous drain on workers’ time. Community photography cuts across photography, community arts, education and community work. Funds for it have come from bodies associated with all these activities. Projects are faced with the dilemma that they want to fulfill the priorities and values of the community, yet they also have to be accountable to the funding bodies, who can exert pressure on policy and have the ultimate sanction of with­ drawing funds. The other approach to fund-raising is for projects to organise their own events - like sponsored concerts and jumble sales. These are hard work and don’t always bring in much money for the time put in to them. But they are often necessary to fill in funding gaps and they also create publicity. Some projects make a small amount of money through darkroom booking fees. The picture files which are being generated by community photography activities are becoming another source of income. he money problem is the plague of com­ munity photography projects. It creates an atmosphere of uncertainty and in­ security. The lack of a guarantee of continuity makes it difficult to make long-term plans, even though these are essential for achieving the full potential of such projects. In the end projects often survive only because project workers give their time free, either when living on the dole or by living off savings. Most workers have to work full-time for long periods on part-time wages. Those who have it put personal money into the projects and allow free use of their own equipment. T T he future Roy Shaw, Secretary General of the Arts Council of Great Britain, which is the main source of funds for the community arts, acknowledges that this area is under-funded. He is, however, careful to add that its activities should not grow by cutting the budgets of established art forms. Whether and how the balance will be re­ dressed between the arts appealing mainly to a wealthy minority and the development of working-class cultural arts activities will be a major factor in the future of community photo­ graphy and community arts. Future support and interest in community photography depends very much on the ability of projects to educate funders and the public about its practice and value. This is an extre­ mely difficult task. Most projects are so tied up in their local affairs that there is little time left for mounting major educational campaigns. The long-term future of community projects depends on achieving long-term funding. For the most experienced people in community photography to be able to continue to work in the field, many are going to need wages which enable them to support growing families. It is important not to draw' experienced people out of communities into colleges and such institutions to teach others. They would soon get out of touch. An apprenticeship scheme would be a better model to pursue. Community photography projects get caught in an accountability trap with responsibilities to the community, funders, fellow workers and national coordinating bodies. Since members of the community could become the weakest lobby, it is important that they are involved in the management structures of the projects in more than a token way. Few community photo­ graphy project groups as yet have any formal accountability to members of the community. Some argue that they would have to compro­ mise their vision of their intervention too much if they did so. This will be an important debate in the future of community photography. eople involved in community photo­ graphy need to get together, and to work out what theoretical and practical options are open to them. This issue of Camerawork deals with some of the ways of using photography in a local community. However I am wary of heralding this work as a major step forward in the democratisation of photography and society. There are many dilemmas to resolve yet before its real worth can be measured. For despite good inten­ tions, the extension of resources to the least powerful members of the society does not in itself bring about a change in people’s con­ sciousness or control over their fives. This is more determined by the particular uses the photographers and photographs are put to and the ideas which form the context of this work. These resources can be put to fascist as easily as socialist uses. If the photographic activities serve mainly to focus people’s consciousness on particular problems - eg. bad housing or unemployment, then the perspective gained is of only limited use. This is true too if awareness and action revolve totally around local identity, local problems and local needs. The local community cannot be seen as an isolated entity unto itself. It is a part of a wider economic unit and contains in microcosm its ideology and structures. For no matter where anyone fives or works, or what problems or needs they have, the primary issue is one of class. Working-class people through­ out the world have fewer resources, fewer oppor­ tunities and the least power. If community photography activities are really ‘developing the community’ then this issue of class needs to be taken into account when determining priorities. I think that it is crucial that people working in local communities look closely at the ideas about P 3 CAMERAWORK photography and politics produced by the more academic circles of the photographic community, and that they see how these ideas may be applied or developed among the people they are working with. For what is the long-term future of commu­ nity photography activities? Will the State try to subvert the power of community photography by making it fashionable, as a first step towards diffusing its potential? Is community photo­ graphy mainly a context for people to exercise their entrepreneurial spirit and find interesting jobs for themselves? Will community dark­ rooms be essentially entertainment centres where people can avoid confronting the causes of their powerlessness? Is using photography in community action and education blinding oeople to the fact that they are getting a voice but not a vote on decision-making committees? Will the growth of community photography mainly benefit the photographic companies who will be selling equipment and materials to increase their profits with the help of public mny oe ? Paul Carter P a u l Carter set up and ran the Blackfriars photo­ graphy project for five years. H e is now collecting information, with the help o f an Arts Council grant, for a book on the uses o f photography in the local community. This article is a very generalised overview o f the work going on and by no means a definitive statement; he would like feedback o f peoples’ reactions to this issue o f Camerawork to help better define what is going on with photo­ graphy in the community. H e can be contacted at 56 Chesil Street, Winchester. 510 Centre North Paddington Community Darkroom is based at the 510 Centre which is a meeting place and an information and advice centre. The Centre recently lost its Urban A id grant which is a large part of their funding. The grant was stopped by Westminster Council because o f a 'Don’t Vote N a z i’ leaflet put out by the Paddington Campaign Against Racism which is based at the Centre. The Darkroom has two part-time workers who provide a photographic resource in the form o f darkroom equipment and cameras. They also teach photo­ graphy and take pictures for the community. N icky Hughes spoke to Philip Wolmuth. When did the Centre itself actually start? The Centre has been going for about four years as an information and drop-in centre, funded by Urban Aid. It consists of a building and four part-time workers, two of whom work on the information desk, one administrator who does accounts and typing, and one group worker. Then there’s a whole lot of people like me who get grants from other places based here, so in fact there’s a staff of twelve. One person, for example, is funded by Shelter and works on housing with various tenants’ associations. We all have a commitment to the Centre and it actually takes all of us to keep it running. The four part-time people could in no way keep it running by themselves. Display made for Lanhill and Marylands Tenants’ Association There’s a lot of unemployment - a high propor­ tion of immigrants of all kinds who are either unemployed or working in low-paid jobs like catering or cleaning. There is a lousy council that’s done nothing about housing. H ow involved are the local people with the Darkroom? There are a lot of people interested in having photographs for themselves, for their groups or their activity. There’s a lot of demand for me to come along and take pictures but I’m trying to get people to take pictures for themselves. One of the blocks is that we haven’t had enough equipment. With the equipment grant that we got yesterday I want to buy some automatic cameras that you just have to focus and press the button. I think that will change things quite a lot. We should have had them ages ago. Do people come to the darkroom mostly through word o f mouth? Yes. That’s pretty effective because of the large number of groups that meet at the Centre. I’d say that every group that meets here has used the Darkroom in one way or another - tenants, pensioners’ groups, womens’ groups, guitar class. H ow do you function here? Photographs as evidence: fungus and damp in a hall­ way. For Walterton Road Residents’ Association H ow did you get involved? I was living locally and taking photographs for myself and was told that some people here wanted photographs taken. I did them and the demand seemed to grow and grow until it was suggested that I try and set up a proper project at the Centre. With quite a lot of help from Paddington Print Shop I wrote off grant appli­ cations and eventually got one from the Gulbenkian Foundation in 1976 - one part-time salary for a year. I got about £100 from the Centre here and £50 from a local charity and that was about it. I did an appeal on Capital Radio for an enlarger and got one. I built the darkroom and put in a bit of my own equipment. The Darkroom actually began working in November 1976 when we got the Gulbenkian grant. H ow are you funded? We, the Darkroom (we’re funded separately from the Centre) now have one full-time salary from the Arts Council. It started in April 1978. Apart from that we have no regular grants. We just managed to get a one-off equipment grant from the Gulbenkian - £880, which is basically the first equipment money we’ve ever had except for the £100 or so we had at the beginning. We’ve sort of scrounged the rest. We divide the salary between myself and Kathy Trevelyan. I get three days, she gets two. Her main responsibility is to do the classes. I do the rest. I tend to pick up all the loose ends. H ow would you describe the area you’re in? It’s a dump. It’s a large slum with no facilities. The Darkroom’s open and available to anyone who wants to use it. It’s pretty much booked up all through the week. It’s 15p per hour to use plus the cost of materials. All the materials are here. There are also cameras that can be loaned out. We have classes all day Wednesday, small groups. We do very little stuff with kids. It’s almost all adults. The teaching before was very informal and we haven’t been doing classes as such for very long. Now we’ve started to regularise it; on Wednesdays there are either two or three sessions in the day - morning, afternoon, and evening. People do come in to use the darkroom at other times and we give them help when necessary. H ow many people can you take in a class? It’s not a very big darkroom so it’s better if there’s no more than four. It varies from class to class. What’s been good is that, as we’ve developed, rather than only individual users coming along, we’ve had two or three groups of people who’ve started using it regularly there’s a class that comes from the local women’s centre and an adult literacy scheme. There’s always one or two people in a group who are interested in going the whole way and learning all about photography. Do you have a deliberate policy not to work with kids? In a way, yes. I enjoy working with kids but if we wanted to work with kids in a large way it would take up all the resources of the Darkroom. I prefer trying to explore other ways that photography can be used because being based in this Centre there are a lot of community groups that are involved in all sorts of political and local community action and they all need photographs. It’s much easier in a way to work with adults than with kids because we can give them three or four classes and get them on the right road and then they can just come in and book the darkroom without supervision any time they want. I’ve done that a lot and I sometimes find it frustrating. I have a plan to the extent that I have a political view about what goes on in the community and how I see various people in this Centre operating in the community. I see the Darkroom very much linked to what the local groups are doing. I have certain reasons for doing this work which are primarily because I’m really interested in photography. I want to be taking lots of pictures and encouraging other people to do the same. The two things sometimes conflict. Like sometimes, if I were given the chance. I’d be quite happy to take a whole lot of pictures for somebody even though I perhaps should be putting a lot more work into encouraging them to do it; on the other side of that is the time factor. Some weeks I can spend my whole time writing letters, doing administration, phoning people up, that sort of thing, which leaves absolutely no time for photography at all. It’s a compromise. Do you do the administration o f the Darkroom? Yes, my work involves a lot of administration. Every other day I have to write letters to do with grants, accounts, insurance. I have to do the stocking of the Darkroom so I have to keep a check of what’s there. I also have certain responsibilities to the Centre as a whole. We work as a collective. Do you do quite a lot o f service photography? Yes, there’s quite a demand for display boards, leaflets, etc. There are also people coming in who want photographs for newsletters, or posters, or evidence for something. As likely as not, they should be able to find them in the files. If not, I’ll do it for them. Incidentally, the files are not files of prints. They’re files of contact sheets which, unfortunately. I’m the only person who really understands. D o you find yourselves always responding to a need? W hat about exhibitions? When we’ve got the time, we try and do special projects - we did a large permanent travelling exhibition for the National Empty Property Campaign, who are based here. Initially, this was done for a press conference in the House of Commons that was called by the local MP. It’s been going all around the country to various housing action centres. More recently we did another exhibition: I’d been involved in setting up a large Community Arts Centre up the road called ‘the Factory’. They paid me a full-time salary to continue running the Darkroom here on a part-time basis if I did them an exhibition for their opening day, which was May 1st 1978. As they’re a big community leisure centre they wanted me to find out what was going on in the area, what facilities were available, what people did in their spare time. The idea was to involve as many people as possible in taking these pictures and in creating the exhibition. But the vast majority of the pictures were taken by me which was a shame. I became a bit disillusioned about using photo­ graphs to create exhibitions. The exhibition took a lot of time and trouble. When it was up for the opening it was really well received but after a few days I think it just becomes like wall­ paper. I think that there is a specific galleryexhibition viewing public, which isn’t the sort of public which lives round here. I don’t think that people round here are used to looking at pictures in that way or even want to. In a way I think their attitude’s quite healthy and I don’t want to change it. I mean why should they want to look at an exhibition? The things I want to do now are tape-slide shows. I think they reach people in a different way. They can also really involve people in the making of them in a way that with exhibitions it’s more difficult to do. For instance even if I ended up taking all the pictures for a tape-slide 4 CAMERAWORK show, there’s still a lot of creative work in ordering them, editing them, writing the script, which people in tenants associations could easily do. We are working on a tape-slide show about the problems faced by workers, in the main migrants on work permits in the catering industry. The catering industry is an important employer in North Paddington and is renowned for its chronic low pay and appalling working conditions. We got involved in this project mainly through one of the workers at the Centre, a Columbian employed by the Commission for Racial Equality. A lot of his case-work has involved dealing with migrants facing deportation and other difficulties as a result of the work-permit system and the way it operates in the catering industry. A group of Columbian catering workers that he has been dealing with were very interested in learning photography, so we arranged a series of classes with him as translator. As part of their classes they decided to take some pictures of conditions in the kitchens where they worked. We will be using some of these in the tape-slide show. They will also be helping to make the tape. W hatdoyou think are the successes o f the Darkroom? A lot of people are using it and getting a lot of enjoyment out of it. Plus the photographs are actually used for something: they’ve made a lot of difference to all the various pamphlets and leaflets that have been put out from here. It’s also automatic here now that if someone wants to put out a leaflet they come for a photograph. A lot of people have got a lot of pleasure out of making the photographs; other people and they themselves have got a lot of pleasure out of looking at them. knowledge the children have already. Where they know very little we work first of all with pinhole cameras. We have up to twelve children in a group and we provide each of them with a biscuit tin which they make into a pinhole camera. We encourage them to take whatever they feel like and advise them on the length of time to leave the sticky tape off and to make sure it’s put back securely. W e’re there the whole time but the emphasis is that they do it all. They very quickly take to it. We’d probably do that type of work for a day. Then gradually, over the following sessions we would take the children through all the processes. Are there problems working within a school? One of the very real problems we’re facing in schools at the moment is the indefiniteness of the kids turning up. We’ve been invited to schools partly as an attempt to overcome the truancy problem; we’ve definitely been dealing with those children on the periphery of the school. There’s an excitement level attached to those people who arrive from outside the school or playscheme and who offer something interest­ ing and different. It can undermine what’s already going on in the timetable. In our area this is a current debate in the community arts field - the relative value of the communitybased artist as opposed to the mobile community artist. W hat were the problems o f the first project? The problem was that the people who were teaching were relatively unfamiliar with informal teaching situations where you need the sort of expertise that is not necessarily photo­ graphic but more a communication skill than anything else: an ability to put people at their ease. W hat happened to all the people involved in the teaching? The Job Creation money ran out in August 1978 and so did the jobs. Some of the people are doing photography still though none of it’s really what they want to do photographically but there’s no opportunity in Manchester for them to use their skills. Richard decided he wanted to continue the project. The fact that it got going at all again was due to his determination and commitment to the idea. North West Arts agreed to fund the salary of one worker but there was no other money from Do groups always approach you first or do you sometimes approach them? It’s primarily them approaching us. We are being increasingly asked to do exhibitions. We’ve got three to do in a matter of a few months. It’s not something that the original project did before. When we work with groups we’d like to think that we might be heading towards holding an exhibition. At the moment a hospital is asking for an exhibition to put in their waiting room and we will concentrate on the work done by children. We’ll also use it as publicity for what we do. Also the NW Arts are interested in us taking photographs of both our own activities and those of other community arts groups with a view to an exhibition. Do you deal only with ‘straight’ photography? We feel an important part of this scheme is the opportunity to introduce new techniques. We have to learn about these. We’ve got interested but also inside them, towards people coming in and disrupting the routine. H ow do you see your role then? As a non-community based project we are making skills and ideas available to a variety of groups who are not necessarily ‘communities’ in the generally understood sense of a geographical area. We feel it is important that people gain their independence photographically so that we can move onto other groups and different areas. B u t do you find that many groups do gain their independence? This is a problem. We have consistently worked with some groups and yet they’ve come back again to ask us to run a project. But to balance that, the Ordsall High School where we’ve been teaching has a different attitude - the Head­ master there has put aside funds to establish a darkroom and buy cameras and the necessary equipment. Do you do any service photography other than the exhibitions you’ve been asked to provide? Other people who stage exhibitions know that we tend to have photographs illustrating certain viewpoints. We aren’t exactly non-partisan in the comments we make through photographs, e g, anti-Nazi demonstrations. Do you support campaigns or issues such as housing? I think we certainly will in the future. We don’t really do anything like that now though. It’s largely a matter of energy. I feel very motivated to record what’s happening locally and to encourage other people to use photography in that way too. However, our emphasis at present is work with children. S o do you think you are contributing in some part to social change by what you are doing here? W ill it be a natural step for you to establish a base where people could come to you for workshops? How can you assess that? I have no idea. It’s difficult to separate photography from the overall activity of the various groups and campaigns. It’s also difficult to assess exactly how much those groups are contributing to change. It’s not all a matter of photography. I’d very much like that. Our new premises in Oldham offer more opportunity of that in terms of size and facilities available. Whatever scheme we work on now, we want to have something concrete, to achieve a deliberate objective. I must say that I personally did have some mis­ givings when I started. I thought, ‘Will kids really be able to do that?’ I wasn’t convinced until I’d done my first workshop. These kids were spending hours of concentrated activity, they just couldn’t do enough. They were asking all the most pertinent questions. It was a dazzling reinforcement of the idea that anyone can learn photography. Split Image S p lit Image is based in Manchester and works with children in Greater Manchester and Cheshire. They have two full-time workers who run work­ shops to teach children photography, training work­ shops for playworkers and youthworkers and playscheme projects in the school holidays. N icky Hughes spoke to Helen Bridges. Beaford Archive H ow did Split Image begin? Helen White and Richard Raby, who’s still with the project, were working with Manchester Youth and Community Service (MYCS). Helen was particularly interested in setting up a photo­ graphy project. They undertook it as a Job Creation Scheme and got funding from MYCS. They set up the project early in 1977 and it was funded until August 1978. The project had two full-time supervisors - Helen and Richard - and five full-time trainees, all employed under Job Creation. It was a big scheme that had problems attached because of their inexperience in running something like that. W hat were their ideas? Very much community-oriented. They worked with any agencies - clubs, adventure play­ grounds, schools, etc - that were interested in introducing photography to their children. They wanted to introduce the idea that photo­ graphy needn’t be the sole realm of the expert, the professional, but that it could be a very creative medium that inexperienced people could use. H ow did they start work with children? With certain groups they did day projects, e g, Manchester Free School and Ordsall High School in Salford. They not only worked with groups of children aged from five upwards but also ran workshops with groups of playleaders, youth workers, etc who were interested in using photography on their sites. An important part of Split Image’s intention then and now is to initiate the idea and teach the relevant skills to the point where the play­ ground, school, or club would be prepared to spend a bit of money and set up their own darkroom. D id they set up darkrooms on the spot at places they went to? Yes. They would arrive and select a suitable space which was quite often the toilet, and simply convert it. W hat sort o f children’s workshops do you do on site? It depends on the kind of information and Richard Raby from Split Image working with children from Ordsell Free School. them for running costs. He had an enlarger and some cameras left from the Job Creation project. It was then put to NW Arts that another worker was needed to make the scheme viable. They have a very sympathetic community arts panel. The scheme had been a success so it was relatively easy to get another full-time salary approved. in tape-slide shows which are a sort of extension of the straightforward taking of shots. This involves taking sequences and dramatising or producing a story, mixing music and sounds with images. We spent a day producing two slide sequences at Burton Manor in Cheshire where they have the necessary equipment to do this. H ow do you fund your activities now? Why are you particularly interested in tape-slide? It’s a matter of making more applications for grants, e g, we’ve applied to Granada Tele­ vision, the Gulbenkian Trust, Marks and Spencers. We do ask for some payments from user groups, if they can afford it, to cover costs of materials, but usually they’re as hard up as we are. We are also under the umbrella of MYCS so we get all sorts of benefits from that in terms of accommodation and some sort of outlay towards rates. When did you join the project and how did you become involved? I joined in November 1978. I’d done a bit of work for the Manchester Free School so I knew about Split Image. I’m a teacher and I’m very interested in the educational aspects of the project. I like the idea of a constructive creative medium which allows people to develop their own insights and make their own statements as well as teaching them a skill. D id you do any photography before you joined Split Image? Not to any large extent. I’d taken lots of photos but I hadn’t done any processing. There’s been a lot to learn. The idea is that photography should be accessible to anyone. That should apply to me, so Richard gave me a crash threeday course before I started. I think that it’s a viable project to do with a group of children. Using tapes and slides we can entertain whilst producing, say, a record of a day at the adventure centre or a day’s outing, with people talking through it as the narrative. It’s exciting and affords a little bit more of a live concept than a static print. There’s a lot of work that children can get involved with in producing a tape-slide show. Are there other specific projects you’re working on? There are two other projects we’ll be working on from early in 1979: one is with a group of young offenders. We were approached by a social worker who has a group he works with on evenings and weekends. He has concentrated a lot on sporting activities and weekend trips away. He wants us to do a scheme that would give them scope to develop their self-awareness and self-respect while learning something new. They are all under 14 and therefore under the age of criminal responsibility and in difficult family set-ups. The other project is working in a psychiatric hospital with adults. We’re anxious to do this sort of work as there is a great need in hospitals for some sort of creative activity. There is great hardship experienced by people who are cut off from and ignored by society. At the same time there are a lot of obstacles that seem to come from prejudice, not only outside the hospitals, The Beaford Photographic Archive is part o f the Beaford Arts Centre in central North Devon. The Centre was founded eleven years ago by the Darlington Hall Trust with the aim o f revitalising the area. The archive employs onefull-time and one part-time worker who are building up an Archive o f copies o f old photographs and modem documenta­ tion o f the area. N icky Hughes spoke to Jam es Ravilious. H ow did you get involved with the Beaford Centre? The Archive proper started in 1971; a photo­ grapher called Roger Deakins was asked by the Centre to make a record of modern Devon. He worked for a year until the money ran out and the whole thing was more or less dropped. In 1972 I got a job teaching wood-engraving and lino-cutting for evening classes at the Beaford Centre. I asked the director if I could take a few pictures. Did you have a photography background? No, originally I was very anti it. I didn’t like it at all. I was trained as a designer. I was a painter manque, I think they call it - a failed painter. I was teaching drawing but I gradually took a few pictures and really liked it. When I came here it was suggested that I be paid £15 a week to keep the Archive going. In fact I worked full-time on it. I didn’t do anything else. It was so interesting to do. I bought the equipment and that was it. With your own money? Yes. All the cameras and the best darkroom equipment at my house are my own. What kind o f area do you cover? We are in an area which is claimed, and I dispute this, to be a depressed area: poor industry, mostly farming, mosdy relying on holiday­ makers. There’s more money made from tourism than from farming in North Devon. Therefore statistically I suppose you can say it is a depressed area but I have a fierce feeling that if you go around saying this it becomes selffulfilling. It’s an area of small farms. There are lots of young people who are unemployed, so people are tending to go to the towns. CAMERAWORK Dolton circa 1910 Landkey circa 1880 When you started here, did you have an overall plan? N o, I almost never have a plan. Simply by living in a place for a long time, by sheer accumulation of what you see out of the comer of your eye, you build up a total picture. I went to the dentist the other day with my wife and I took pictures of the dentist. Gradually you take the shop­ keepers, the doctor . . . it all adds up. So after five years, which is how long I’ve been here, I have a huge collection. Now that’s the great strength of the Archive. If you wanted an exhibition on thatch or hedging, I could provide you with one tomorrow. O f course when I say I’ll provide you with one tomorrow I’d probably have to take a few fill-in pictures, but it’s all basically there. We’ve got all kinds of exhibitions, on farming, landscapes and also things like ‘Follies and Grottoes of North Devon’. You also copy old photographs, don’tyou? How did this begin? That was how we originally started. It seemed to us that it was very rich here, very untouched. I decided to start from the centre and work outwards, so I started with Dolton, my own village?! went to a farmer’s wife I knew who had 70 or 80 really good pictures. I copied these photographs - some family snaps, lots of Dolton and a few from round about. I asked them if they had friends or relatives who might have more. I’d go to those people and so it went on. And I thought why not make a slide-show of them? People would come. So originally it was slide shows o f old pictures? Yes. Ashreigney was the first village we chose. W'e collected everything we possibly could. It’s done systematically, and all cross-referenced. We chose 70 or 80 slides and tried to make a story - starting with the village itself, the people, the shops, then the jolly events, the carnivals. When it was all ready we were sitting down waiting for perhaps 20 or 30 people to come when suddenly, about five minutes before the show began, the entire village to a man appeared - 112 people. We also had a little exhibition of objects that people had collected in their own homes - clothes, tools, fantastic old things. I didn’t really give a talk. I just showed the village. In the slide show I showed a selection of other photographs from round about, at first, and then when the first slide of Ashreigney came up there was an ‘aaaaaaah’. It was a terribly boring picture but they were absolutely set alight. From then on I was shouting to say what was on the slides. The pictures were probably mostly about the Twenties when the village photographers were there, and they’re very good plate camera contact prints, marvellous quality. In fact at the time I wasn’t thinking of extending the slide-shows. I did that one because I liked the people and they’d been very helpful. Archie Parkhouse. Dolton 1975 James Ravilious palaver, and it can go into the smallest village hall. T hat’s the most important thing. You tailor the exhibition to the village. Most of them are farmers, and farmers are damn busy and they don’t have time to go to the exhibitions, so I must try and take them to the villages. The general idea is lightness and flexibility so a large exhibition of 90-100 photographs can easily go in my small three-wheeler. Are you interested in taking the exhibitions further afield? Well, we’ve so far only done one or two exhibi­ tions outside this area. I’ve had one at Southampton University, one at the Reading Museum of Rural Life and one in Brest, in France, at the Palais des Arts et de la Culture. Also I’m hopeful of an exhibition in London next year. So you’re looking outward quite a lot? I’m being pushed that way, quite rightly, because I think in order to survive and get the grants the Archive has to be a bit famous. What about publications? The only book that I’ve done that is finished and is definitely coming out is called All Around the Year, published by John Murray. It is partly an educational book. It’s a diary of a farm and I’ve taken photographs throughout the year. There are 52 pictures, some drawings by my wife and 12 poems by Ted Hughes. What about posters and postcards? Well the accountant at Dartington Hall put up some money to print four posters. Unfortu­ nately they’re rather too large and it’s difficult to get people to stock them. But the postcards, they sell like hot cakes, locally anyway. We do a set of 12: six old photographs and six new. Do you have any contact with schools? Yes, I’m beginning to. They use the Archive because they are often out looking at buildings and I can show them how things have changed. I’ve started giving talks to schools. I was talking about thatch and cob at a school last week and it went down very well. That particular school has asked me to do three different classes for the next year. Do you provide photographs for schools? I’ve just packed off 105 of my own photographs to the Devon Schools Museum Service, who already have a large selection of both old and What about funding? I ’m always relying on grants that are sporadic. The principal source of income is the South West Arts but I’m on a sliding scale so the grant gets less every year. I get a small grant from the local council and some money from Dartington Hall - little bits here and there, scrabbling for money. One’s future is always uncertain. One feels constantly threatened. It would be nice to think that we could get one solid grant. A lot of photographers working on this sort of project find that they are spending so much time trying to justify themselves, and trying to get money and generally hassling, that they have no time for photography. What about the future? There’s the Barns Project. The Beaford Centre owns three barns, in a row, which we want to turn into a permanent place for the Archive. It’s not being exploited anything like as much as it could be, so the idea is that in the barns we have a darkroom, a place for people to study, a project room, a shop perhaps and a little library And then there would be an exhibition place. W e’d have a good cross-section of what the Archives contains - the early photographs and the modern ones. It could become a tourist attraction - there’s a nice garden for teas, it’d be a pleasant afternoon out - although I think it is important to stress that the Archive is princi­ pally for local people. It’s Devon’s own history for Devonians. Union Place Union Place was started in 1974 by a group of people living and working in central North Lambeth. They believe that consciousness, organisation and action in this deprived area of South London could be assisted by providing people with practical means of communication. The Centre works with local groups producing posters, exhibitions, leaflets, newspapers, badges and so on. They work as a collective of around ten people of whom two to three work with photography. Nicky Hughes spoke to Dave McKay and Terry Crabtree. When and why was Union Place set up? It’s been going over 416 years now. The idea for the place came out of experience inside housing groups on local estates and squatting groups and so on. Virtually the only way you could get a leaflet done in those days was to go to North London. That stifled a lot of local initiative. Initially, the idea was just to produce stuff like local leaflets but it grew quite quickly. Groups were finding out that it wasn’t simply a matter of duplicating leaflets. They were finding out more and more that they were confronting the State in quite a public way. They realised that some­ thing a little more sophisticated than a grotty half-readable sheet was required. So it moved from duplicating to including silkscreen and then we got an offset machine. Over the last 4Vi years, silk screen, offset and photography have been available to groups coming in on the principle of us showing people how to produce their own posters, photographs, exhibitions, leaflets, booklets. During that time, user groups have gone up from forty in the first year to 400 now. How did it get going? Originally it was open only in the evenings and the people who ran it went on working in their own jobs. Money was raised by holding jumble sales and there was a donation of a duplicator. As far as I can work out the people who started Union Place moved in and then asked the GLC if they could stay. The building is on a short lease for a very reasonable rent. How would you describe the area you’re in? One of the poorest areas in North Lambeth. The area has suffered blight from the planners. Houses have been knocked down and during the time that Union Place got going people were being evicted from those houses. A lot of big industry has moved out in response to the Government initiatives of the Sixties so there’s very little work for people. The net result of that is that you have a high population of old people and single parents: a very poor community. People either move out to get work or they’re unemployed. Was photography used at Union Place right from the beginning? Yes, some of the people who started Union Place had been doing photography for some time. Very early on, two streets round here that were squatted were billed for demolition and Union Place produced a number of street exhibitions which were used to support the demands that these squatting groups had. Union Place was working with these groups, not just providing a service but encouraging people to join in. What kind of street exhibition? The first one that I was involved in was around Villa Road. We helped produce an exhibition that was a brief photographic history of the street. It included what the plans for the houses were, how long it had taken the council to decant people, what was happening to the houses in between times plus the kinds of things that were going on in the street - street meetings, squatting houses, houses being wrecked by the council, etc. And was it because of the response that you realised that this was something that could really be developed? Yes, we decided to provide slide-shows and the various Womens’ Institutes organised them, and it’s gone from strength to strength. I’m booked up now for the next year. How do you do exhibitions? We’re doing four in four different villages. One every fortnight - probably present day photo­ graphs. There’ll be four prints to a stand and these stands, wooden T-pieces, stand on trestletables because all village halls have trestletables. This way we can have an exhibition put up for a day and taken down quickly without new photographs. St Giles in the Wood circa 1910 Were these exhibitions geared towards the council? No, towards the general public. For example, we went to the centre of Brixton with the Villa Road exhibition on the big shopping day in the market. The exhibition was fairly crudely pre­ sented and not very sophisticated at that time. We leaned the boards against the railings at one of the busiest junctions - no permission from the police but they didn’t seem to mind. I learned some interesting things about present­ ing photographs. The whole function of a 6 CAMERAWORK projects was looking at Camberwell New Road. We were suggesting to the kids using photo­ graphy in such a way that they could pick up on ideas through it, or on the reality around them that simply hadn’t been articulated. Of course, that works for adults as well as it does for kids. I think that quite often they get a sense of them­ selves that had been missing before, that expresses something concretely outside them­ selves. This type of process is very important. The particular way I think that it is important is working through something in a collective fashion. The whole process of learning in a group how to use photographs might well provide for some people a whole model of collective practice they simply haven’t experienced before. This particularly applies to people who are employed in hierarchical situa­ tions and whose domestic situation is very often an isolated nuclear family. To experience the collective way of organising is much easier than say fighting a battle on your own whether it be which prints to choose or supporting a Compul­ sory Purchase Order. gallery or an exhibition in a gallery has to be seen as a middle-class one, unless it’s some­ where obvious like in a trades hall but even then, the extent to which it is public is quite limited. We found that by putting the exhibition right there where people were we got a very good response. It gave us a chance too to hand out a bit of literature and talk about our particular situation. I’ve often felt that a lot of images broadly produced by the Left become stereotypes unless they’re talked through. Design of our exhibitions has become very important. We have had to draw people from a distance over to look at an exhibition, that’s why we use photographs in odd shapes, in triangles, hexagons, and so on. People will cross the street to look at them. What about funding? During its second year Union Place started to receive a small amount of money, basically for administration and overheads. A small propor­ tion was left over which amounted to three quarters of a salary between five people. Last year it was £9,000 but you can see how that much relates to the financial needs of the place when you realise that the collective has nearly always been between seven and ten people. People have mainly been on Social Security. It’s very much a case of people donating their time. It wras just about sufficient in conjunction with the printing revenue. We’ve always charged people cost price plus a small overhead charge. When Inner City funds became available there was a feeling that we ought to apply. Noone wants to go on working for nothing no matter how politically sound a motivation it is. We applied for all sorts of monies in 1977 but we were turned down on every front. Our first successful application was made at the beginning of 1978. We made an application for the running of Union Place as a whole, for the photography project as a separate project, an outreach worker, and extra money for what we call Community Education Workshops, which teach skills, including photography. We’d identify local groups who we’d get interested in that, e g, women on local estates, shop stewards in the area, and kids. Up to now the State has defined certain areas within its responsibility as deserving of finance, split up rigidly into housing, social services, health, etc. Nowhere is there a category that covers popular communication. Our applica­ tion had such good local support that we were able to lobby. We asked for letters from all our user gro
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorSantiago Castrillon, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Kate Saunders, Siddhiratna, Chris Steele-Perkins
      • author_writerEd Molony, Karen Margolis, Liz Curtis, Ron McKay, Steve Peak, Belinda Loftus, Paul Carter, Chris Steele-Perkins
      • author_photographerBo Bojesen, Neil Goldstein, Colin Jones, Bill Kirk, Alain Le Garsmeur, Buzz Logan, Raissa Page, Syd Shelton, Peter Marlow, Chris Steele-Perkins, Homer Sykes, Peter Kennard, Brian Aris,
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweePhilip Elliot, Colin Jones, Simon Hoggart, Lord Justice-General Cooper, Bo Bojeson, Simon Winchester, Syd Shelton, Tom Atkins, Andrew Stephen, Chris Steele-Perkins
      • author_organisation
      • tagshistory of ireland,paramilitary organisations,1916 easter rising,sinn fein,unionists,british army,british empire,ulster defence regiment,bloody sunday massacre,ira,ruc,internment,catholic communities,housing,child poverty,sectarian violence,the troubles,unemployment,republicans,long kesh prison,british press,british media,peter kennard,daily mirror,mcgurk's bar bombing 1971,roy mason,sunday times,daily express,daily mail,steve chibnall,orange movement,infrastructure,industrial development,john z delorean,workers' research unit,peace rally 1976,visor magazine,army intelligence photography,special branch,ira funerals,snatch squads,tom atkins,syd shelton,colin jones,buzz logan,bo bojesen,chris steele-perkins,raissa page,photo-journalism,upi,social work today,censorship,the observer,mass surveillance,army computers,dhss,police surveillance,tony benn,amnesty international,police violence,castlereagh holding centre,war & conflict peace movement,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 14
      • subtitleIssue 14: Reporting on War & Conflict. Special Issue
      • dimension21 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Ed Molony, Karen Margolis, Liz Curtis, Ron McKay, Steve Peak, Belinda Loftus, Paul Carter, Bo Bojesen, Neil Goldstein, Colin Jones, Bill Kirk, Alain Le Garsmeur, Buzz Logan, Raissa Page, Syd Shelton, Peter Marlow © Peter Marlow/Magnum Photos, Chris Steele-Perkins, Homer Sykes, Peter Kennard, Brian Aris, Philip Elliot, Colin Jones, Simon Hoggart, Lord Justice-General Cooper, Simon Winchester, Tom Atkins, Andrew Stephen
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK. War & Conflict, UK (pg 4-7) Ulster, West Belfast, Lower Falls (pg 9) Derry, Armagh, Fermanagh, Tyrone, Antrim (pg 14-16) Shankill, New Lodge, The Markets, Creggan
      • copyright_obtained0
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      • origination_date1979
      • origination_year1979
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:58:05
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      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • pdf_text1 CAMERAWORK ■ i On the 14th of August 1979 British troops will have been on active service in Northern Ireland for 10 years. Our understanding of the situation in Northern Ireland has been conditioned by press and television coverage which encourages the notion of a community, decimated by religious bigotry and mindless violence being held in check by the peace keeping British Army. There has been little attempt to provide a reasoned explanation for these violent events that considers their history and economic motivations. The general assumption that the military presence is a necessity is rarely questioned. In Vietnam film and photography played a significant role in changing public understanding of American involvement in the war there, leading to American withdrawal. It is fair to say that photography has not played this role in Northern Ireland. Thousands of photographs have been taken there, but the few that appear in the British press have concentrated on the violence, underlining ‘The tragedy of it all’. The way they have been used distorts our under- standing of events by failing to put them into an appro­ priate context. The information we receive is censored both by the Army and by editorial decisions within the media. Camerawork makes no claims to provide answers to the problems of Northern Ireland; but we feel that we can publish photographs in a context that will demystify the issues that affect the Six Counties - a context in which they can be understood. So far the Daily Mirror has been the only national newspaper to call for the government to set a date for military withdrawal from Northern Ireland. Camera­ work endorses this view - recognising that military withdrawal does not in itself resolve these problems. However, it is an essential first step towards creating a climate in which an acceptable political solution can be found. The situation in Ireland directly affects us all in Britain. Civil liberties and democracy are being steadily eroded. It is in all our interests to bring back the army from our nearest and last major colony. SHORT HISTORY OF IRELAND keeping control of Ireland was to colonise it. This was known as ‘plantation’. Just as the Pilgrim Fathers drove the Indians off the best land in America, so the native Irish were driven off their land, which was given to settlers from England and Scotland. It is from these settlers that today’s Irish Protestants are descended. ULSTER Northern Ireland Area 5,000 sq. miles Pop. 1,500,000 Irish Republic Area 27,000 sq. miles Pop. 3 million 1. Ireland today is divided into four provinces: Ulster, Leinster,ConnaughtandMunster. These are the four provinces of ancient Ireland before the British came. The section marked with a Union Jack has a population of one and a half million, about the same as that of Birmingham. It is ruled by Britain; the whole of Ireland was ruled by Britain until 1921. 4. This situation has existed for 800 years, since England first invaded Ireland in 1169. There are two main reasons why Britain has always wanted to control Ireland. The first is strategic, the second is economic - for hundreds of years the exploitation of Ireland’s agri­ cultural products and cheap labour has been a major prop to the British economy. 7. The native Irish were still Catholics. Religion became the badge that distinguished the invaders from the people they had dispossessed. In other countries skin colour has played this part. King William of Orange is still a hero to the settlers’ descendants because he was a Protes­ tant king who successfully defended Ireland against the Catholic King James, who sided with the native Irish. The Protestant organisa­ tion, the Orange Order, is named after William of Orange. 9. Again and again, the unbearable conditions drove the Irish to revolt. They were met with martial law and violent repression. This engraving of a travelling gallows dates from the Rising of the United Irishmen in 1798. The British not only used military means to put down the Rising, they also used the tactics of divide and rule. 2. It has been said that Irish history is divided into two parts: first, the British repressing Irish men and women . . . 5. English soldiers in Ireland in the late 1500s return from battle carrying several heads. A series of brutal wars were fought to try and gain control of the whole of Ireland. The northeast put up the most determined resistance and was not conquered until 1607. 3. . . . and second, Irish men and women fighting back. If you read the papers or watch television you will know the first as ‘keeping the peace’ and the second as ‘terrorism’. 6. The cheapest and most efficient way of 8. By 1700 the native Irish owned only 15% of the land in Ireland, though they were three quarters of the population. The huge increase in the transfer of land between 1640 and 1688 results from the Cromwellian conquest. After the Irish people had risen against British rule in 1641, Cromwell carried out a campaign of exter­ mination and confiscation of their land. At the siege of Drogheda, 30,000 Catholics were slaughtered. Thousands of Irish people were sold as slaves and shipped to Barbados. 10. Wolf Tone, the leader of the United Irish­ men, was a Protestant, and so, at first, were many of his followers. They were Presbyterian manufacturers and merchants who objected to the way the big landowners, in alliance with Britain, were holding back the development of industry in Ireland. The British decided to play on religious differences to divide and defeat the movement. The British General Knox said ‘I have arranged . . . to increase the animosity between Orangemen and the United Irish. Upon that This issue of CAMERAWORK, August 1979, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119/121 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. is designed to provided a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photo­ graphy, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. The people who worked on this issue were Santiago Castrillon, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Kate Saunders, Siddhiratna, Chris Steele- Perkins. (ISSN 0308 1676) CAMERAWORK animosity depends the safety of the centre counties of the N orth.’ Ireland continued. Any Irish industry which threatened to compete with Britain was suppressed, so that most of Ireland remained agricultural. Lenin wrote: ‘Britain owes her ‘brilliant’ economic development and the ‘prosperity’ of her industry and commerce largely to her treat­ ment of the Irish peasantry. While Britain ‘flourished’, Ireland moved towards extinction and remained an undeveloped, semi-barbarous, purely agrarian country, a land of povertystricken peasant farmers.’ from the yoke of England and for the establish­ ment of a free and independent government on Irish soil.’ at a meeting of the Orange Order in 1963 ‘Many a company director has marched with his lodge today, shoulder to shoulder with wage earners. This is a healthy state of affairs. This is the right grounds on which to build the soundest of industrial relations.’ In spite of the fact that a higher percentage of workers are in trade unions in the north of Ireland than in Britain, trade union militancy died in 1919. Unemployment has always been higher there, and real income much lower. Hack m d T an * Illl llll-ll I'll W k l \ N T I I \ 16. Irish people were portrayed as ape-like savages from the early 1800s until 1920 - from the point of view of the British ruling class, all the peoples of the Empire looked like this. The same attitude is shown today in so-called Irish jokes. 21. When Carson mobilised a Protestant para­ military force, the Ulster Volunteer Force, UVF (above) to oppose Home Rule for Ireland, the Liberal Government in London instructed the Army to move against them. But a brigadier and 54 officers at the Curragh military camp mutinied and refused to move against the UVF. The Government backed down. n a m e d a tta r a paefc of hunting h ou n d * 25. The British recruited a new force, the ‘Black and Tans’ who pursued a policy o f‘indis­ criminate reprisals’: shootings, burnings, looting, large-scale arrests and widespread destruction. Meanwhile in the north east troops were ordered not to interfere as Orange mobs and the Special Constabulary continued pogroms against the Catholics. Between 1920 and 1922 428 people were killed, 1,766 wounded, 8,750 Catholics were driven from their jobs and 23,000 Catholics made homeless. UI.STKR Northern Ireland Area 5,000 sq. miles Pop. 1,500,’000 Irish Republic Area 27,000 sq. miles Pop. 3 million 12. In the terrible famine of 1845-9 a million people died. The tragedy was that the famine was artificial; there was enough food in Ireland to feed the starving people, but the peasants had to sell their produce in order to pay their rents to absentee landlords. When charity ships came from Europe with food for famine relief, they were surprised to see six times as many ships leaving Ireland with cargoes of grain, wool and flax. 17. York St. Mills, Belfast, before the first World War - it was then the largest in the world. The north east of Ireland was to become a base of opposition to Irish independence. While the rest of Ireland had remained mainly agricultural, the north east had been industrialised under the control of British capital. By the end of the nineteenth century, over three quarters of Irish industry was con­ centrated in the Belfast area. NAILEDTOTHEAMT 22. Sackville Street in flames. The 1916 Easter Rising in Dublin marked the first great crack in the British Empire. Bernard Porter of Hull University wrote recently: ‘Ireland was where the colonial rot really set in. That Britain could not keep firm hold even of her ‘Other Island’ was ominous. Colonial nationalists looked on, and drew their own conclusions.’ Within three years, Britain was to be faced with a wave of revolt throughout the empire, beginning in Egypt, India, Iraq and Persia. 13. Emigrants being blessed by their parish priest. Between 1845 and 1855 two million destitute people left the country for Britain, the United States, Canada and Australia. 18. The industrialists were fearful for their position if the link with Britain was lost. Under the leadership of Carson, a Conservative MP, they mounted a violent campaign to oppose the Liberal Party’s Home Rule Bill. 14. Evictions continued throughout the nine­ teenth century, just as in Scotland, peasants were driven from their land and replaced by flocks and herds. Here British soldiers and police help to break down the door of a cottage with a battering ram. In 1841 there were over eight million people in Ireland; by 1891 there were just over four and a half million. 15. The Fenian movement, which was formed in the 1860s, called for ‘the liberation of Ireland 23. The Easter Rising was savagely suppressed by the British. Fourteen of the leaders, includ­ ing James Connolly, were executed, and over 2,000 people were interned in British jails. 19. In order to destroy both the growing mili­ tancy of the workers and the movement for Home Rule, the industrialists took advantage of Protestant fears of Catholic competition. The Protestant monopoly over the job market would be seriously undermined in an independent Ireland, so the Protestant workers were brought into a class alliance with High Tory interests. 20. This alliance still survives. As Faulkner said 24. In the 1918 General Election, Sinn Fein, which stood for an independent Irish republic, won an overwhelming victory with 73 out of 105 seats. The Sinn Fein members established an Irish Parliament, the Dail Eireann, demanding the withdrawal of British forces. Britain declared Dail Eireann illegal and banned national movements. Thousands of troops were poured into Ireland with tanks, armoured cars and weapons; but the Irish Republican Army, small as it was (2,000 men) fought back and the war of independence began. 26. Unable to defeat the Irish forces outright, the British Government proposed a treaty under which Ireland was partitioned. 26 counties became a ‘Free State’ with dominion status within the Commonwealth. Britain retained direct control of the 6 north eastern counties which were 60% pro-British and contained the main Irish industries. 27. Irish businessmen and church leaders in the 26 counties were in favour of the treaty: workers and peasants were against it. Civil War developed. The British backed up the pro-treaty forces and supplied them with guns. Here pro-treaty forces use British artillery to shell the republican forces. Finally, in May 1923 the Republican forces laid down their arms and effective opposition to Partition went under­ ground. 28. O f the one and a quarter million people of the six counties at the time of Partition, more than half were concentrated in the city of Belfast, in County Antrim and the northern half of County Down. Here there were 552,000 Unionists and 149,000 Nationalists. In the remaining 4V counties were 281,000 Nationa­ 4 lists and 268,000 Unionists. To keep the province under British control, electoral boundaries were engineered by the gerrymander. Catholics were herded into one constituency while Protestants were split into several. In Derry for example, where there were twice as many Catholics as Protestants, the Catholics elected only 8 councillors while the Protestants elected 16. The need to maintain this precarious and unequal situation explains the notoriously undemocratic nature of the state in Northern Ireland, and the need for police and army to enforce ‘law and order’. 3 CAMERAWORK 29. Jobs and houses were allocated on sectarian grounds. As a ‘moderate’ Unionist MP put it in 1961: ‘the Unionist Party should make it clear that it is the Loyalists who have the first choice of jobs . . . The Unionist Party was founded to further the objects of Loyalists.’ This discrimi­ nation ensured that Protestant workers remained loyal to British interests. 30. To forestall rebellion, the British province was turned into a police state. In 1920 the police force was armed, as was the volunteer Special Constabulary, the ‘B’ Specials. The police force was and still is almost entirely Protestant. In emergencies the British Army could always be called upon. The Special Powers Act of 1922 gave the police sweeping powers of arrest and detention. Internment without trial was brought in when­ ever the Catholics showed signs of open rebellion. 34. In August 1969, this policy led to a massive police attack on the Catholic Bogside areas of Derry. The battle raged for two days and the police were forced right out of the Bogside. Free Derry was born. The barricades stayed up until the British Army, under pressure from the Loyalists, knocked them down two years later. Unable to control the Catholics, the Inspector General of the Royal Ulster Constabulary asked the Northern Ireland Government for military help, and at 3.00pm on 14th August, Chichester-Clark, the Unionist Prime Minister, passed on the request to Downing Street. At 4.30 Wilson, Prime Minister, and Callaghan, Home Secretary, telephoned their agreement. 38. The British Government claims that there would be a ‘bloodbath’ if the troops were with­ drawn. But by building up the Ulster Defence Regiment, which is almost entirely Protestant and contains many former ‘B’ Specials, the British are themselves creating the conditions for a Loyalist pogrom against the Catholics. the south thousands of workers downed tools to join protest marches, and 30,000 people burned down the British Embassy in Dublin. In the north too, there were strikes accompanied by rioting in every single Catholic area. The IRA campaign escalated rapidly. To try and regain control of the situation, the British Government dissolved the provincial government, and parliament and brought in direct rule. A number of political ‘solutions’ offered ‘power sharing’ to the Catholic middle class while continuing to repress the Catholic ghettos. The Sunningdale agreement proposed a power-sharing government in the north under British control, linked to the south through a Council of Ireland. This was unacceptable both to Catholics who had had enough of British rule, and to Protestants who rejected any kind of compromise with the Catholics. 43. In protest the Protestant Ulster Workers Council called a strike. The army failed to inter­ vene, the British Government backed down and Sunningdale collapsed. The Protestant-inspired Convention was no more successful a solution. 35. At 5.00pm on 14th August 1969 British troops went into the heart of Derry. It is one of the great myths of the British propaganda machine that the troops went in to ‘keep the two sides apart’ and to ‘protect the Catholics’. The troops were sent in at the request of the Northern Ireland police and Government because they could not control the Catholic minority without them. 39. On the political front, the British Govern­ ment has repeatedly yielded to Loyalist demands. From mid-1970, hardline Loyalists demanded Internment without trial, and on August 9th 1971 Internment was again intro­ duced. The army launched dawn raids on the Catholic ghettos and lifted 342 people. Many of the internees were tortured. CS gas was widely used against whole Catholic areas when people protested against Internment. 44. British policy now consists of simply repressing the nationalists and attempting to isolate the militants from their communities. If Britain is to control the north, she cannot afford to undermine the Unionist regime. This means that discrimination against the Catholics will continue. In this situation there is no prospect of an end to the violence. Ill 31. It was only when the Civil Rights Move­ ment emerged in the late Sixties, campaigning for equal opportunities in housing and jobs, and calling for electoral reform, that world opinion became aware of the conditions in Ireland. The police repeatedly attacked the demonstrators, hoping to drive them back into silence. Ill ■ ■ III I I I 40. Rubber bullets have been responsible for many injuries. Today these have been replaced by plastic bullets, which are harder and more accurate. Thirteen year old Brian Stewart died in October 1976 after his skull was smashed by a plastic bullet. 45. In 1970 the IRA was a very small organisa­ tion but it has grown since. The Catholic working class had to recognise that the British army would never be an agent of peaceful change and in the absence of political solutions, and in the face of escalating repression, many Republicans saw no other course. 36. At first the Catholics welcomed the troops because they felt they signalled the defeat of the hated RUC. But the Army, which had stayed in the background for 50 years, soon fell back into its traditional role of keeping the Catholics down. Massive house to house arms searches were carried out in Catholic areas. 41. In September 1976 the European Court of Human Rights found Britain guilty of the use of sensory deprivation during the Internment period. Torture in various forms still continues and was the subject of an Amnesty report in 1978. 32. Paisely brought his Ulster Constitution Defence Committee out onto the streets to attack the Civil Rights marchers. Here they stop a march through Armagh with sticks, billhooks, scythes, clubs and guns. ^ 33. Despite opposition and injuries, the Civil Rights movement continued to grow, encouraged by mass support in the south and broad sympathy overseas. The Northern Ireland Government began to promise minor reforms, but also launched a campaign of repression against the Catholics to appease Protestant fears of reform. ■! 37. Since World War II the British Army has been forced to withdraw from its Empire and grant independence to its former colonies. While still resisting withdrawal, it developed and refined techniques that were copied by the Americans in Vietnam and later used in Ireland. Concentration camps, internment without trial, sophisticated intelligence-gathering operations, sensory deprivation, torture and black propaganda were all used. General Kitson drew heavily on his experience in Malaya, Kenya, Cyprus and Oman in working out British military strategy in Ireland, where, again, the main task has been the suppression of a people struggling for inde­ pendence from British rule. mt ^ - 46. Little has changed in the relationship of Britain to the Irish people over the last few hundred years. When the first regular army was raised in the seventeenth century, two reasons were given for its existence: ‘suppression of the Irish’ and ‘defence of the Protestant religion’. The presence of the army has not solved any problems. The continued status of the northeast of Ireland as a province of Britain favours only a small number of industrialists. Catholics are discriminated against and repressed; Protestant workers, too, suffer low living standards. The industrialists profit from the split between the two, and the British Army maintain their rule by occupation and repression. fm r 42. Bloody Sunday, 30th January 1970. Paratroopers opened fire on a massive peaceful demonstration in Derry and killed fourteen men, none of whom were armed. Her Majesty the Queen later conferred the OBE on Lt. Col. Derek Wilford, who led the paras into action. Ireland exploded after Bloody Sunday. This history has been extracted from the Troops Out M ovement slide show. CAMERAWORK CATHOLIC W EST BELFAST Rioting is the familiar image of Northern Ireland - here a Royal Ulster Constabulary Landrover is stoned on the Falls Road in Catholic West Belfast. This is not simply another act of random violence. It is happening because the British Army and RUC are seen by many Catholics as the strong-arm of the social and economic repression they experience in housing, employment, law and basic human rights. The occasion for the incident is the anniversary of the British policy of internment without trial (August 9). Although this policy is no longer in effect, its memory is lasting and bitter. The Catholic sense of community is strong; here kids dance at a 12 hour marathon disco to raise money to improve their community centre. CATHOLIC WEST BELFAST Nearly all working-class Catholic families have been traumatically affected by the violence, with family and friends either killed, injured or arrested. The McCabe’s 4 year old daughter, Siobhan was shot dead while playing outside their house - caught in an exchange between the army and a gunman. Lunch for this family is bread, margarine and tea - probably less nutritional than a bowl of rice. Many families ran into debt following a rent strike and they now have money deducted from state benefit before receiving it. Overcrowding is a consequence of large families, a chronic shortage of houses and the poor condition of those in existence. This family has another room but the damp is so bad that the parents will r.ot allow the children to sleep there. 1 ms lowers their income well below the poverty line. The Child Poverty Action Group recently reported that V of all families in Northern Ireland are living below the poverty line. 3 a The Divis Flats tenants group has pressurised the Norther Ireland Housing Executive into recognising the inadequacies of the flats, and offering five million pounds to refurbish them. But tenants insist that the flats are so appalling that the money should be spent on building new houses in their place. CAMERAWORK Collecting firewood from the rubble of redevelopment in the Lower Falls. Since the start of the troubles, sectarian threats and violence have caused over 60,000 mainly working-class Catholics and Protestants to move from religiously mixed areas to ‘safe’ ghettos. This has overstretched an already appalling housing problem. A family is still living in a house on the left. Two youths are held for an identity (P) check outside the city centre. They are bored and resentful of a procedure which is a part of daily life for many Catholics, particularly the youths. abuse this security measure and employ it as a form of harassment. Unemployed youths on a street comer. Lower Falls. Catholic unemployment is 2Vi times that of Protestants, and in the ghetto areas like this, unemployment runs at about 40%. It is very simple for the army to The Youth Employment Scheme pays £20 per week and trains both sexes in manual skills. However, the fundamental problem of a massive job shortage remains unchanged. The gun is a toy. Many Catholic kids identify with the Provisional IRA who they refer to as the Army - British soldiers are simply ‘Brits’. Identifica­ tion will continue to change into membership so long as they feel oppressed and harassed by ‘Brits’. 4 CATHOLIC WEST BELFAST Although the Catholic Church still dominates the education of children, its spiritual presence is felt most strongly by the older generations. The funeral of three IRA men who were shot by the army and RUC while planting a bomb at an industrial site in Belfast. The shooting was so indiscriminate that a Protestant passer-by was also killed. Almost 19,000 people, including army and RUC, have been killed, and almost 20,000 have been injured in Northern Ireland over the last 10 years. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- -- -- -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -! - - - - — - - - - - - ~ - - - - - - - - - I I I One of the regular marches in the Falls Road demanding political status for the Republican prisoners in H-block of Long Kesh prison. Almost 400 prisoners are naked, except for a blanket at night; living in filth and squalor, refusing to wear prison uniform or undertake cleaning duties until they are accorded political status. Some of the prisoners have been ‘on the blanket’ for over 2 years. H I mu A soldier peers down his telescopic sight; in the background hijacked vehicles bum to mark the anniversary of internment. As long as the British Government fails to take any initiative for the removal of British troops from Northern Ireland, ‘solutions’ will be backed by violence, and the army will be increasingly seen -both here and abroad —as an army of occupation. » s every person who is actively interested in the war in Ireland knows,if you want to find out what’sreally happening you ^ JBLhave to resign yourself to buying the Irish Times and other Irish publications. This applies even if you want to read speeches on the subject made by MPs at Westminster. After all, which British paper gave the full text of Gerry F itt’s speech explaining why he was unable to support the Labour Government in the crucial vote of confidence that brought it down - or reported that the reason for Frank Maguire’s abstention in the same vote was the govern­ ment’s refusal to grant political status to prisoners in H Block? This judgement about the relative unrelia­ bility of the British press is borne out by the detailed research done by Philip Elliott of the University of Leicester (Reporting Northern Ireland, Ethnicity and the Media, Unesco 1978). Elliott concludes that the British media are heavily reliant on government and army (official) sources to provide them with accounts of incidents, that the media jump to the ‘socially acceptable’ conclusion that the Provisional IRA is responsible for all violence, and that they con­ centrate on simplicity and human interest in the presentation of stories and neglect political background. While the Irish media, and especially the openly censored broadcasting service Radio Telefis Eireann, are not exempt from criticism, Elliott finds that ‘generally the Irish papers were much more open about the information available to them, the relative value they put on it and so the account of events that seemed to them the most plausible.’ He continues: ‘In Britain scepticism of the official account was rarely shown. Such accounts were usually explicitly identified so the reader was presented with them on a take it or leave it basis. The Irish media often went further, not just printing alternatives but dropping versions, including official versions, they no longer believed and taking on themselves the responsibility of pointing the reader in the right direction. More­ over the Irish media were less inclined to concentrate on simplicity and human interest in their presentation of the news. Partly this was because they were less preoccupied with the single story of violence in the north and more concerned about political developments and the political future of the province.’ Elliott notes that while the Irish and British establishment newspapers share the assump­ tions of ‘liberal western democracies’ about factors such as what constitutes legitimate political activity, the main difference between them ‘was one of national ideology, based on the different involvement of the two nation states in the Northern Ireland conflict.’ In fact in Britain today there are two funda­ mentally conflicting views about British involvement in Northern Ireland. On the one hand the major parliamentary parties hold that N orthern Ireland is an integral part of the ‘United Kingdom’ and that the army is involved in a peace-keeping operation cum war against a small band of criminals. This view is at odds with majority opinion in Britain, which opinion polls have repeatedly demonstrated is in favour of withdrawal from Northern Ireland - the most recent poll, conducted by Yorkshire Television, showed a 56% majority in favour of withdrawal. The single major paper to back the majority view has been the Daily Mirror. In calling for withdrawal, the Mirror is reflecting the opinion of a liberal section of the establishment that in the long term this offers the only hope of stability for Ireland, and is at the same time, acknowledging the popularity of the call for withdrawal. The remainder of the press has stayed firmly within the framework of the parliamentary bipartisan policy. In terms of the quality of reportage, the costs of so doing has been high. For, as an increasing number of journalists are coming to realise, to present the situation in Northern Ireland as the authorities would have us see it requires that the truth be doctored. The British authorities run a large public rela­ tions operation in Northern Ireland. Andrew Stephen reported in the Observer of 29th February 1976 that ‘The Army alone has more than 40 press officers operating in Ulster, and they have a back-up staff of over 100. The RUC have a full-time team of 12 press officers, and the Government employs 20 Belfast-based people, specifically briefed to deal with the press.’ The Army’s PR machine is the most exten­ sive and influential. Guardian journalist Simon Hoggart has written, ‘When the British press prints an account of an incident as if it were an established fact, and it is clear that the reporter himself (sic) is not on the spot, it is a 99 per cent certainty that it is the army’s version that is being given.’ (.NewSociety, 11th October 1973) The army of course is not a neutral supplier of news. It sees press relations - and this has been CAMERAWORK fact been shot from behind and had not touched any weapons. When the then Northern Ireland Secretary, 'I'v e alw a y s assu m ed th e official line is we put the Roy Mason, suggested in 1976 that there should a rm y 's version first an d then an y o th e r/ be a D-notice system to control the dissemina­ tion of news from Northern Ireland, there was - BBC TV new s su b -ed ito r an outcry from the ‘quality’ press. But the effects Mason desired have largely been achieved without direct government interven­ tion. Some newspaper editors have openly stated their allegiances. In November 1971, a month after torture of internees had been revealed in the Sunday Times (two months after this was common knowledge in Ireland), and when allegations of censorship were growing, the Daily Express warned, ‘While British troops are involved in fighting a terrorist-anarchist organi­ sation . . . there is no room for impartiality . . . There is no question here of political censor­ ship . . . people who bomb, kill and maim in order to smash the fabric of society put them­ selves outside the normal conventions, which include freedom of speech . . . the soldier or the policeman who never knows where the next shot will come from deserves support in a hazardous and desperately difficult task. The snide remark which undermines his morale is almost as bad as the sniper’s bullet.’ (11th November 1971) On the same day the Daily Mail deplored the appearance of the ‘apologists of violence . . . lounge suited and sitting in a [television] studio’, and went on to say, ‘all newspapers and all TV producers must take a far more critical attitude to what is, directly or indirectly, IRA propaganda.’ The press has proved willing to go along with the propaganda emanating from the authorities. In 1975 when Scotland Yard wished to dub Margaret McKeamey ‘BRITAIN’S MOST WANTED WOMAN TERRORIST’ in order to create a smokescreen on behalf of the Northern Ireland office, the papers were happy to convict her in inch-high letters on their front pages. Again, in 1978, the papers were happy to oblige the police - who wished to prove that they were protecting the nation with zeal and deter­ mination after a spate of bombings in London by describing the innocent Cornelius McHugh as ‘Bald Eagle’, ‘mastermind’ of the IRA bombings. On occasion the papers will do their bit without any prompting. In 1976 the Daily Express caused an outcry among the Irish community in Britain with the story that Irish people were heading a £200 million social Photomontage Peter Kennard security swindle and channelling millions of pounds to the IRA. The story was subsequently exposed as a myth by a government ministry. Steve Chibnall, in his book Lavo-and-Order News (Tavistock 1977) recounts how following the trial at Winchester of the people charged with the bombing of the Old Bailey in 1973, journalists collaborated to produce a fictional story, which involved an IRA plot to kidnap ten English villagers as hostages against the release of the convicted bombers. One journalist refused to submit the story because he thought ‘WAS IT MURDER BY MISTAKE?’ The rest it was ridiculous: his office told him, ‘If you spelled out by counter-insurgency expert of the press pursued the same theme with the prove to be w'rong then you’ll have to answer for General Frank Kitson - as an important front on exception of the Guardian, but, while Simon it.’ which the war is being fought. Kitson has Winchester suggested that ‘Protestant written that the government must ‘promote its Often a story acquires propaganda value extremists’ were responsible, the bulk of his simply through the slant put on it by headlineown cause and undermine that of the enemy by article was devoted to the army’s theories. disseminating its view of the situation, and this writers. The Evening Standard of 4th March Loyalist paramilitaries have mainly tried to 1977 producing the mind-bending headline, involves a carefully planned and coordinated achieve their political aims through the random ‘Faulkner, target of IRA, dies in fall from campaign of what for want of a better word must association of Catholics - using this grisly tactic horse.’ And, in January 1978, when the regrettably be called psychological operations.’ whenever British security policy appears to Guardian reported the Fair Employment In practical terms this means firstly maintain­ them to be going ‘soft’ on the IRA. Thus, Agency’s finding that Catholics in Northern ing the army’s image as a ‘peace-keeping’ force, Loyalists have been chiefly responsible for Ireland were two and half times more likely to which involves minimising violence committed sectarian assassinations. However, this fact did be unemployed than Protestants, and more by the security forces, and projecting a flattering not tally with the authorities’ aim of depicting likely to have unskilled jobs, the headline ran: view of the army. (This includes such things as the IRA as the main threat. So -a s a senior Irish ‘Catholics Fail to Climb Jobs Ladder’ providing provincial papers with photos of local journalist revealed to the Leveller of June 1978 - implying that it was the Catholics’ fault, rather boys on the front line). Secondly, ‘undermining the Northern Ireland Office requested editors than a structural problem of the Northern the enemy’s cause’ is achieved by blackening the and reporters not to state the religions of the Ireland state. name of the IRA (blaming it with all acts of (mostly Catholic) victims of such assassinations. violence including those committed by Loyalists British journalists, as well as editors, have When soldiers are responsible for deaths, the their allegiances. In his book In Holy Terror, and the security forces) and by denying the army press statements - duly taken up by the Guardian journalist, Simon Winchester - one of Republican Movement its chance to put across press - flow thick and fast, frequently contra­ the better reporters on Ireland - confesses to its political perspective. dicting one another. When 12-year-old Majella voicing more regret at the death of a British Elliott found that, during the periods he O ’Hare was shot by a soldier in 1976, the army soldier than at the deaths of two Irish men: studied, the main concentration in the media first said she was shot when a gunman opened ‘There was an indefinable feeling of being in a was on Republican - or supposedly Republican fire on a patrol, then said that she was shot in foreign country in Ireland - North or South - violence, while, in fact, during those periods, crossfire. The police later revealed that the only and, it must be admitted, there was some identi­ fifteen Catholics, six Protestants, one member bullets had been fired by a paratrooper. of the security forces and one other, were killed. fication, some commonality between the Again, when 13-year-old Brian Stewart died ordinary British squaddie on the street and the The army’s handling of the bombing of in 1976 - after his skull had been smashed by a ordinary British reporter or photographer who McGurk’s Bar in 1971 provides a potent soldier’s plastic bullet - the army invented a riot followed him around and wrote about him or example of how this media bias is achieved. in which Brian had ‘unfortunately’ been killed. took pictures of him or whatever.’ Fifteen people were killed in the bombing of Later, an army spokesman appeared on TV to this Catholic pub in Belfast, and all the evi­ Aside from their personal inclinations, call Brian a ‘leading stone-thrower’. dence at the time pointed to Loyalist responsi­ journalists come under pressure from their bility. In 1978, Robert James Campbell, a 42And when 16-year-old John Boyle was shot editors to report the authorities’ views and to year-old Loyalist, was convicted of the 15 by the SAS in 1978, the army’s first statement slant the news to match the official perspective. murders and given a recommended sentence of claimed that a patrol had challenged three In part, this is due to the media convention that 25 years. Yet at the time the army gave a press armed men, and that when one of the ‘terrorists’ if news is to have any weight it must come from conference asserting that an IRA bomb had ran away the patrol shot and killed him. Their ‘authoritative sources’ or ‘experts’ recognised exploded in transit. The Times fell for this hook, next statement said that John had been killed by the establishment. Steve Chibnall writes. line and sinker, announcing, ‘Blast that killed when he pointed an Armalite at the patrol. Sub­ sequent police evidence showed that John had in 15 may have been IRA error.’ The Sun cried, Continued on page 18 The British Press and Ireland CAMERAWORK The Economics of Sectarianism The visitor to Belfast wanting to flee the red­ brick drabness and dourness of the city for the more heady delights of Dublin a hundred miles away, has to drive along the Ml, one of Northern Ireland’two motorways for the first s six miles of the journey. The first mile or so of that journey presents the traveller with a micro­ cosm o f Northern Ireland and much o f the reason for the last decade o f violence. On the left is Protestant South Belfast and at that edge o f the motorway lies a huge industrial estate with factories, warehouses, garages, and banks - employing nearly two thousand people. Like a sword, the motorway cuts that part o f the city into two separate and distinct parts. On the right hand side lies Catholic West Belfast, and it too has an industrial estate reaching down to the motorway. But this one is different. Half the buildings are empty and most o f the others contain businesses tottering on the edge of bankruptcy. Less than five hundred people work in this estate. Northern Ireland is full o f sharp divisions such as that created by the M l motorway. The biggest o f them is one that cuts the west of Northern Ireland from the east, and follows a line gouged out by the river Bann. To the west o f the Bann lie Derry city and the counties of Fermanagh, Tyrone, Derry and South Armagh, over 400,000 people live west o f the Bann and nearly 70% o f them are Catholic. East of the Bann contains Belfast, and counties Antrim, Down and North Armagh. Over a million people live here and over 70% of them are Protestant. But that line is more than a sectarian ruler - like the M 1motorway, the Catholic side o f the Bann has massive unemployment, while the Protestant side enjoys relative prosperity. Ever since 1920 the Catholic population has suffered enormous unemployment and poverty. And, given that over the years that situation has been institutionalised, there is little hope of change without radical political and economic restructuring. The economic advantages of the present situation to business are the same as they were in the 19th century, when Northern Ireland’ prosperous factory owners and s business class flocked to join the Orange Order and built the Unionist party. A working class divided into Protestant and Catholic is a weak working class. A weak working class is more profitable. It is that legacy that has torn Northern Ireland to pieces in the past decade and given Protestant workers the illusion that they have something to lose if the link with Britain were severed. On the face o f it, Northern Ireland would appear to suffer a generally severe unemploy­ ment problem, but the present workless rate hovering between 11% and 13% - disguises more than it reveals. It disguises, conveniently for British politicians, the plight of the mainly Catholic area west o f the Bann. Here unemploy­ ment is, and has been since 1920, astronomically high. Strabane in the far west, for instance, has 28.5% o f its working population idle while other towns are not much better off. Newry, on the border, has an unemployment rate o f 24.6%, Cookstown has 23%, and Derry 18%. Similarly, the lower than average rate o f 9% for Belfast fails to reveal the dire state o f West Belfast (on the wrong side o f the Ml) where, in areas like Andersonstown and Ballymurphy, unemploy­ ment has been unofficially estimated to range from 30% to 50%. It doesn’take a statis­ t tical genius to work out that the problem of unemployment in Northern Ireland is a Catholic one. In fact, a government antidiscrimination body, the Fair Employment Agency, has admitted that for every Protestant on the dole there are three Catholics. Furthermore, the underlying reality is that since the creation of the state unemployment has been endemic in Catholic areas. There are several reasons for this. Towns and businesses on the border were deprived, overnight, of their natural hinterland, when the North was parti­ tioned from the rest o f Ireland. Derry for instance, was once a thriving port, providing the natural outlet to Britain and elsewhere for county Donegal and much o f the West of Ireland. Similarly, Newry was once a bustling canal port importing and exporting coal, agri­ cultural produce and manufactured goods from the prosperous plains o f Ireland. Since parti­ tion, both towns have withered into economic insignificance. Far from pouring financial aid into the floundering west o f the Bann, successive Unionist governments since 1920 have done all in their power to ensure that it never recovered from post-partition shock. When it came to constructing economic and social infrastruc- Soldiers pay a routine visit to the Delorian car factory. Located in Twinbrook, West Belfast, between Catholic and Protestant estates, the British government has invested £52 million in grant aid to attract the factory to Northern Ireland. The project was initially presented as providing 2,000 jobs, the majority of which would go to relieve the massive Catholic unemployment in Belfast. But the company is run by hard-headed business men and the majority o f jobs will go to those who have the appropriate skills. This means, because of the prevailing structure o f employment in Northern Ireland, that most employees will in fact be Protestants. ture, Unionism behaved as if the west didn’ t exist. In the 1950s one of the two rail links to Derry was axed, making it even more unlikely that an investor would choose the city to site a factory. In the Sixties the plans for a new University were changed. Instead of going to Derry, where there already existed a college o f University status, it went to the Unionist stronghold of Coleraine, just on the eastern side of the Bann. The first motorway, the M 1 was not built to , Derry, and not even to link up via Newry with Dublin in the future, but to the staunchly Protestant town o f Dungannon via Lisburn, the present headquarters o f the British Army in Northern Ireland. The second motorway, built ten years ago, services the Loyalist town of Larne, whose electricity power station workers brought the government down in 1974, and it services Ballymena, stamping ground o f Ian Paisley. Similarly, even though the neighbour­ ing towns o f Lurgan and Portadown, both Unionist strongholds, had few unemployment problems, the Unionists chose Craigavon, named after their first prime minister, as a site for a new town and growth spot. Northern Ireland’electricity stations - which were built s in the forties and fifties - were all sited near Belfast and the province’only airport was built s just north o f Belfast. Nearly 30,000 houses, almost a quarter o f the total stock in Belfast, are considered unfit for human habitation. Another 61,000, just over half, need repairs or improvements. Nearly 40% o f the 113,000 households in Belfast have a weekly income o f £25 or less. 16% o f these households are overcrowded. 60,000 people have fled from mixed areas under threat to comparatively safe, but slummy, ghettos, leaving 10,000 houses bricked up and decaying. am/ Braces Roadshow .................... ............................................... These infra-structures, built by Unionist governments, ensured that industry would be attracted to the mainly Protestant eastern part of the land. The west could rot, and o f course it did. Unemployment soared and the only route to a decent standard of living was on the emigra­ tion boat. Since most o f those who left were Catholic - and therefore hostile voters, and allegedly prodigious breeders o f future oppo­ nents - unemployment in the west was actually to the electoral advantage o f Unionism. Belfast was a different problem. In Belfast there existed a substantial number o f Catholics. T o ensure that they didn’ share in the city’ t s prosperity and thus undermine Protestant workers’ illusion o f well-being, an overt policy o f discrimination was the order o f the day. Sectarian hatreds would be deliberately inflamed and Catholics were regularly ejected from Harland and Wolff shipyard and from other factories where they had managed to gain t a toehold. T o ensure that Catholics didn’ receive training for industrial skills, Govern­ ment Training Centres were sited in the Protes­ tant eastern and northern parts of the city. The only two training centres located in West Belfast were built in the sixties and are concentrated almost exclusively on building skills - an industry in which 20% o f Catholics work. Catholics in Belfast have always shared the three same stark choices as their counterpans west of the Bann: emigration, unemployment, or casual work in building or farming. For these reasons, any new industry looking for investment potential in Northern Ireland is inevitably propelled towards Protestant Northern Ireland. There is skilled labour accustomed to factory discipline, good road and communication systems, and access to the large British and European markets. In the fifties and sixties, when Northern Ireland experienced a wave o f foreign investment, eleven o f the twelve large multi-nationals located themselves east of the Bann - and there is no reason to suppose they would act any differently now. The present economic crisis however, has some substantial differences. For the first time since the ‘ hungry thirties’Protestants in large , numbers are beginning to join the dole queues. And this is because they work in technologybased industries that are often at the centre of any general economic decline. The present economic policies o f the British government are unlikely to see them off the dole queues; together with a radicalisation brought about by appalling housing conditions, the coming years could see Protestants in unfamiliar, economic conflict with their bosses. In November last year the seriousness o f the economic situation in Northern Ireland was offi­ cially recognised. The then Industry Minister described the outlook as ‘ grim’ and estimated that a further 30,000 jobs on top of the present level o f job creation was needed to reduce unemployment to 7% by 1981. The Ministry of Commerce has since revised that figure upwards to 40,000, and the Economist Intelligence Unit has predicted an unemployment rate o f 18% by 1981. Whatever the differences between the experts, it is clear that Northern Ireland faces a dramatic recession. The present economic strategy to fight unemployment will, in fact, make the situation worse. The government depends on an extra­ ordinarily generous package of incentives to attract industry to Northern Ireland - but the structure o f that package ensures that the type of industry attracted will hold out the least hope of further job creation. According to a government spokesman, investors in Northern Ireland need pay only 60 pence per £100 invested to set up shop in Northern Ireland. Capital grants are at 50%, electricity charges half the domestic rate and there are 50 per cent research and development grants. Altogether £700 million has been made available for industrial incentives over the next five years; but they are all grants likely to be most attractive to technology-based, capitalintensive industries having an in-built impulse to reduce dependency on labour. Thus in order to provide jobs, the present strategy will create greater future unemployment. It is also a policy that has in the past led to vast sums being paid out to industrialists who move out as soon as the grants have expired, and also led to open-handed largesse for charismatic entrepreneurs like John Z. De Lorean and his mysterious car factory. Significantly, the United States now seems on the point o f over­ taking Britain as the largest single investor in both parts o f Ireland. Similar generous incen­ tives exist in the South o f Ireland, and Tip O ’ eill’ recent pronouncements on Northern N s Ireland take on added significance in this light. ‘ John B ull’ Other Island’ rapidly becoming s is ‘ Uncle Sam’ 52nd State’ s . Adding to the existing economic misery. Northern Ireland can only expect more of the same from the new Tory administration. Tory policies on the sale o f council housing will badly hit Northern Ireland’ already low stock of s housing, and public spending cuts (£23 per man, woman and child) can only swell the dole queues. The outlook for Northern Ireland’working s class is indeed ‘ ’Self-help solutions, such grim . as the creation o f co-operatives, seem woefully inadequate given the size of the problem. The only glimmer o f hope, short of a total British withdrawal, lies in the possible radicalisation of Protestant workers. Bad housing, poverty and unemployment have always been the lot of Catholic workers, and now, Protestant workers are beginning to experience the bitter taste. Whether they react by retreating into their prejudices or emerge to find common cause with their Catholic compatriots is a question that will for some while have to remain unanswered. Ed Moloney Workers’ Research Unit, Belfast CAMERAWORK The photograph is a powerful weapon in the armoury of autho­ rity in Northern Ireland. Its main use is to put people in prison. Camerawork received this report about an ex-army photographer through the post. Tom Atkins is a soldier in Northern Ireland. He moves with an alert spring in his step. For most of his years in the British Army, Tom Atkins has been a photographer. He has already spent four tours in Northern Ireland where the photograph is as important a weapon as the bullet - rubber or lead - and the baton; where pictures have sent as many people to prison as ‘information received’. The most innocent use of photographs in N orthern Ireland is for public relations. Soldiers are photographed suitably heroically, and the photograph is sent to their local news­ paper, kind o f ‘local boy makes good’ stuff. The same pictures are used in the Army’s own N orthern Ireland magazine Visor. Most of Tom Atkins’ work in Northern Ireland is for Intelligence. He takes photo­ graphs from low flying helicopters of all the Army and police ‘forts’ and the maze of streets that surround them in Belfast and Derry. These are used to brief soldiers before they patrol an area or begin a cordon and search operation. Senior officers use photographs to report upwards, like salesman reporting to their marketing manager. Elaborate tape-slide pro­ grammes are prepared at the Lisburn head­ quarters every four to six weeks for this purpose. Hundreds of things are copied - documents, photographs. One IRA funeral can be attended by three or four photographers ‘all working for the same organisation - the State . . .’ ‘There would be the Special Branch photog­ rapher and several other photographers from units on the ground in the area. There might even be someone fioni another organisation. There they all are, all photographing the same event and all churning out copies. The whole thing is quite chaotic. Sometimes the photo­ grapher from one unit might not have pictures of certain things, and none of the others would be willing to part with their negatives. They send him a print, and he would have to copy it to churn out more prints. Churn out and churn out - an enormous quantity.’ The output of prints is vast. At one riot he might take sixty to seventy 120 films and twenty 35mm films. Six prints will be made of every single frame, almost 10,000 prints. They are printed on an automatic machine. ‘The photog­ rapher just sits there for hours and hours churning out piles of these prints . . . they literally have to be picked up in a vehicle. Two men, four men couldn’t carry them. There will be a whole Land Rover full of prints . . . ’ The prints go to Intelligence collators. ‘They find key people, put little chinagraph rings round them and put them in their file. It’s unbelievable the amount of information. In one intelligence section they have a whole office of collators and that is for, well, not a small town, but not a particularly big area. All a collator does is collate information. They don’t do anything else but just sit there for at least eight hours a day, often more, and put informa­ tion into an index that can be referred to. That’s all they’re doing all day. And of course, there’s a large investment in computer involvement in all this as well.’ Photographers often work together using both video and stills equipment. They are pro­ tected by a bodyguard of soldiers and often accompanied by someone from Army intelli­ gence or the Special Branch. ‘They stand behind you during a riot and say: ‘Get a picture of him’ or look through their binoculars and say: ‘That guy, third from left, get a good picture of him! They must have a massive file system.’ ‘Northern Ireland is really a very small place; you can drive from one end to the other in a couple of hours. There are thousands of people there (one and a half million, the population of Birmingham) but the personalities are known. Not just the leaders, but a hell of a lot of the ordinary people involved are actually known by sight. Not necessarily by the photographer, but by the Special Branch and by the intelligence officers whose job it is to know. They can put a name to a face.’ Funerals are a favourite place for the Army to take photographs. ‘They often get uniformed people, and if you get a photograph of a uniformed person, you’ve got someone in jail for five years. It used to be two years but it’s five years now. So the Army takes photographs of people at funerals. ‘And then rallies - you know - where people stand up and speak, because there are all these lovely laws about what you can say. If you stand up and say you don’t like the British, that’s incitement to racial hatred. ‘Maire Drumm spent so many years of her life in jail for doing just that. She did nothing else but stand there and say ‘Let’s get the British out of here, it’s not their country’, and she spent years in jail just for that . . .’ Photographs are used in court in many diffe­ rent ways. ‘During Internment, which lasted a long time, it was evidence. I mean, Internment was a big excuse to get by the law and just put away anybody you wanted put away. So photo­ graphs were used as evidence. Internment just meant a judge sitting in a room without any­ body else but the Army and maybe a few legal people, but basically they’d just sit around a table and say, ‘Look, we’ve got a few pictures here of so-and-so going into this house, obviously meeting somebody. Let’s shut them away. They’re obviously involved.’ And that was enough, whereas in a court of law, proof is needed.’ Since Internment, much the same thing happens as far as photographs are concerned. They are acceptable in a court of law as evi­ dence. That’s how photographs are used. ‘If you’ve got hardly any evidence on some­ body the police use the argument that they know all the time. And, in fairness, seventy per cent of the time, maybe more, they’re right, they do know. But that’s not the way that law works. It’s not fair. You can involve so many innocent people simply by saying ‘I know’. ‘In Southern Ireland it only takes a police inspector to say: ‘I know that he is a member of the IRA’. That’s all the evidence you need - a police inspector or above - to say just that. You don’t need anything else. It’s not quite as bad as that in Northern Ireland. So they have to prove it, and photographs are often used as the only evidence, except for police people, Special Branch people, standing up in court and saying ‘It is known, we know, we’ve seen it.’ Apart from that, that’s about the only evidence and the thing is, it’s such crude, ridiculous evidence, because very often the photographs are taken from a long way away, with long lenses, but still involving big blow-ups.’ One ‘suspect’ he photographed had long, lank dark hair and was clean shaven. When he appeared in court he had quite short, neat hair and a beard. ‘There’s no way you could tell him from the photograph, but he was put away. The whole thing’s a ritual really, it doesn’t actually matter. You could put in a photograph of Edward Heath and it would do as well. It’s just like, it’s a photograph, and there’s something you can grab hold of and call evidence. It’s not always used like that, but quite often.’ ‘Photographers are used to build up a picture of someone, I mean metaphorically build up a kind of dossier, so that you can look it up and see that this guy was in a riot here and a meeting there and he went to this funeral. Having built up a lot, then you decide that this particular person is really worth having a look at.’ Army photographers also take the ‘gory’ pictures, showing the results of bombings. ‘Bits of bodies strewn about in the various corners of a room. Then there are the ‘slab shots’ - shots of bodies on the slab cut up for a post mortem and put together again very roughly. Those are nauseating. They do literally turn your stomach.’ ‘Gory’ pictures are very popular among the soldiers as pin-ups. ‘I know it sounds incredible. Especially if it is known, like lots of the names are known by ordinary soldiers, like one of the leaders of the ProVos blows himself or herself up - there are lots of women in the IRA - then the ‘gory’ produced from that would be very popular. People would see it and maybe have copies.’ Photographers work at various levels of secrecy. Most openly, they wear uniform along­ side other soldiers at a riot. They may be wearing the same gear as the heavy squad - flak jacket, visor and helmet. Slightly more covertly, photographers also work in civilian clothes. This is often because the Army does not have the six or seven men needed to provide a body­ guard. They use various kinds of cover. The Army and police own thousands of civilian cars in Northern Ireland. For some time Army photographers working in civilian clothes used press cards. Unfor­ tunately for the Army, all the photographers used the same card. The IRA soon realised that anybody with one of those cards was from the Army. ‘We kind of ceremoniously burned our cards.’ ‘Ideology in the Army is total. Soldiers really believe. I have seen soldiers cleaning up in the Glasgow dustmen’s strike, cleaning up the streets, and I’ve actually talked to soldiers who lived on the street they were cleaning up, and one of them whose father was a striking dust­ man, and he didn’t see that as a problem. They really do see it as some kind of glamour. They really do believe you should do anything you’re told. That’s what being a soldier is about.’ ‘Being a professional soldier is being totally obedient, and that’s what professionalism is all about. I suppose being a professional photog­ rapher is being able to do almost anything and turn out the goodies, turn out what’s wanted. Well, in the Army that kind of professionalism involves doing exactly what you’re told, regard­ less. I’ve met soldiers in the artillery, in the infantry in Ireland, who are actually on patrol in their own streets, doing house-to-house searches, turning people out of bed at three o’clock in the morning, pulling their wallpaper down, and their curtains - on the street where they live. That sounds ridiculous to a civilian, but in the Army it’s not. It’s professionalism.’ ‘Any kind of notion of subverting the Army is ridiculous. They are loyal to the last, and there’s just no area of dissension at all. If there is, they get out. People who dissent get out. There are a number of people who have left. I know of an intelligence operator who just got so pissed off watching their Sergeant beating the shit out of helpless Irish kids in a chair for information, that they just got out. But it very rarely happens that people’s consciences get touched at all.’ ‘The biggest heroes in the Army are One Para - the guys who opened fire on Bloody Sunday. Like it’s something you boast about in the Army, that you were in Londonderry on Bloody Sunday, that you know, or you were there. To be one of the Paras is the ultimate, but even to be vaguely connected with that operation is some­ thing that you boast about. So ideology is total.’ Tom Atkins was once too shocked to take photographs of soldiers beating up an un­ conscious man. The man had come forward by himself and the fighting had died down because both sides thought he was asking for a truce. It happens like that - someone comes forward and says, ‘Look, we’re willing to go home if you let us. We’re willing to call a halt.’ When this man had got close enough, he threw the brick hidden behin
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorSantiago Castrillon, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read, Kate Saunders, Siddhiratna
      • author_writerJohn A. Walker, Graham Wade, Judith Rugg, Mark Haworth-Booth, Laurie Flynn, Jessica James, Jenny Matthews, Malcom Green, Theodore Scheimpflug
      • author_photographerPeter Kennard, Helmut Newton, Marcia Resnick, Judith Rugg, Larry Herman, Barry Lewis, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Humphrey Spender, Christopher Ekani
      • author_designer
      • author_intervieweeHazel Peasley
      • author_organisation
      • tagsfantasy,humour,advertising,benson & hedges,adverts,deconstruction of media,media representation,de-coding advertising,cigarettes,woman's identity,self-image,angela kelly,larry herman,clydeside,shipbuilding,shipyards,labour,being disabled,a kind of life,helvard kjaervik,photographic collecting,photographers' gallery,limelight,lunn gallery,v&a,cameroon,west africa,congo,jumble sale,fees for freelancers,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 15
      • subtitleIssue 15: Images of the Disabled
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners, John A. Walker, Graham Wade, Mark Haworth-Booth, Laurie Flynn, Jessica James, Jenny Matthews, Malcom Green, Theodore Scheimpflug, Peter Kennard, Helmut Newton, Marcia Resnick, Judith Rugg, Larry Herman, Barry Lewis, Henri Cartier-Bresson © Henri Cartier-Bresson/Magnum Photos, Humphrey Spender, Christopher Ekani, Hazel Peasley
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 6,7) Clydeside, Scotland, UK. Glasgow, Scotland, UK (pg 10) Southampton, UK (pg 12,13) USA, Canada, Europe (pg 14) Cameroon, West Africa
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      • pdf_textRailway workers at Clapham Junction by Barry Lewis. From ‘Coming and Going’ an HMPW Touring Exhibition about travelling in London. Larry Herman Mark Haworth-Booth Jenny Matthews John A. Walker Judith Rugg Images of the Disabled N o 15 Half Moon Photography Workshop $1.75 1 CAMERAWORK Photomontage by Peter Kennard People who worked on this issue of Camerawork were Santiago Castrillon, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Tom Picton, Richard Platt, Shirley Read (co-ordinator), Siddhiratna. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photo­ graphy, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. This issue of Camerawork, September 1979, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. SUBSCRIBE TO CAMERAWORK: A full subscription to Camerawork includes six issues, posters and invitations for our exhibitions. The cost for this is £6.50 (students £5.00). Subscription to Camerawork alone is £4.50 for six issues. Institutional subscription (which includes posters and invitations) is £12.00 for six issues. Overseas subscriptions by surface mail cost £1.00 in addition to the above costs. For details of air mail rates please contact us. Send to H.M .P.W ., 119 Roman Road, London E2 0QN. Tel: 01-980 8798. (ISSN 0308 1676) CAMERAWORK From ‘Possessions’ by John Hedgecoe Through the Lens Fantasy Early morning and a rush to the tube. Time to note a new face on the hoarding at the end of the road - a female raincoat flasher, selling bras it seems. Past the ticket collector - the sultry blonde selling peanuts and temptation has gone to join the other ghosts of the underground, the disembodied legs seeking the answer to their riddle ‘When was the last time a man said you had a great pair of jeans?’ and the vamp on the tiger skin waiting for the fire to be lit, two amongst a cast of thousands. Finding my eyelevel coincides with a female crutch I look up to find a leg erect in the air - ostensibly selling tights, but in reality communicating a whole lot more. It’s still only 8.30 and already I’ve been bombarded by images of women who neither look nor behave anything like me. The women’s movement has made an effort to attack sexist imagery in advertising but all too often the ad agencies, realising they have gloss and an ideal world on their side, go on to use sexual humour and exaggeration to capture hearts and minds. So the juicy, fruity, fresh and cheap women disappear to become badges on a tee shirt, and other adverts slip closer to a tasteful pornography. As nakedness becomes less of a taboo the debate over pornography and sexist images hots up and the images themselves have become part of the acceptable face of consumer society. At a public debate in April 1979 Arthur Scargill, the miners leader, vigorously defended the use of pin-ups in the union paper, and, as might be expected, the Sun used its page as an integral part of the General Election campaign. The Daily Star goes so far as to advertise the paper solely on the strength of its pin-ups. Pornography may have its uses (one view on current thoughts on porno is presented in Screen Education, Spring 1979), but one of its greatest dangers is that it encourages the idea that women are unreal, part of a fantasy world. Photography has always served as a sexual surrogate. ‘Produce your own’ is one reason often given for many people getting into photo­ graphy, and the covers of magazines at both ends of the market (Amateur Photographer at 25p and Zoom at £2) tend to reinforce this equation of photography and sex. Avoiding the temptation to indulge in phallic imagery and photography, it is sufficient to note at this point that the very illusionistic potential of photo­ graphy makes pornography possible. It is against background of advertising and mild pornography that it is interesting to review three books: Helmut Newton’s Sleepless Nights, John Hedgecoe’s Possessions and Women on Women. Adverts provide a good context within which to view such books as it is through them that we are constantly confronted with female flesh. (The tabloid pin-ups can also be considered adverts since they sell more papers than hard news does). Adverts are also con­ structed images, as are many of the photos in the books in question. Contemporary advertising photography involves considerable skill and technology, obviously helped by enormous budgets. The very fact that the picture is built up means that its ‘message’ can be so much more effective than a chance social documentary shot - for each factor can be manipulated until the desired overall effect is obtained. A recent trend in advertising has also been to produce enigmatic advertisements which do not overtly state what they are selling but are designed for sophisti­ cated social groupings who can bring their cultural consciousness to the image and thus understand it. The French photographer, Guy Bourdin, for example, has for some time now produced mysterious shoe adverts for glossy magazines. One of his adverts, like a photo by Newton, is often a whole tableau vivant in itself, a frozen moment immaculately lit and photographed, with the audience left to speculate on the message. However, the audience is assumed to be visually literate and can be relied on to search for the message and decode the advert. Helmut Newton comes from this up-market commercial world (Vogue in particular) and, like Bourdin, his work has been recognised as ‘good photography’. Their photographs have become products in themselves and are repro­ duced in books and magazines. Consumer society consumes not only the final product, but also is responsible for the current vogue for publishing posters and record albums in book form. There are many issues over which it is easy to criticise Newton. Firstly, the content of his pictures: a woman is often a sex object par excellence. In one photo she is laid out on an office desk, in another she is crouched on a bed with a saddle on her back. The women are always slim, long legged, beautifully groomed and made-up. They belong to a world of fantasy - male fantasy, so they are submissive, unquestioning - their static poses are arranged for the convenience of a voyeur. Other photos simplify violence and enable a compositionally pleasing photograph to represent an event which, had it been real, would have meant danger and suffering (the bodies on the balcony). Of course there is always a limit to be pushed, bad taste made into good taste, fame obtained through outrage. But at the same time some areas are offensive because they infringe on individual freedom. Thus the outrage that exploded over an evening paper’s fashion spread on ‘Clothes to be Raped in’ can also be directed at certain of Newton’s photos. The viewer becomes involved in the aesthetic of the picture at the expense of emotional involvement with the subject. The French magazine Photo frequently brings the sex and violence angle to an even more horrific juxtaposition. In its March issue some of Helmut Newton’s photos closely followed Marc Riboud’s reportage on atrocities in Iran; the camera did not differen­ tiate between simulated and real suffering. The context in which Newton’s pictures are used also leaves a lot to be desired - they are often used to sell sex in Playboy and Oui and clothes in Vogue - in these cases catering to a readership which is striving to identify with the opulent cosmopolitan settings, and which through photography settles for a vicarious enjoyment of the unobtainable. Newton’s pictures are very much a personal indulgence, the work of someone who is privileged enough to be able to follow up his whims. In a TV programme made about him, he explained how, in the pictures with plaster casts and surgical trusses, he was following up his own obsession with Eric von Stroheim. He had great difficulty in getting hold of the equipment he wanted until a leading Paris hospital was willing to co-operate with his desire to half-dress beautiful models in casts and surgical appliances. Newton’s work is only possible because a class society means expensive, often frivolous, clothes are required by a bourgeois elite. Their ‘culture’ demands sophisticated adverts to sell them goods. Thus there is a job for a photo­ Additions by Camerawork. grapher to produce sumptuous, often risque, pictures. A mild surrealism (the floating hands) is quite permissible, as is a not so mild sadomassochism. At the same time a sexist society has created a market for images of women with beautiful and available bodies. Women are portrayed as models for the real world to imitate - imma­ culately groomed decorative beings, mere life­ less masks. In some of the photos dummies replace ‘real’ women, but it’s difficult to tell who’s the dummy - the live models themselves are only acting out a part. In this way the pictures first exploit the women who are paid to contort themselves before the camera (hilarious to watch in the TV programme where models verged on physical exhaustion whilst repeating shots from a diving board). Next men look at the pictures, recognise the fantasy, and then look for it in the world around them. This means ordinary women are exploited on a second level: for in order to ‘get their man’ they have to try to reenact the fantasy that these women are acting out, mere figments of a male’s imagination. And so the world goes round. One of the redeeming features of Newton’s work might be its humour. It is quite obvious that his pictures ridicule the very world that they portray, although one of the dangerous charms of the bourgeoisie is that it can take jokes against itself. The straight pictures that occasionally appear - the Virgin Mary, butchers shop, Andy Warhol/sleeping angel - are visual jokes on another level. They reinforce the satirical tone of the whole book, a satire which is hardly a saving grace, for all the other images have been exaggerated into seductive fantasies and present a dangerous model of how the world might be. An editor of Vogue talked about the work as ‘social comment’, but for this to mean anything it would have to go much further. Ultimately Newton is very much at home in the bilingual world of cherie/darling. He may talk of his models as ‘little beasts’ but they are decorative enough to be tolerable, and a means to his end. From behind the lens he sees the artificiality and awkwardness of the model’s poses especially as he repeats shots to get it just right and boredom sets in. However, he is also aware of the distorted fantasy he will produce: an immaculate picture of an immaculate woman, an image to keep the world working in the hope that one day it will be attainable. For the moment the viewer is always a voyeur though, outside the world portrayed, which is both exotic (as seen in its colours, locations and longlegged, self-assured women) and disturbing 3 CAMERAWORK c B E o ■s c o c E o £ a S Q £ Skie was horrified iv learn th a t she had been walking around schoolall day with her skirl hiked up in the back. (people in plaster casts, half naked women but fully dressed men, women wrapped around each other for the sake of provocation). The photos are also disturbing in the odd sense of perfection that they emanate - this comes from careful picture construction, so that nothing is left to chance, Newton has visualised the ‘scenario’ and set it up to get the maximum effect from reflections, pictures on the wall, diagonal lines, spaces, contradictions. The two titles, Newton’s Sleeping Nights and Hedgecoe’s Possessions, give an indication of how far both books are from the world where most people live. Newton’s book is not about coping with teething babies, living next to a motorway or life without Mogodon. Nor is Hedgecoe’s book about fighting for a home, stereo, washing machine or even a Ferrari. The two titles also give an indication of the style and worldview of the books, whereas Newton’s is a fantasy dream world of surfacing repressions and unreal situations, Hedgecoe’s is the fantasy of wealth, what one can possess with money . . . ‘these women are possessions, they are the beautiful expensive objects that furnish the rich man’s life and amuse him during the long hours o f his leisure. ’ Hedgecoe’s background is similar to Newton’s - his magazine assignments (for Queen) took him into the world of the upper class. He decided to stay and use the sumptuous setting as a background for his fantasies, to create a world of beautiful, passive women who are bought along with the rest of the furniture. Clive Lancaster heavily criticised the book in the British Journal of Photography No 46 (17th November 1978) and the following week Hedgecoe leapt to his own defence ‘I f you have not realized by now, Possessions is in fact a satire, debunking the reverence paid to this mode of photography. It is related to the style o f over 20 different painters and photographers containing all the cliches o f our medium today. . . If, for example, you look at the photograph . . . o f the two girls attending to their hair, you should notice that this is a David Hamilton-type pose but with a glossy magazine advertising background. Yet one girl has hair like Rip Van Winkle (look it up for signifi­ cance) and the other would not disgrace the image o f a Lancashire millgirl. As John Berger pointed out in Ways of Seeing, the relationship between painting and advertising is a well established one. On pages 136 and 137 he gives examples of adverts and the paintings they are based on. Hedgecoe does not help his reader at all, and for the joke to work presupposes a considerable knowledge of art history. But are people really reverent towards glamour and advertising photography anyway? And is this the way to satirize it - so well that it looks like the real thing? One way to effectively attack and manipulate advertising photography is through image and text, as in the work of Victor Burgin and Derek Boshier, where simple juxtaposition or the addition of text clearly show the vacuous word of glamour and advertising. Hedgecoe’s concluding statement in the BJP gives a better explanation as to why this book was produced and foisted onto an unsuspecting Christmas panic-buying world: . . Why did I produce Possessions? For the same reason that people do crosswords: because o f interest, relaxa­ tion, stimulation and I enjoyed being just a photo­ grapher for eight days.’ Great - of course people should be able to enjoy themselves (for some it’s easier than others), but unfortunately those interested or who will bother to work out the derivation of the cliches are few and far between. More buyers of the books will be enticed by the bare breasts and buttocks, thinking that this sort of photography of women is OK if it is by a photographer with academic credibility and published in a hard-back book rather than a magazine. ‘D on’t you think your work is an insult to women?’ This is the gist of the question a woman reporter asks the eponymous heroine of the film T he Eyes of Laura Mars. The film centres around a woman photographer who is trying to work out her feelings about violence, m urder and everyday life in chic New York through pictures of models in re-staged murder scenes. In fact many of the photos used in the film were taken by Helmut Newton (some of them are published in Sleepless Nights, others in his previous book. White Women.) It is very signi­ ficant that in the film the photographer is a woman, for in the battle of sexual equality it has become apparent that women are just as good as men at shooting female flesh. The underlying dangerous assumption is that if women do it, it must be OK. Whereas men are looking for a turn on, women are explaining ‘basic realities’, producing pictures which ‘truly reflect [their] minds and emotions’ and give back to women ‘their hidden and secret side’. The words in inverted commas all come from W omen on Women a female companion to M asterpieces o f Erotic Photography. This book contains portfolios from twelve women photographers, all interested in explor­ ing female bodies for one reason or another. As in the case of Newton and Hedgecoe many of these women have worked in fashion and advertising, highly competent work to sell a product, and this ethos pervades their work. Linda Benedict-Jones’ work is a notable excep­ tion, but is very lost in a sea of gloss. The personal statement each photographer makes rarely enlightens the reader - take Sarah Moon’s explanation to her work (pictures done for Cacharel, Pirelli and Nova). ‘I am an applied fashion photographer, and inside these limits I am just trying to express what I feel about a certain moment in a certain situation in which women are involved.’ At least Alice Springs is as open as her husband Helmut Newton, about what she is doing__ ‘I am a voyeuse. . . ’. The cumulative effect that emerges from the book is the rather odd idea that an attractive model can be taken as representative of women in general and that the world of fashion and its props is the ‘real’ world. Shirley Beljohn may see her work as pictures of women removed from glossy idealized roles, but photography enables her to create an equally unreal fantasy world, playing with subde colours, comic juxta­ positions, frozen shapes and moments and construct a visually interesting and provocative picture. It is not enough to mock female sexual exploitation by just changing a few of the props. As with Newton and Hedgecoe humour can be very easily misunderstood. The picture of the woman on the lavatory with her feet on a half watermelon (subtle green with red fruit flesh) can be seen as a degrading picture of a woman rather than as a satire on contrived sexual behaviour. For me the most successful section of the book is Marcia Resnick’s work which very adroitly recreates the awkward moments of adolescence. Here again humour is an impor­ tant aspect of the work. But it is society’s expec­ tations that are mocked, rather than the subject herself. The inter-relationship of image and text is absolutely vital here, and it seems at the moment that any work which is undermining, or even just satirising d o m i n a n t ideology needs image and text to make the message clear. Straight visual satire leaves itself wide open to misinterpretation. Lucy Lippard pointed out this danger in a much quoted essay in From the Centre. ‘When women use their own bodies in their art work, they are using themselves; a significant psychological factor, converts these bodies or faces from object to subject. However there are ways and ways o f using one’s own body, and women have not always avoided self-exploitation. A woman artists’s approach to herself is necessarily compli­ cated by social stereotypes. I must admit to a personal lack o f sympathy with women who have themselves photographed in black stockings, garter belts, boots, with bare breasts, bananas, and coy, come hither glances. Parody it may be . . . but the artist rarely seems to get the last laugh. A woman using her own face and body has a right to do what she will with them, but it is a subtle abyss . . . The rest of the book ranges from Caroline Arber’s rather weak version of David Hamilton to Christa Peter’s bold sumptuous glossy mag colour. Too many of the portfolios merely reflect the male dominated market for sexist images and have successfully imitated current styles without undermining them. Obviously the fault does not fully lie with photographers. They are earning a living by servicing a need the demands of a publishing industry and the products that it wants to sell because of a histori­ cally determined market. The point at which women can intervene is to be aware of the images they are producing and question ones which present women as avail­ able, passive bodies. Women on Women also suffers from a change of context. Many of the photographers first produced their work for a commercial market (the end credits acknow­ ledge Stem , Lui, Pirelli and Nova as original publishers), and this work has then been repro­ duced as a personal statement, edited by the publishers into a saleable commodity. This change of context is a problem with all three books. Newton’s is a compilation of several years commercial work brought together with fantasy as a common core to bind the whole into a product. John Hedgecoe would like us to believe he produced the book for himself, and thus sees the pictures, within his personal perspective, in a very different way to the average (male) punter to whom its being sold. Ultimately Sleepless Nights, Possessions and a good two thirds of Women on Women come up against the hurdle that advertising photography has so successfully identified images of women (especially nude or seminude) with selling that female sexuality is auto­ matically read as an integral part of the cash nexus. Humour is also a key feature in market­ ing, as well as the most insidious means of main­ taining sexist, racist, etc, stereotypes. Combine these two - women and humour - and you have a very loaded product. Any reader will have to cut through layers of cultural conditioning before these images can be seen as other than exploitative and thus degrading. Jenny Matthews Possessions John Hedgecoe (.Mitchell Beazley Publishers Ltd, London. £9.95) Sleepless Nights Helmut Newton (Quartet Books L td, London. £10.95) Women on Women Twelve photographic portfolios (Aurum Press Ltd. £14.95) 4 Although the Tate Gallery is an art institution of the British state charged with the responsibility for collecting examples of contemporary British art it does not recognize advertising photo­ graphy as art. Nevertheless, full colour advertis­ ing photography is, arguably, the true public art of our time (true in the sense that it embodies the central values of our present culture). Western art lovers sneer at the Socialist Realism of the Eastern Bloc countries but accept without demur the Capitalist Realism displayed so prominently on the streets of our cities and in our mass circulation magazines. There can be few people in Britain who have not noticed, and been intrigued by, the adverts for Benson & Hedges gold special filter cigarettes. The series is noteworthy for the high quality of its colour photography and for the inventiveness shown by the advertisers in playing variations on their basic concept of a gold box of cigarettes placed in various settings. One image from the series a view through a window to a village green - I find especially compelling: it induces in me a profound sense of gloom; this emotion is in itself somewhat unusual because most adverts celebrate positive rather than negative values. This text is an attempt to explain how the image could produce such a response. Photographers have inherited a system of pictorial representation - linear perspective perfected by painters during the Italian Renais­ sance and they have also inherited a sophisti­ cated system of pictorial rhetoric developed by the painters of Western Europe over many centuries. Avant-garde artists constantly question the languages they employ Modernism in art often implies a language crisis, a rupture with meaning - whereas advertising photographers prefer to exploit the pre-Modern heritage of Western European painting and caricature. Adverts play with linguistic and pictorial rhetoric, but since their primary function is to communicate with a specified fraction of the general public, that play is limited in order to preserve coherence and intelligibility. Some adverts, it is true, make use of the artistic innovations of Dada and Surreal­ ism - the Benson & Hedges series amongst them - but their homage to art generally stops short of total obscurity and meaninglessness. When images whose meaning is indeterminate are used (the latest Benson & Hedges adverts fall into this category), their purpose is to attract and to puzzle the viewer in order to hold his or her attention. 66 . cigarette ads are not ads for smoking, but for brands. ? ? 66 . . the cigarette industry does not need advertising to maintain its level of consumption. It needs it only for the purposes of competition. The bene­ ficiaries of that competition ultimately are the consumers. If advertising were banned the strong brands would grow stronger and the weak weaker. ? ? Quotes from Rex Van Rossum (marketing director of Carreras Rothmans (UK) ‘Cigarettes and the Right to Advertise’ Campaign 17th March 1978 pp 30-32. T he open window motif My argument that advertising photographers generally prefer to exploit the pre-modern heritage of painting is borne out, I contend, by the Benson & Hedges image under scrutiny: it makes use of a compositional device especially favoured by the painters of German Romanti­ cism, namely, the open window motif (a view of landscape seen through a window from the interior of a dark room). In an article on the iconography of Romanti­ cism Lorenz Eitner writes: ‘The pure windowview is a romantic invention - neither landscape, nor interior, but a curious combination o f both. It brings the confinement o f an interior into the most immediate contrast with an immensity o f space outside . . . I t often places the beholder so close to the window that little more than an enclosingframe o f darkness remains o f the interior, but this is suffi­ cient to maintain the suggestion o f a separation between him and the world outside. He is actually put in the position o f the ‘figure at the window’. The situation closely resembles a favourite theme in Romantic literature: the poet at the window surveys a distant landscape and is troubled by a desire to escape from his narrow existence into the world CAMERAWORK encompasses both past and future.’ However, she adds this proviso: ‘since the picture is finished and the future events are never open, but specifically directed . . . So the spectator is put in possession o f a closure, a narrative sequence which is inevitably pre-determined.’ The ideological significance of this closure will be considered later. On page 162 Williamson gives the following analysis of the Benson & Hedges advert: ‘Here the open window links the present o f the foreground to the future; it signifies promise, and the distant light in the sky bears this out. The objects in the foreground are part o f the structure o f the myth, the story o f the picture. The cricket ball and wicket show w hat has been happening: they were playing cricket when it rained and spoilt the game. The pictures inside and the old church provide a basis in The Past (this hovers on the boundary o f ‘history’ since it represents a cultural, common ‘past’). A ll these things give clues as to the type o f person this is (and we are invited to be the person . . . ) . I t is quite clear in one static shot, the story o f the situation may be told. However there is a less clear dimension involving projection: the advertisement links a mythical present (the ‘story’ already described) to a mythical future, via the product; drink/smoke this and you will be led out o f the window . . . in the direction o f the future; but a future constructed . . . out o f a mythically structured past (the old church, the tankard, etc). The perspective o f the picture helps this trans­ porting to the mythicalfuture: the edge o f the picture frame and the frame o f the open window form a bounded perspective pointing inwards to the church at the other side o f the cricket pitch. The movement is then carried up and out o f the picture, via the church spire. So in fact our vision skims over the present, the abandoned cricket pitch, the rainy window, and already lodges (imaginarily) in a brighter future. As the caption says: ‘Every cloud has a gold lining.’ This implies a deterministic ‘happy ending’ to present events - also that time is as uncontrollable as the weather; you must simply wait for the sun to come out again, or for things to improve. ’4 This analysis can be schematized as follows: Top: above, background, far, outside, future, spiritual. spread out before him . . . The window is like a threshold and at the same time a barrier. Through it, nature, the world, the active life beckon, but the artist remains imprisoned, not unpleasantly, in domestic smugness. The window image thus illus­ trates perfectly the themes o f frustrated longing, o f lust for travel or escape . . . I t contrasts w hatA .W . Schlegel called the ‘poetry o f possession’ - the intimate interior - with the ‘poetry o f desire’ - the tempting spaces outside. This juxtaposition o f the very close and the fa r away adds a peculiar tension to the sense o f distance, more poignant than could be achieved in pure landscape.’1 A number of reasons can be given for the special appeal of the interior-with-window-view motif: (1) a viewer looking at a picture gazes into an imaginary space which he or she cannot literally enter, hence the imaginary beholder’s relationship to the window parallels the viewer’s relationship to the image. Furthermore, the window view (an instance of the picture-withinthe-picture device) is placed at a double remove from the viewer thereby increasing the poign­ ancy of his or her longing to enter it; (2) the motif echoes the very structure of visual perception itself, that is, our consciousness of being located inside a head (a room) looking out through our eyes (windows) to a world beyond us. In other words, the motif seems to be a visualization of the subject/object dichotomy of philosophy; (3) the movement from dark to light, from construc­ tion to expansion, as the eyes of the beholder penetrate the depths of the picture, space dupli­ cates the passage of a child from the womb to the world during birth. The absent spectator Judith Williamson explains in her text Decoding Advertising: ‘Every advertisement assumes a particular spectator: it projects into the space out in front o f it an imaginary person composed in terms o f the relationships between the elements within the ad. You move into this space as you look at the ad, and in doing so ‘become’ the spectator.’ Adverts shout, or whisper, ‘Hey you!’; ‘The ‘ you’ in ads is always transmitted plural, but we receive it as singular.’2That is, adverts are always aimed at groups in society but they are perceived one at a time by individuals. They interpellate concrete individuals as concrete subjects (here Williamson makes use of Althusser’s writings on ideology). No one is depicted within the ad but the picture is constructed in such a way that a person is suggested outside the picture space. Analysing another ad from the same series Williamson comments: ‘The perspective o f the picture places us in a spatial relationship to it that suggests a common spatiality (as in all ‘classical’ art); everything is proportioned to the gaze o f the observer - us, the absent person ‘meant’ by the picture’ 2 When I look into the picture I occupy . the position of the abstract subject constructed by the image: I am in a darkish room looking out of a window towards the village green where the cricket match has been abandoned because of bad weather. Before me on the window ledge is a cricket ball and bails, a mug of beer, a packet of cigarettes and an old photograph. The ducks/The birdcage/The art gallery/ The Christmas tree/The mousehole 48 sheet poster series was awarded the ‘Best of the year’ honour by judges from the Design Council in 1978: 66 We felt in many ways that the Benson and Hedges series was a milestone in poster advertising. The brilliant use of surrealism arouses curiosity and has created a talking point. The series has tre­ mendous brand impact and illustrates, perhaps, how the constraints on cigarette advertising can act as a spur to creativity. We had no hesitation in choosing the Benson and Hedges ‘Birdcage’ as the best poster of the year. 66 Special Filter is selling at the rate of well over 1,000 million cigarettes a month and has emerged as the group’s most profitable brand, while some of the older lines like Senior Service, Kensitas and Park Drive have slowly faded. Ronnie Roter Quotes from “Gallaher: Lessons We Learn from our Failed Brands” Campaign 16 Feb 1979 pp 37-39. Time as a commodity In chapter seven of Decoding Advertising Williamson discusses time, narrative and history. She claims that ads ‘can represent not only an event, but a series o f events’; ads can ‘evoke the past, promise the future, or tell a story which Bottom: below, foreground, near inside, present, material. It is clear that the movement of our vision into the imaginary depths of the picture space is a movement in time (if when travelling along a road we look towards the horizon we see how far we have to travel to reach our future goal); it is an imaginary projection into the future. But that future is not merely the possibility of brighter skies and the resumption of the game of cricket but the certainty o f death. The perspective lines of the window frame direct our gaze irresistibly towards the vanishing point: the church on the horizon, the exit point of Christians. As Williamson points out, the spire exits out of the picture space (it thrusts upwards towards the heavens). We are now in a position to comprehend the melancholy character of the photograph. It is not merely the grey skies and sombre colours, it is the latent message of the image: ‘I am alone; play has stopped; my cup is full; soon I will leave this world; in the meantime there is the consolation of beer and cigarettes.’ Whether the advertisers consciously or unconsciously intended to make a connection between cigarettes and death I do not know, yet I am convinced the picture asserts such a connection. (The ‘author’s’ intention is often thought of as the ‘truth’ of a text, but this overlooks the difference between an intention and an action the two frequently fail to correspond). Cigarettes are a consolation for the inevitability of death but since cigarette smoking is a contri­ buting factor to lung cancer they also hasten death. Thus the unconscious message of the advert seems to be: ‘death is a cloud on the horizon; cigarettes bring it nearer, but on the other hand, the pleasure of smoking is to some extent a consolation for death’s inevitability.’ Ideology The photograph links a modern product with a number of traditional English values - beer, cricket, the village green, the local church, previous generations (the photo on the window ledge), and in doing so, it imparts a thoroughly quietistic worldview: ‘each individual faces death alone, you must accept it without struggle.’ The picture sees the future only in terms of the past, or rather, in terms of a particular reading of the past. That is, a reading which stresses conservative values as against, CAMERAWORK say, revolutionary values. Since I am not a smoker or a Christian the physical and spiritual consolation offered by the ad has no appeal for me. Politically I am opposed to the quietism of the ad. However, these personal reactions are not sufficient to explain the sense of unease produced by the ad, because, after all, even a non-Christian can respond sympathetically to works of art such as those by Bellini or Casper David Friedrich which were motivated by a genuine religious sentiment. Ultimately what makes the ad so hollow is the recognition that its producers have left themselves out, that is, the people who actually made the ad served simply as agents for the manufacturers —no personal commitment was involved. In all likelihood the media workers do not believe in Christianity or even in the English heritage; the only thing one can be certain they believe in is commodities and the necessity to move them. These remarks can be justified as follows: when the series of ads as a whole is examined, it becomes immediately clear that what the advertisers appropriate and manipulate are existing systems of meaning common throughout our culture (what Williamson calls ‘referent systems’); examples are: the Olympic games, the cup final, holidays abroad, the thirties, Christmas, Space travel, the pyramids of Egypt, etc. f t Cigarettes are Britain’s largest packaged goods product category. Consumer expenditure is a massive £3.5 billion per year, of which over £2.4 billion goes in revenue to the government. The industry exports over £200 million per year, employs directly over 30,000 people and indirectly, through suppliers, retailers, etc, contributes to the employ­ ment of at least two million more. Over half the adult population buys the product almost daily. It is sold through over 300,000 retail outlets and is normally their biggest turnover item. It is one of the few packaged goods that is asked for by name. It is largely consumed in public and frequently offered as a gesture of friend­ ship in social and working conditions. There are over 150 brands on sale, prices are high - an average of over 50p per pack - and competition is very keen indeed. For an industry as large and significant as this to lose its basic freedom to compete by the use of advertising would be a very serious matter indeed. Rex van Rossum Advertising has a voracious appetite for these meaning systems because it consumes them so rapidly. The problem which the media workers constantly face is to find ways of injecting new life into tired meaning systems. Advertising as a system is indifferent to the content of the meaning systems it processes. Hence, it can make use of images of the heroes of the left, and it can make use of revolutionary rhetoric - safe in the knowledge that all authentic meaning will be contained by being trivialized and made humorous. The distanced, ironic manipulations of material hostile to advertising by media workers ensure that no one misses the point: ‘When we talk of revolution, we are, of course, only joking.’ Simultaneously the system demonstrates its enormous power and flexibility: ‘Look we can assimilate and bend to our own purposes even those who are opposed to us. Don’t worry about communism, capitalism is stronger, we show you that communism is harmless, that it is not serious; rest content.’ John A. Walker John A. Walker lectures in the history of art at Middlesex Polytechnic and at West Surrey College of Art. References: (1) L. Eitner ‘The open window and the storm tossed boat: an essay in the iconography of Romanticism’ Art Bulletin 37 (4) December 1955 pp 281-290. (2) J. Williamson Decoding Advertising: Ideo­ logy and Meaning in Advertising (Marion Boyars, 1978) p 50. (3) Op cit (2) p 78. (4) Op cit (2) p 162. Photo-silkscreen by Judith Rugg (original size 655mm x 500mm) Problemsofan alternative image In between Rembrandt and early exploration of photography was the exploration of changing self-image as form. Because of the dominant nature of the medium, formal aspects of paint­ ing were primary concerns, rather than the subjective aspects of self representation. The debate around photography as Art, and the threat that photography made to the dominance of painting as two-dimensional representation at the end of the eighteenth century is reflected in the kind of imagery used by early photo­ graphers. An acceptance of the nature of painting asserts itself in the nature of the photo­ graphic image. Working from a feminist critique as a photo­ grapher, and challenging kinds of forms and imagery by working with an alternative imagery of women, one has to examine the way in which the form of photography supports the imagery. As photography is the main vehicle of commu­ nication which presents us with negative images of ourselves, what need to be examined are the mechanisms inherent in the medium which account for the success of these negative images. I see this in terms of examining the form, using the medium to comment on itself. Taking photographs (or for that matter working in any medium from a critical point of view in relation to the subject matter) necessi­ tates a recognition of all the associations that the subject matter implies. This is in addition to its presentation within a fine art context, which context implies an aesthetic. There is a paradox in what Angela Kelly describes as the essentially private practice of self-portraiture in photo­ graphy (Self Image: the Personal is Political Camerawork 12) and the presentation of the image in a public context. This public presenta­ tion affects the original intentions of the photo­ grapher, and while Angela Kelly acknowledges this in her writing, it is difficult to interpret this in her piece Woman’s Identity. At this point I should define the term ‘feminist artist’: those women who are working in a critical visual way and who have an aware­ ness of the machinations of our oppression as women, and who are attempting to subvert it in visual terms within the context of fine art. Having defined it thus, we must acknowledge and analyse the common problems: is the perspective of so-called feminist artists/ photographers necessarily evidenced in a work regardless of content and subject matter? It doesn’t seem so to me. Woman’s Identity conveys meaning on certain levels. These are altered by knowing the political/ideological point of approach of the photographer. This is not always apparent in the work itself, but in statements by the person who produced the work. The group of images presented as Woman’s Identity appear to be a collection of isolated images. There is no coherence between them. As such they are dangerously on the brink of supporting what it is they are intended to oppose. As such they do not take cognizance of the fact that because of the supportive historical system behind sexist imagery, there is no need for it to have textual explanations - the imagery locates itself automatically. We are dis­ advantaged by our images being presented in isolation, as even positive re-evaluated female imagery is in danger of being neutralised or sub­ sumed into the dominant patriarchal culture. With reference to Angela Kelly’s point that Jo Spence’s photographs are inseparable from the text, is it because of the range of associations we are conditioned to have of a media reinforced image of women? I do not necessarily agree here that the text is essential to the reading of the photographs or that the photographs are illustrating the text; surely this places the image within a particular framework - as illustration. On the same level of criticism of Angela Kelly’s point here, I would question how a visual medium could make a literal statement, since I think that Jo Spence’s photographs support themselves as images and as such are not illus­ trative to the text. An essentially visual medium has to make a visual statement, and in order to successfully disrupt the pattern which forms the ways images of women are received and under­ stood, I think it is important to understand what that statement is, how it came to be made, and its importance to the actual medium. As feminist artists/photographers do we also have to identify the context in which we present our work if the meaning of the subject matter is related to the context? E.g. work presented in a gallery has a meaning which shifts when that work is reproduced in a magazine such as Camerawork where it is supplemented by text. In relation to self-portraiture: in order to produce a polarised image one has to question the kind of image one has of oneself in relation to the bombardment of derogatory images of women we are confronted with daily. In order to present a photographically positive image of oneself, one has first to have a positive selfimage. The inability, at this point in the modern tradition of photography, to make statements of facts or ‘objective truths’ is related to the kinds of ways in which women have been and are pre­ sented to the world. Nonetheless, the perpetua­ tion of a supposed norm (subordination of women) necessitates that we understand photo­ graphy precisely in terms of its supposed ability to objectify truthfully. We need to recognise this in order to de-construct it and re-evaluate the imagery we are confronting on our own terms. By challenging the images of role stereotypes perpetuated by the media, one is also drawing on an historical assumption and association related to that form of imagery in order to change it. When one is forced to make a point of one’s stand as a feminist the problem arises of how to make that point as part of the image itself. Whilst we are working to change the ways images of women are being presented we must acknowledge that we are, to an extent, part of an ideology that oppresses us. If we produce nega­ tive images of ourselves - if our work is under­ stood as not referring to but supporting sexist imagery - then we collude with our own self­ oppression. The clarity of one’s critical position is crucial. In describing Lee Friedlander’s approach to self-portraiture, Angela Kelly disregards the content of the image which is used to illustrate his work, where we see the familiar arrange­ ment of the protagonist male and the seemingly irrelevant passer-by who happens to be a woman. The fact that she happens to be a woman reinforces the point Angela Kelly is opposing. There is no such thing as a neutral (i.e. without pre-determined association) imagery where women are concerned. Simi­ larly, in the presentation of Richard Greenhill’s photograph from Family Self Portrait, a woman is represented as bringing a Christmas pudding to what we may imagine is a table crammed with waiting family members. The zone which Angela Kelly describes as the ‘area of art making’ cannot be dealt with until the area of art making and the reasons for criticising it have been clearly formulated. How does one, working in an aesthetic medium escape the tradition of the ‘fine print aesthetic’? If one is working within a specific set of defini­ tions of ‘art practice’, redefining the area to suit one’s needs can become an area of critique implemented within the work. It seems to me to be necessary to question the form of the photographic image in order to relocate photography as a potential force to question its own validity. Or, as far as we are concerned, to question its own validity as a vehicle of negative imagery. Does the practice of ‘art making’ become an activity primarily concerned with art as a commodity and there­ fore part of a system which advances our self­ oppression? One solution to part of the problem would be to make one’s work unsaleable and avoid, to an extent, the implications of the ‘fine print aesthetic’. However, if the look of the ‘fine print aesthetic’ is congenial to one’s subject matter it operates on a different level (i.e. it can be used to support the subject matter). A problem inherent in my own work is the way these levels operate in conjunction with the method of presentation and with clearly stating my case. Working with a medium like photo­ graphic silkscreen, it is an important part of my work to reintroduce the kind of aesthetic, seductive quality of advertising imagery which itself employs certain devices used in painting. The problem of a feminist imagery being under­ stood within a barrage of contradictory state­ ments is one which I share with many feminist artists currently working with photographic material. Judith Rugg a CAMERAWORK Primarily using photography, I have constructed a statement about a specific geographical area whose people are on their knees. But if their economic well­ being is desperate, Clydesiders are not defeated. The women and men of West Central Scotland have a mili­ tant past and their future security is theirs to make. As a journalist I recorded a period of time. I am an optimist because I am a socialist. The struggle to achieve political and therefore economic control of our lives will be long and difficult. I hope these photographs will contribute to that continuing struggle. LARRY HERMAN Processing turkeys, Pinkerton’s, Paisley. Many women are employed in low-paid assembly-line work in the factories that have grown up around Clydeside. When I was little my parents taught me a rhyme about their city, based on Glasgow’s coat of arms. It went as follows: This This This This Coats mill, Paisley. The multinational Coats group of companies made pre-tax profits of £ 16.2 million in the first six months of 1975. During the first half of 1976 pre-tax profits were £31.9 million. Assembly track, Chrysler Linwood. Workers’ ferry from McAlpine’s oil rig construction site at Ardyne Point to Wemyss Bay, after a twelve hour shift. This, the last site working on the Clyde was due to close a few months after this picture was taken. The labour force, already cut to 1600, will be redundant. is is is is the bell that never rang the fish that never swam the bird that never flew the tree that never grew Those four lines tell so much of Glasgow’s story. O f the obvious physical confines in which Glaswegians have lived their lives. Of terrible houses, hard jobs and foul working conditions, of freedom denied and potentiality crushed. But for all that, those four lines fall far short of reaching Glasgow’s most extraordinary feature, its inner soul, its extraordinary people. Defeated but invincible, deprived but possessed of great style and elegance, downtrodden but amazingly resilient and funny. And most of all, lovable and loving. In its people the ‘sweet green place’ of the Gaelic lives on. It was a small entity until the nineteenth century. Then one hundred years of explosive growth set in. People were extracted from the Highlands, the Islands and across the seas in Ireland to feed the shipyards and the steelmills and the coalmines required for this, the arsenal of the British empire. For every mile of the Clyde there was a millionaire. And for every major slum property development too no doubt. So fantastic were the takings in the good years before the end of World War One that captains of industry developed guilt feelings. The beastly Burrell, for example, Scotland’s own Citizen Kane/Cain was a compulsive buyer of bounty and treasure on an unbelievable scale. He finally tired of personally fondling his items day in and day out and struck a nice balance between shame and tax avoidance by leaving the lot to the City. Most of that Glasgow is now gone. The Coal Board cleared the Lanarkshire coalfields. The Steel Industry has closed door after door. In shipbuilding the czars are state grandees nowa­ days, concerned exclusively with browbeating Glasgow’s few remaining sons of the shipyards into meeting the output standards of Far Eastern shipyards where trade unionism is a one way ticket to the prison cell. In place of the ghettos and slums have come new towns, Cumbernauld and East Kilbride, outside Glasgow and hundreds of high rise blocks within. Then there have come dual carriage ways and motorways which stick out like sore thumbs in a city where car ownership is lower than any other in the UK. The old industrial base has gone. And in have come the capital intensive multinationals concerned not with the assembly of art collec­ tions but the repatriation of profits to fictional homelands like Luxembourg, Lichtenstein or Grand Cayman. Once again the people’s health is a source of terrible anxiety, with Glasgow the undisputed cancer capital of the world. Time again perhaps for the tree to grow and the bird to fly. Laurie Flynn Britain has a mixed economy with many firms under public ownership. This policy has been used, particularly since the Second World War, to facilitate the expansion and profits of the private sector because it has always been the weakest businesses that have been nationalised. We do not believe that nationalising our industries can solve the problems of the men and women who work in the yards. But with public ownership, we can begin to reverse the deterioration. Therefore, state ownership is the demand of the shipbuilding workers. It is not a case of having the choice in the matter. Regard­ less of weaknesses in public ownership of other industries, there should be no doubt that if our industry is left in private hands, the historic decline will accelerate and in a few years we will have very little shipbuilding in Britain. The management view during the past decade has been that shipbuilding has not been profitable. But they have never taken a broad view of society. The major decline of British shipbuilding not only affects jobs in the yards. In a fundamental way it affects steelmaking. Small specialist suppliers to the industry suffer, and, of course, unemployment affects local shops. Basically shipbuilding is an asset to the community and it is an asset to the whole region where the yards are located. Yards are operated inefficiently and this is caused because profits are hardly ever reinvested in shipbuilding. They are sent abroad, invested in other domestic industries or are used to finance speculation in the commodity, money or property markets. Our industry has been badly managed with the workers left powerless regarding decision making at management level. Britain is primarily an importing and export­ ing nation, and not to have an overall plan for shipping is economic lunacy. Today, ship­ building cannot be successful if it is left in isola­ tion from deep-sea and coastal cargo handling. In a planned shipbuilding industry, ship repair would be nationalised too since virtually all repair yards are part of shipbuilding groups. The labour movement must recognise that the traditional economic theories and values operating in this country are anti-social. We must demand a planned economy. The public ownership of industry must be used for the regeneration of our manufacturing base. There has to be forward planning of the British merchant fleet so we can build for future needs. Once our industry begins to expand and the confidence of workers is established, secure in the long-term prospects of their industry, then tensions within the industry like demarcation will disappear. Joint Shop Stewards Committee, Govan Shipbuilders Ltd, Glasgow A ll photographs by Larry Herman, whose work in Glasgow was financed by three grants from the Arts Council and support from local shop stewards committees. The pictures are available as a travel­ ling exhibition from Third Eye Centre, Glasgow, and a book is in preparation. 4 CAMERAWORK Jim Russell, one of the elected worker-directors, with the first copy of the first edition of the Scottish Daily News. Funded by Government business and public subscription, the paper was started when the Scottish Daily Express moved its printing to Manchester. Workers occupied the building for a year to safeguard the presses, but the paper only survived from May to November 1975. Ship’s painter, Govan shipyards. Clydeside is Scotland’s major port. It covers an area of 450 square miles or river, estuaries and sea lochs. 13,000 vessels and 19,000,000 tonnes of goods pass through the port every year. January 1974: the last day of full-time working before the start of the three-day week. Main Gate, Chrysler Linwood. Mass meeting of public transport workers striking against redundancies and the closure of Partick Garage. Since 1967 the number of people working on the buses has been reduced from 7000 to 4000, the number of buses in service from 1500 to 900, and fares have gone up 10%. It is now cheaper to travel by taxi if you go in a group of four. Retired boilermakers annual outing, Largs. Many boilermakers suffer loss of hearing by the time they retire. Picket, Clydeport Container Terminal, Greenock. Lorry drivers’ strike 1974. CAMERAWORK Photography for the Disabled? From the stark fact that, ‘There are over three million disabled people in Britain’, the text of Being Disabled quickly moves on to the more personal. The photo-essays build up very solid impressions of personalities and attitudes. A sequence on Maxine Wilson, a young black woman chairbound from birth, paints a parti­ cularly strong picture. Part of her own commen­ tary runs: ‘People sometimes make me feel unhappy, their altitudes towards you. It can be rather uncomfortable sometimes, the things they say about you. They think I shouldn’t mix with white people.’ The show is largely devoid of harsh pictures. Something in the photographs has struck me. 1 have always loved children since I was nine. I have always wanted one, but that is some­ thing that will never be. There is no chance of us adopting. They are very anti disabled people adopting. I mean you have to prove yourself. One of the few shows a middle-aged man, suffering from multiple sclerosis, being sus­ Adjusting to becoming disabled has been rather traumatic both for me and my parents. It affected my parents in as much as they had to move house to a suitable bungalow that was accessible both inside and out, but even then extensive adaptations had to be carried out which caused considerable upheavals. They also had to come to terms with me being utterly dependent upon them to do everything for me. I couldn’t make a cup of tea or any­ thing during the period that I was living with them. It put a lot of strain on them actually. pended from a complicated hoist contraption over a lavatory. Some of the photographs of children almost fall into a category of senti­ mentalism, yet possibly the worst offender which captures a boy and a girl of about five kissing each other while they support them­ selves on trolleys - is an excellent picture. In a workmanlike way, evidence on matters of education, transport, access and so on is constructed. Clearly there should be much better provision and a lot more thought devoted Paul Lucas and Hazel Peasley (quoted above) with Hazel’s sister and her child Peter White, who is blind, playing with his son on his day off. to the disabled so that they could more easily visit cinemas, use trains and get up kerbs. And clearly this thought is largely absent. Unfor­ tunately the exhibition is weak on offering any solutions. It is a little quirk of mine, that I would like to see the head of a council in a wheelchair for a day, because if you stuck every councillor in a wheelchair and said right, get about your business, they could never manage, they wouldn't know what to do. They would never be able to get around Southampton, because of all the difficulties involved with pavements and crossings and all the rest of it. I have probably got an ideal world in which my life is totally acceptable and you don’t have to bother about getting help anywhere. It is extremely thorough at presenting the current situation of the physically disabled and competently manages to show them as human beings with a whole range of hopes, desires and fears - just like anyone else. It seems to suggest that by being nicer and more concerned ordinary people may make a significant contri­ bution towards changing the rough deal the disabled get at the moment. But is this enough? It would be foolish to deny that the organisers of this exhibition - which in itself is something of a radical breakthrough for a straight photo­ graphic gallery to create - were not subject to certain constraints. And it would seem, rightly or wrongly, that they settled for portraying the experiences of the disabled and not digging deeper. The text towards the end warns the viewer that the exhibition is only a starting point for breaking down the popular stereotypes that attach themselves to the disabled. However, this line does appear a little transparent. It neglects to even suggest that commercial interests, the economics of capitalism, political discrimination against minority groups and sheer exploitation of human beings might have anything to do with it. Why are the disabled badly done by? Why is the National Health Service crumbling away before our eyes? Why don’t Mecca ballrooms make it easier for disabled people to attend them? Why do Mecca ballrooms also have a record for discriminating against blacks? Why do Mecca ballrooms support the Tory Party? Are any of these questions related? It is this line of investigation that is absent from the exhibition. I think that the photographs are quite good, in as much as they portray some of the diffi­ culties that we come up against. They don’t show that I can’t feel from the armpits down. It doesn’t portray either how you manage to get over most of the problems. It doesn’t portray the actual living conditions in some cases or the noise from the street for instance.. As I looked at the exhibition in that university hall, a cleaning lady came up to me and asked whether I was connected with it. She went on: ‘You see my husband’s disabled, and since it happened he hasn’t been able to find any work - do you think the people to do with this might know some way o f helping him out?’ The reality of that woman’s problem - and that of millions of others - will hang around until enough people start asking the right questions. Questions that have been avoided, consciously or uncon­ sciously, in Being Disabled. Graham Wade A Kind of Life is a laminated touring show avail­ able from H .M .P .W . Tel 980 8798 Being Disabled is a touring show laminated on panels available from The Photographic Gallery, University o f Southampton. Tel. Southampton (0703) 559122 Barry Lewis Barry Lewis Lily and Roy Harlow outside their home Barry Lewis Paul Lucas In the 19lh century Doctor Diamond took photos o f‘insane people’ to use as illustrations for a medical text­ book. Ever since, mentally and physically handicapped people have been photographed for a variety of different reasons -from conscious exploitation to social concern. Last year two exhibitions took place on the theme o f disability, both propagandistic in favour o f their subjects, seeking to show ‘how things really are’. Being Disabled was exhibited at The Photographic Gallery, Southampton. This exhibition was researched by Paul Carter who followed up a it/ish from the gallery to cooperate with the Department of Rehabilitation at the University o f Southampton. The aim was to create an exhibition which would break down stereotyped ideas o f the physically disabled. Barry Lewis was chosen as the photographer, and together with Paul Carter, interviewed the people who had been photographed. The exhibition was finally edited by a large group ofpeople, half o f them professionally involved in photography, and half of them disabled. A Kind of Life by Halvard Kjaervik was exhibited at the H alf Moon. The photographer documented the lives o f some o f the residents in an institution for the mentally handicapped in Northern Norway, whilst he himself worked there as an attendant. He hoped his pictures would present a case for the integration of the mentally retarded into society, rather than their isolation in institutions, and also show that the menially handicapped are human beings. Both exhibitions were praised as being sensitive and useful in explaining the situation of handicapped people to the world, but both were also criticised. The following review of Being Disabled by Graham Wade, and a letterfrom Peter Kennard and Jessica James on A Kind of Life indicates some of the problems o f working on the representation o f handicapped people. The quotes (in boxes) are by Hazel Peasley and Paul Lucas from the Being Disabled exhibition. CAMERAWORK Panel 4 from ‘A Kind of Life’ by Helvard Kjaervik Panel 5 from ‘A Kind of Life’ by Helvard Kjaervik Panel 9 from ‘A Kind of Life’ by Helvard Kjaervik ear Camerawork, Kjaervik’s exhibition sounded inte­ resting and different.He claimed to be taking photographs of mentally retarded people from the standpoint of someone who was involved and who had an intimate understanding of the mentally retarded from the experience of three years work in a large institution for them in Norway. He had not, it seemed, intended to take pictures as a photographer might in his search for unusual or sensational subject matter but rather to use the camera as an extension of his job. Furthermore, he appeared to question the exis­ tence of such institutions and the society which perpetuates them. As he writes in the notes accompanying the exhibition: ‘It was depressing tofind myselfa participant in a system which I felt I could not accept?. And he writes at some length of the need to inform the public about the mentally retarded before their integration in society can become a reality. But his text is often confused and, combined with his photographs, shows neith
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorSantiago Castrillon, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Shirley Read, Siddhiratna, Mike Swift, Keith Cavanagh (Distribution)
      • author_writerDavid Russell, George Black, Mark Holborn
      • author_photographerEikoh Hosoe, Alon Reininger, Yoshikatsu Saeki, Chris Steele-Perkins
      • author_designerRichard Platt, Ken Sprague, Ernst Volland
      • author_interviewee
      • author_organisationManchester Studies Archive
      • tagsmanchester studies archive rescue,history,archives,oral history,family collection,industry,sandinista,managua,fsln,somoza,nicaragua dictatorship and revolution,civil war,photojournalism,news photography,photography agencies,japanese photography today and its origins,canon,eikoh hosoe,camera obscura,diagram,instructions,do it yerself,lewisham,camerawork,horror,race today,community,political,realism,marxism,capitalism,photography theory,phototography practice,photography analysis,anti-realism,visual representation,socialism,community photography,self-image,camerawork readers' meeting,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 16
      • subtitleIssue 16: Manchester Studies Archive, Nicaragua in the News, Japanese Photography Reviewed, Camera Obscura, Camerawork 8 and the Political Photographer
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, David Russell, George Black, Mark Holborn, Eikoh Hosoe, Alon Reininger, Yoshikatsu Saeki, Chris Steele-Perkins, Richard Platt, Ken Sprague, Ernst Volland, Manchester Studies Archive
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1,2,3) Manchester, UK (pg 4,5,6) Nicaragua (pg 6,7) Japan (pg 10,11,12,13) Lewisham, London, UK
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      • pdf_textTravelling Boxing Booth, Lancashire 1936 Manchester Studies Archive Manchester Studies Archive Nicaragua in the News Japanese Photography reviewed Camera Obscura Camerawork 8 and the Political Photographer No.16 Half Moon Photography Workshop 60p/$1.75 1 CAMERAWORK W orkm en building the M anchester Ship C anal, 1880’s Any Old Albums ? — building a people's history 7 think there was more good deeds, as regards getting a man a job, in the Vault than ever came from the Rectory or from the - where you sign on - Labour Exchange. There was more jobs got, more good deeds done in there, in the Vault.' ardly the stuff of the historian; especially coming, as it does from a man recalling his experiences of the Depression in a small, heavily industrialized and isolated part of Manchester. The affirmation of the practical help to be found as a matter of course amongst the camaraderie and intimacy of the male preserve at the local pub, and the denial of the efficacy of those agencies established to ‘assist those in need’, are the sort of notions that often crop up in conversation with people who were directly affected by the catastrophes of the Thirties. What may surprise, perhaps, is that this man’s memories of the home, childhood, school, work and leisure, as well as unemployment and poverty - in fact, of all the routine and extraordinary in his life in that neighbourhood are preserved on tape, and are kept in the name of ‘history’. And so are those of many of his contemporaries and of their children. This man has also kept a number of photographs taken in his district during the early decades of the century; photo­ graphs that, for instance, show local men setting off with whippets to hunt rats and hares on a Sunday morning, show the neighbourhood’s Original Burlesque Peggy-Leg Band, children at school and at play, Whit Sunday processions, charabanc outings, carnivals and pageants, show his family standing in their front doorway on the eve of the sons’ embarkation for the Great War, and show those same people individually photographed amongst the trappings of respec­ tability and material prosperity which the local studio photo­ grapher felt obliged to provide. These photographs comple­ mented by appropriate extracts from transcribed taperecordings, have recently been included in an exhibition that toured Manchester and Salford - an exhibition which, judging by the response of librarians and public alike, has gone some way towards provoking a serious evaluation of the historical content of the family photograph album. The photographs too are preserved, and permanently available to anyone who wishes to use them. At present, they constitute one of nearly nine hundred deposits in a collec­ tion totalling some fourteen thousand photographs. The collection differs from the usual local history collecuon in its emphasis on the human rather than the topographical. Its definitive and unique feature is the visual documentation of the individual and communal life of the working people of Manchester and the North-West and the subject matter is mainly families, families which make up the overwhelming and, in most ways, historically by-passed proportion of the population of the region. Whilst being systematically indexed and gathered in files of contact-prints and corres­ ponding information-books at Manchester Studies, this collection is, in print form, being channelled into the appropriate local public collections. And we have come to realise that it is a collection which provokes just as many questions as it provides answers. We receive innumerable straightforward appeals for practical assistance, for example, ‘I’m a local librarian/ teacher/community worker intending to put on an exhibi­ tion comparing the community spirit in Salford now and fifty years ago; have you any photographs I might be able to use?’ - which we’re well equipped and glad to deal with. Apart from this, the one question that the existence, useful­ ness and ensured growth of the collection has answered is that of the cynic: ‘But why go around begging people to let you have their old photographs, photographs that they them­ selves have dismissed to lie in an old biscuit tin under the stairs? What’s the point, whom does it help? Photographs can’t tell me much, they can’t provide the information that a book, a scholarly work written by an expert, an historian trained in the appropriate methodologies, statistical approaches and objectivity can provide.’ Thankfully, judg­ ing by the service we are increasingly being called on to provide for writers of history, this sort of attitude is on the wane with the realization that photographs give, by the immediacy with which they communicate and by their universal accessibility an extra, legitimate, dimension to the subject. If you have any comments to make or articles, letters or prints you would like to contribute we would be glad to hear from you. Please make sure it reaches us as soon as possible. is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography and other forms o f communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photo­ graphy, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. SUBSCRIBE TO CAMERAWORK: A subscription to the magazine contributes TWICE as much to our income as a sale through a shop! ABROAD (surface) £7.50 £6.50 £6.00 £5.00 £13.00 £12.00 £5.50 £4.50 for our exhibitions * UK ABROAD (air) £10.50 £9.00 £17.00 £8.00 This issue o f Camerawork, November 1979, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half Moon Photography Workshop, 119 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. Printed by Expression Printers Ltd, London N l. Full subscription* Full subscription (student)* Institutional Subscription* C am eraw ork only T his includes posters and invitations People who worked on this issue of Camerawork were Santiago Castrillon, Mike Goldwater, Liz Mackie, Jenny Matthews, Richard Platt, Shirley Read (co-ordinator), Siddhiratna, Mike Swift. Distribution: Keith Cavanagh. To subscribe send remittance (abroad - STERLING DRAFT drawn on London please) to: H .M .P .W ., 119-121 Roman Road, L o n d o n E2 OQN. Tel: 01-980 8798. (ISSN 0308 1676) 9 CAMERAWORK But the sort of feeling that has been commonly voiced, and which manifests itself in a distilled, and doubtless school-induced form, is the initial reactions of many of the people to whom we go for photographs: ‘What? You don’t want to see me donkey-stoning the front-step, or setting off as an eight-year old on a Band of Hope picnic. You’d much rather see this one of the old King visiting Manchester.’ However, pictures of informal, communally organised festivals, like street parties to celebrate a coronation, tell a great deal about the neighbourhood life of past generations and can contain a wealth of detail. At the same time a snap of a renowned national figure can provide the same sort of detailed information. For instance, A.J. Balfour electioneering at Manchester City’s football ground is also interesting for what it shows of the composition, appearance and segregation of a 1900 football crowd, spectators in the standing enclosure being exhorted by posters to ‘Beware of Pickpockets’. But photographs of events and personalities, whether they be local or national, whether taken by someone in the crowd or a professional photographer, only tell half the story: the half that has always monopolised history and the attention of the historian. The reasons for a photograph of the King taking precedence, even today, over importance and interest invested in a family collection, and over a photograph of the children playing in the street, spring directly from the notion that history and documentation should be concerned with the oustanding and extraordinary. Simi­ larly, studio portraits are seen as being more publicly presentable than the comparative spon­ taneity of a group taken in the backyard; just as the formal, officially prescribed sort of record, the filled-out form, is considered more valuable than the bits of paper, (the shopping lists, bills, scribbled messages) - generated during the course of an ordinary ‘uneventful’ day. Traditionally, because public libraries and record offices saw their purpose as the accu­ mulation and storage of the documents detailing administrative and executive transactions, the range of documentation they held reflected a rather narrow spectrum of interest - the day to day functioning of public bodies, official organi­ zations, large business and commercial institu­ tions and so on. This was all very well if one was solely interested in the impersonal and distant goings-on of our civic representatives and indus­ trial concerns. But what if you wanted first­ hand evidence of life, of all sorts of life, in your own street or neighbourhood? What if you wanted to know how the residents felt about their physical environment and how it worked on them, and what if you wanted to know from the residents themselves, and not from the pen or camera or paintbrush or whatever of some peculiarly gifted, impartial, outside observer? What if you wanted to know, for instance, about the organisation and workings of the credit system in corner shops during the 1920’s? Or about the forms of illicit backstreet gambling that proliferated during the years of the Depres­ sion? What if you wanted evidence of the feelings and attitudes, as manifested in letters and diaries, of the people involved? And what if your curiosity could not be satisfied by written or printed evidence, but required visual sub­ stantiation, the sort of corroboration that only a photograph might be able to provide? The Manchester Studies Archive Rescue scheme was established, with the co-operation of local libraries and archivists, to combat the scant regard shown towards these documents: the documents produced and accumulated by working people during the routine course of their lives. Almost immediately it became apparent that, if a family had kept any records of its forebears, photographs would predominate. Perhaps the physical act of tearing or burning the image of a relative one remembers, or has heard talked fondly of, repulses some. Perhaps, if faced with the choice of discarding a bundle of documents and letters or a collection of photo­ graphs the former will go because its content cannot immediately satisfy passing curiosity. Whatever; though the photograph is far and away the domestic document that most regularly crops up and, though our efforts have subse­ quently taken a bias toward their rescue, we cannot afford to assume that families would stop throwing out old photographs - and the danger of complacency is consistently emphasized. An oft-repeated lament we hear runs along the lines of, ‘If I’d only known about your work six months ago then I’d have kept the suitcaseful we had; but we were moving house and they took up so much space . . .’ We are working against time. Though not exclusively, we tend to concentrate our efforts on retrieving material produced before World War II, simply because it is the records of those generations that are in immediate danger of loss or destruction. Similarly, the need for this sort of work assumes added urgency with the rapid h m Studio group, Blackpool w Bowlers on the green of the Spread Eagle Hotel, Turton Bottoms 1880’s/90’< change, or even complete disintegration, of longestablished neighbourhoods. It is in these circumstances, when the compulsory purchase orders have been served, and with change of family home and transfer of small business premises imminent and widespread, that many of the most evocative and informative of records are lost - particularly photograph albums and the hordes of glass-slides and negatives accu­ mulated by long-gone local photographers, which are only to be found left behind in cellars and sheds. Ironically, the destructive process of the property developer and local council provide the opportunity for what, so far, has proved to be one of the most successful methods of retrieving material. The residential area at the heart of Manchester’s Trafford Park industrial estate is now half-way demolished and will have vanished within two years. The area was once, simply because its location demanded it, a near selfsufficient community, a cluster of some seven hundred houses, built at the turn of the century as ‘model dwellings’, for the ‘hands’ at the nearby giant engineering and manufacturing works. The people there considered themselves to be from Trafford Park and Trafford Park alone, rather than from Manchester or Stretford or whatever boundaries officialdom constructed around them. They were isolated and their isolation gave them a fierce love for their homeplace. As a result of an extensive programme of doorto-door leafleting, appeals in the local press and talks to the Community Centre, Senior Citizens Club and the like, we managed to amass some seven hundred photographs, a variety of docu­ ments and thirty hours of tape-recorded personal reminiscence. Our work, the ‘profes­ sional’ interest of outsiders who previously knew little or nothing about Trafford Park, gave people the chance to talk frankly and spon­ taneously about their lives and their district and, furthermore, about their contribution to the development of their community. This exercise released a strong interest in the social, economic, political and religious forces at work on their parents’ generation and their own. As a result we put on an exhibition of the photographs and recollections because we felt it right to return to the people of Trafford Park collectively, what they had given independently of one another over a relatively long period of time. The exhibi­ tion was free, and in an easily accessible locabooked to show at thirteen venues - as opposed to the four we originally intended. This exhibition has also, as we expected, stimulated people to offer over two hundred further photographs. The Trafford Park exhibition is just one of several currently on show in the Greater Manchester area. In addition, exhibitions of local interest are currently on display in a hospital waiting room, school, a library and a shopping centre. There are, given a reasonable standard of con­ dition and content, the photographs that demand inclusion in any exhibition: the striking, the unique, the well-made. But exhibitions can never truly reflect the ‘average’ individual collec­ tion of photographs that make up each deposit. To generalize, if you talk about the ‘average family collection’, then what you might find is any number of family portraits, many taken in the studio, a few school photographs and others of organized groups and formal gatherings, and then one or two oddments, depending on the interests and vocations of the family. There are, obviously, exceptions: one lady, a keen and active member of her church’s Mothers’ Union, had masses of professionally photographed church events because she had volunteered to act as the local retailer for the photographer. Another man had over a hundred prints of work in progress, in 1901, on a particularly large industrial site; he had them because his wife’s great uncle had worked in the Clerk of Works’ Office on site and, being a good company man and enthusiastic photographer, had taken the photographs for his own pleasure and future reference. However, nearly all family collections contain something unexpected or unusual, whether it be an interior shot of a shop or factory or a candid snap on the beach at Blackpool. Whilst we want exhibitions to reflect the range of photographs we have, and they do, insofar as the pictures are always grouped thematically series on work, leisure, school, church, cele­ brations, holidays and so on - a proportional representation of the different sorts of photo­ graphs within the whole collection would, if not dull the exhibition, render it less likely to stimulate and provoke. This is not to belittle the bulk of the standard family collection. A series of family portraits provides a fascinating record of the oustanding moments that household experienced - a pictorial census of births, marriages and deaths. It also providesevidence of the internal squabbles (why Aunt and Uncle aren’t on this one at Granny’s wake when they’re on every previous one), evidence of who was 3 CAMERAWORK entrusted with the responsibility of taking the photograph, thus forfeiting their presence on the finished product, and evidence of more blatant expressions of the family image - its social standing and togetherness (as manifested in clothing, stance and location). Consequently we are not at all selective when offered photographs, all are copies and are indexed. We cannot fore­ tell, and we would not wish to determine, what others will find of interest. School photographs taken during the period from 1900 to the 1930’s may, for instance, looked at en masse and a first glance, appear to be nothing more than picture upon picture of what could well be the same carefully arranged rows of happy and conscientious scholars. But they bear witness not only to the specialisations of certain photographers, but also to certain trends within their craft. For instance: moves between outdoor and indoor shots, attempts to represent constructive and enjoyable classroom activity by the careful positioning on desks of the tools and materials of the schoolchild, and the short-lived vogue for elaborate physical compo­ sitions on May Day and school-play photo­ graphs. They also chronicle the changes in class­ room furniture, not least the demise of the once ubiquitous aspidistra. However, the school photograph, like the family photograph, can, if too heavily empha­ sized, deaden an exhibition with its uniform content and composition. Exceptionally, when an exhibition results from an area survey, as with Trafford Park, school photographs, in parti­ cular, can exert an attraction. Many people will recognize themselves, often in a photograph they haven’t seen for thirty, forty or fifty years, and it will act as an introduction, a way in, to the rest of the exhibits. The purpose and nature of exhibitions raises the question of selection, which in turn provokes the question of how far our work, or rather our presentation of the results of our work, can put a particular gloss on the past. For instance, the photographs can perhaps distort what actually happened, and we don’t know what’s going on, or has gone on, out of camera-shot. Our peculiar subjectivity also influences the sort of photo­ graphs we show and thus the reactions of the audience. The pictures we select for public con­ sumption might give substance to the perennial myths of'Those were the days; ah, happy times’, on the one hand, or ‘We’ve come a long way from tion and thus, hopefully, go some way towards remedying the imbalance in the source material historians rely on. Secondly (perhaps more importantly) to provide, especially through free, easily accessible public exhibitions of locallyretrieved material, a stimulus for the people of Manchester and the North West to actively realise the extent of their individual and collec­ tive contribution to the development of the region, and for them to continue the sort of work we have begun. In the long term the production of books containing photographs and remini­ scences will provide what, in many instances, will be the sole testimony to once thriving, now rapidly disappearing, small neighbourhoods. qj David Russell and the Manchester Studies team Dep * Bicycle Repair Shop, Todmorden, Yorks those dark times thank goodness’, on the other. However, our work is above all else a practical exercise in retrieval; our success or failure, in our own eyes especially, depends on the amount of photographs and other documents, that we get in and return to the community by passing them into the public collection. Having said that, constantly working with such a large and varied collection does give rise to particular, personal predilection. And these preferences are un­ doubtedly reflected in the exhibitions which are, after everything else, exercises in publicity - the only means we have of reaching, at first hand, a wide audience of potential donors. Whilst we do not see ourselves as interpreters or critics of the vast store of original material we have at our disposal, it is becoming increasingly apparent that work needs to be done on the whole method of operation of the local photo­ grapher. From the ornately designed advertise­ ments backing portraits, and from the minimum of information (‘Printed by . . . Sold by . . .’) carried by the photo-postcards, we can guess at Workers at the Russian Petrograd Boot Company, Trafford Park, Manchester during the First World War the number of studios, the number and type of retail outlets, the prosperity and the specialisms of individual photographers. We can tell that there were a number of intinerant photographers who, it would appear, humped their cameras up and down streets and photographed whomever was about to position themselves in mockinformal representations of casual street activity. We have been told, during the course of taperecorded interviews, that photographers turned up on spec at carnivals, Whit Walks and similar communal events, took so many photographs, and then used local people as their retailing agents. Interviewees have also talked about photography clubs in their place of work - you paid so much per week, and then waited for your turn to take the annual late Friday afternoon trip to the studio. Given the time and the opportunity, we will turn to this sort of work which will enhance the usefulness and give more sense to the collection. As things now stand we see our purpose as being twofold. Firstly, to augment the public collec­ Manchester Studies is an oral history and archive rescue project started in 1974/5 and based at Manchester Polytechnic. It is one oj the main centres in this country to use oral history as a tool oj historical research and a method oj recovering the past oj those sections of our society whose history has been largely ignored. As well as the work described above Manchester Studies runs projects which include the following: The Cotton Industry Records Project which in an effort to preserve a record of life among the Lanca­ shire mill workers has interviewed and sought out photographs and documents from elderly workers. This project has produced a teaching pack for schools. The Jewish History Project has located over 1,000 photographs recording the migration from Eastern Europen in the late nineteenth century and the life of Jewish immigrants in Manchester. A record of the Black community in Manchester is being built up with the help of the Manchester Black Women’s Co-operative. The Film Archive (funded by Granada TV, North West Arts and Greater Manchester Council) is working to establish a home for regional archive film and a base for the study of the history offilm making and thefilm industry in the North West. A t present Manchester Studies Unit employs thirty researchers but when its Manpower Services Commission grant ends in December 1979 the staff will be severely cut back and the whole project threatened unless alternative funding can be found. CAMERAWORK “ 124 : MICRBftlUa'' ' ' Ml'HTLfcHtt .... .... UHFUHIEII THEIR .. uic IB5I STR0R6H0L0- T°M V 1 SOBOZH'5 EI8 HUNDREDS BCS05S * c „c rUFRRILLftS W W CH ED TO +El BUNKER THt CRP1TBI*. HUNDREDS OF GUERR1LL«^ , » » > ™ ‘ , T “ ,TH0UT ,E S ,5 1 M * ’ M . , HEEE TEE» » « 8 ' 8LS " T ,HE T E h b rc h h h s H H 18 s5 THEV ENTERED UE„ I 0 HIS RRIVHTE » * » NT LflV ....... * « " « - 1"15’ FLR0 8EH1ND 1HE" »E 5 lK K IT H T O O T H PA S T E The raw material of a news story comes as copy over the teleprinter and pictures arrive over the wire or via a press agency. The function of the newspaper is to take this raw material, fashion it, refine it and reduce it to a finished product that goes on sale. Long before the pictures reach the newspaper and are selected and manipulated to fit the news story, however, the photographer is aware of having to work within a whole series of constraints to sell the pictures and work accordingly. Originally we intended to run a picture story on Nicaragua and contacted Alon Reininger, a photo­ grapher working for a N ew York photo agency. Contact. The picture editor chose w hat he thought the London agency should have, and we selected from there. We soon found that where­ as a documentary photographer would be expected to produce photographs that reinforced each other so that the culminative effect was an ‘insight’ into Nicaragua at a particular period in its history, the work of a news photo­ grapher is very different. Here the emphasis is on providing one selfcontained, simple, direct picture. We therefore decided to use the photo­ graphs as a basis for commenting on the production and use of news photo­ graphs. We have also recontextualised them with information on the recent events in Nicaragua to counteract the fragmented view provided by the daily press. NICARAGUA News photographers are constrained by the politics of the newspapers or magazines that use their work and the ideology that these papers serve and propagate. For the bourgeois press news consists largely of shock, horror and drama. The newspaper acts as a spotlight on the world’s disasters, moving on as the spectacle subsides. Until hit by an earthquake in 1972, Nicaragua | was virtually unheard of. As a news story the revolution was around for nearly two years, but only achieved any prominence when the Sandinistas showed signs of success. Since July 20th, when Somoza fled, Nicaragua has received scant news coverage in the major daily papers whilst the left press has moved on to the next stage in the revolutionary scenario - Nicaragua Reconstructs. “DO N’T GET INVOLVED” Regardless of personal politics and commit­ ment, a news photographer working outside the tew left-wing agencies has to adopt the neutral standpoint of his or her agency. An International Press Card is a passport to all sorts of situations where the photographer’s role is that of an observer, detached from events, recording rather than interpreting. This distancing is most clear in the way a news photographer tries to cover both sides ot a war as long as personal safety is not at risk. No one else is able to take up such an ambivalent position. The role of news photos is not to inform but rather confirm ideology - to reproduce a view ot the world that the reader will recognise, to prove what’s happening and what stance the reader should take towards it. Nevertheless the photos themselves are often ambiguous, and it is the captioning that determines the way that they are interpreted. Since news photographs are seen as evidence of an event and thus the ‘truth’, captioning tends to be read as fact rather than a particular point of view. News photographers have to corroborate the news story and provide an objective record of what the reporter is saying. No one believed that Che Guevara was dead until a picture of him in his coffin was published. Nicaragua equals war, and so the media need pictures of soldiers, guerrillas and damage. The camera is also capable of faking evidence though, and the participants in any struggle are obviously aware of the power of the media, and will use it to further their cause. It is almost possible to imagine a battle being refought because the cameras were not in the right place. Such performance for the camera reached an obscene level in Vietnam:"You don t know what a media freak is until you’ve seen the way a few of One of the great dangers of news coverage is an identification of the event with the location. How many people have a mental picture of Northern Ireland comprised of soldiers, hooded men and burning 1978 January - Assassination of Pedro Joaquin Chamorro, editor of the opposition La Prensa and leader of UDEL, results in two week general strike called by business community. February - Indian slum of Monimbo in Masaya rises up in first popular insurrection against Somoza. May - Broad Opposition Front (FAO) formed. July - Members of Los Doce return openly to “WE WANTED IT YESTERDAY” The fact that news has to be as instantaneous as possible influences the way a photographer works, trying to produce a product which will be saleable to a particular audience at a particular time. Since Vietnam brought war into the sitting room, photographers have been competing with electronic news gathering equipment. In order to use the picture on time the news photographer on foreign assignment often has to completely relinquish control after framing, focusing and pressing the button, letting an agency develop, print and select pictures. Again, time prevents the photographer con­ tacting all the newspaper and magazines with syndication rights from that agency to find out how the photos will be used, and often never even sees them in print. Even a photographer wiring his own pictures to a newspaper will have no control over how “KEEP IT SIMPLE” The demand is for simple, direct and easily read photos which will catch the reader’s attention, for newspapers will rarely use more than one photo of an event that day, and it will often be cropped for the page layout and downgraded during printing. War images thus tend to fall into a limited range of readily understandable categories - conflict, joy, grief, uniforms, suffering, death, children and physical destruction. From the newspaper’s point of view the more visually stunning a picture is the better, but Nicaragua is an example of a conflict that did not produce the sort of iconic images that people remember from Vietnam. Fortunately events are not always that spectacular, but it is the job of the photographer at best to make the news exciting. If that is not possible straightforward visual information is good enough, so for weeks the news coverage of Nicaragua alternated between pictures of guerillas and pictures of soldiers. If a news event is featured daily over a considerable period of time, it becomes a problem to find a new twist and original pictures. The Pope’s visit to Ireland gave photographers a new opportunity there, just as Bianca Jagger became a new angle for those covering Nicaragua - even the Guardian saw fit to print her picture before that of the new government on July 20th. “IF IT ’S IN THE PAPER IT MUST BE TRUE” Residents coming out of hiding after the battle in which the National Guard retook the town of Masaya from the Sandinista forces. CHRONOLOGY those grunts would run around during a fight when they knew that there was a television crew nearby; they were actually making war movies in their heads, doing little guts-and-glory leatherneck tap dances underfire, getting their pimples shot off for the networks . . . We’d all seen too many movies, stayed too long in Television City, years of media glut had made certain connections difficult.’ (Michael Herr, Dispatches) they are used. Photographers caption their photos but newspapers, again using speed as an excuse, insist on having final rights over them, using them the way they want. Nicaragua. August - Sandinistas storm National Palace taking over 1,000 hostages including members of government: Somoza accedes to demands for ransom and release of political prisoners. FAO launches general strike. Popular uprising in Matagalp. September FSLN launches attacks, supported by popular insurrection, in Chinandega, Masaya, Esteli, Leon and Diriamba. All towns retaken by National Guard On a slope near Lake Managua, where several bodies were discovered, Nicaraguans search for family. There were reports that the bodies were of young men shot by the Guardia. Latin American papers are generally sensationalist and display a constant barrage of corpses. Recently the taboo on publishing pictures of dead bodies in the British Press appears to have been lifted. The pictures are nearly always of foreign situations, the distancing adds a layer of unreality and enables the picture to be read more in terms of formal composition and less in terms of emotional response. A family reunited with a released political prisoner outside Managua's Central Police Station on the day of Somoza’s departure from Nicaragua. vehicles? These are not pictures of Nicaragua as a social and political entity, but they are likely to be identified as such. after indiscriminate aerial bombardment. Thousands of civilians fleeing from National Guard atrocities seek refuge in Honduras and Costa Rica. Death toll estimated at over 5,000. October - Organisation of American States (OAS) sends international team to mediate between FAO and Somoza. November — IMF loan to Nicaragua refused because of US objections. Members of FAO, including Los Doce, walk out of mediation talks. Costa Rica breaks diplomatic relations with Nicaragua. OAS Human Rights Commission publishes report strongly condemning Somoza regime. 1979 January - National Patriotic Front (FPN) formed following failure of mediation talks. March - FSLN announces unification of their three factions under joint command. April - FSLN launches major offensive in north ot country temporarily occupying Esteli. May - Leaders of FAO and FPN detained. CAMERAWORK AFTER THE NEWS . . . Once the dramatic news is over the market for pictures will be very different. Special interest journals and magazines will have more space, higher quality reproduction and longer dead­ lines. However, unless they despatched a photo­ grapher at the time of the event they will still be relying on the same agencies, and therefore the same photographers, for pictures. Because of the constraints with which s/he was originally working, the news photographer is unlikely to have produced an in-depth photo story. If such a story did exist then the outlets for it, in Britain at least, are extremely limited - colour magazines wedged between consumer overkill. Susan Meiselas’ powerful colour pictures of Nicaragua ended up immaculately printed between the soft-porn covers of Photo magazine, a position infinitely worse than fuzzy newsprint fated to wrap up chips. New’s photographers are in a powerful position, they see what the media dilute and distort. They are, however, cut off from the power to control their pictures by a division of labour brought about by the cut and thrust newspaper world, which demands today’s pictures today. It would be useful for the rest of us if they had the commitment, over and above their job, to find alternative ways of producing and using the ‘rest’ of the news. Jenny Matthews Sandinistas point American M-16 and Israeli Galil automatic weapons at a poster of Anastasio Somoza Garcia. FSLN commando members and supporters celebrating their victory in the streets of Managua. Two reference pictures to remind us o f who's who. The picture of the guerrillas, although posed in ‘good fa ith ’ by the subjects to express the jubilation of victory, could be interpreted by the right as the chaos o f young upstart extremists. The two photos reveal the youth o f both sides, although neither picture can by itself set such youth in the context of Latin American society where children and young people are an essential economic force. G iven all the forces influencing the production of news pictures, the staged picture can be very valuable - viz. Bert H ardy's photo o f a soldier offering a dying comrade a drink, a photo only possible because H ardy asked the soldier to do it, and had to give him his canteen. The moment is false but the photographer would argue that it refers to other moments that did exist when a photographer w asn't around. The mock bayoneting o f Somoza is not such a good example o f a created incident because it brings up the problem o f the photographer as theatrical agent, stagemanaging events, and the viewer might well become suspicious of the ‘truth’ of other photos. AFTER SOMOZA: SOCIALISM OR REFORM? All wars come to an end. All too often, this also means the end of press coverage. As long as there was military conflict between Somoza and the Nicaraguan people, the international press was content to turn its eyes towards a previously neglected country. But since July 19, no attempt has been made to understand the implications of the FSLN victory. Once again, Nicaragua is not considered ‘newsworthy’. Violent death may remain useable - the British press covered the poisoning of Sandinista guards by counter-revolutionaries and an explo­ sion in Chinandega killing thirteen people w'hile broader political developments are dis­ missed by editors despite the flow of material from their correspondents and the agencies. Even during the war, a BBC story about Somoza’s imminent resignation was omitted in favour of a long interview about the quality of food in the British Club in El Salvador after the withdrawal of Britain’s ambassador. The Sandinista victory in itself guaranteed no more than an end to dictatorship, and it is clear to anyone visiting Nicaragua since July that many conflicting forces are shaping the ideo­ logical definition of the revolution. Of all the media caricatures which emerged from the Nica­ raguan war, none was more misleading than the conventional portrayal of Somoza as psycho­ path. To describe him as cruel, greedy and corrupt is certainly true as far as it goes, but it misses the point. With overthrow a certainty, Somoza cold-bloodedly set about levelling Nicaragua’s major cities and pillaging the remnants of the national economy. The results u'ere clear: to impose the need for national unity in reconstructing the country, allowing the FSLN minimum room for manoeuvre and obscuring the class nature of the struggle. The composition of the Government of National Reconstruction was certainly a master­ piece of diplomacy by the FSLN, but within a ► Guardia soldiers patrolling the city after recapturing it from the Sandinistas. All Photographs by Alon Reininger/Colorific IMF agrees US $66m. loan to Somoza govern­ ment. FSLN launches all-out ‘final offensive’ taking Jinotega in the north and entering country from Costa Rica. June - General strike called by FSLN. Heavy fighting throughout country. Sandinistas take Chinandega, Matagalpa and Leon. Esteli falls. Opposition sets up provisional Government of National Reconstruction. Ecuador, Mexico, Peru, Brazil and Panama break diplomatic rela­ tions with Nicaragua. Special OAS meeting passes resolution calling for Somoza’s resigna­ tion. Battle for Managua ends in FSLN withdrawal following heavy bombing. Civilian refugees put at over 150,000, hundreds dead. By the end of June Sandinistas hold over 20 cities including Diriamba and Masaya. Intense diplo­ matic activity by US. July - Sandinistas take Jinotepe. Battle for Rivas continues. National Guard counter­ offensive against Masaya halted. US continues efforts to find political solution. FSLN have iManagua encircled but hold back final assault. Somoza fails in attempt to enlist military support of fellow Central American dictators. Foreign ministers from Andean Pact countries meet pro­ visional government. Provisional government names cabinet. 100 senior National Guard officers removed from active service. Somoza resigns on 17th July and flies to Miami, naming leader of Congress, Francisco Urcuyo, as interim President. Fighting flares up again when Urcuyo refuses to hand over power to provisional government. Members of provisional govern­ ment fly into Leon from Costa Rica. National Guard in disarray; many surrender; fleeing deserters hijack Red Cross plane. Urcuyo flees country’ after only 48 hours as President. Sandinistas enter Managua. Provisional government members arrive in Managua on 20th July to tumultuous welcome. from Nicaragua, Dictatorship and Revolution, available from PO Box 134, London NW1. 75p CAMERAWORK -----------------------very restricted range of options. The economy had to be regenerated and thousands rescued from starvation and this meant the appoint­ ment of experienced ministers to create that familiar ‘climate of confidence’ which attracts massive foreign aid, while in no way being sympathetic to the socialist transformation of Nicaragua. While some key political appoint­ ments have gone to Sandinista leaders (Tomas Borge as Interior Minister, Jaime Wheelock in charge of Agrarian Reform), the economy is handled by technocrats, capitalists and social democrats from the old anti-Somoza private sector. This uneasy marriage of interests is reflected in the five-person Junta, where the Social Democrat Sergio Ramirez holds the pre­ carious ‘moderate’ role between two FSLN/MPU militants and two representatives of conservative business interests. The under­ standable chaos of the first few weeks has given way to a new and more disturbing administra­ tive paralysis: who makes the decisions in the new Nicaragua? The FSLN nine-man direc­ torate or government ministers? Meanwhile, the massive concentration of capital in the hands of Somoza, and the dominant state sector created by the expropriation of 51% of all cultivatable land and 180 industrial enterprises is often cited as a strong basis for socialist change. But the contradiction is that anti-Somoza landowners and businessmen can sleep easy in the knowledge that the state has neither the imme­ diate wish nor the administrative capacity to attack their economic power. The ‘loss’ of Nicaragua was a major humilia­ tion for the consistently inept policies of the USA, but it will take more than the overthrow of Somoza to frustrate American geopolitical ambi­ tions in their own traditional backyard. The comical sabre-rattling of the mock invasion of Guantanamo and the creation of a Caribbean ‘task-force’ are one facet of a new regional strategy. The other is shown by US support for the overthrow of General Romero in El Salvador. Whether or not the States directly engineered the coup, they are delighted by the prospect of further popular discontent in the area being con­ tained by the new Salvadorean colonels, who will avoid the worst excesses of a Romero or a Somoza while doing little to alter fundamental power structures. As for tampering with the internal affairs of Nicaragua, this may now be done more plausibly through the amenable democracies of Central America and the Andean Pact. This analysis is very much concerned with superstructural politics, but the visitor has only to step out of the Hotel Intercontinental in Managua, now the seat of government, to realise that the Nicaraguan people, armed and organised, hold the real key to the country’s future. Slogans are everywhere: ‘Organisation and more organisation’; ‘Power to the workers and the peasants’; ‘The people armed are the guarantee of the revolution’. These phrases are not arbitrarily imposed from above. They express a principle which has been shown to work in practice, and the five organs which provide Sandinista strength locally - the Trade Union Central; the Association of Nicaraguan Women; the Sandinista Youth; the Defence Committes; and the Association of Rural Workers - also give the basis for popular power. Even if the people do not yet use overtly Marxist vocabulary, their political maturity and strength of organisation are the firmest guarantee of a socialist future in Nicaragua. George Black A family mourning a dead Sandinista fighter in Chinandega Hospital. George B lack is a member o f the Nicaragua Co-ordinating Committee and can be contacted at 20/21 Compton Terrace, London N l l( h- I ' r« ft of) iJ j c Y f 4T b r Guardia soldiers in a makeshift brothel in Masaya. Victorious Sandinista, Managua ‘W oman fighter' has become a powerful image for the left and a useful variation on the theme o f soldier/guerilla fo r the press in general. A whole media fantasy has emerged around the female revolutionary. , Unforlunalely the sorts of photographs that a newspaper photographer is pressured to take end up perpetuating a stereotyped view o f a particular country or area. Nicaragua has been no exception. Brothel pictures are acceptable as long as they are Third World women, right at the bottom o f the exploitation ladder. Since the late 1960's the Revolutionary has been an acceptable media figure, again as long as it’s suitably distanced by being m Latin America (i.e. fa r away). I t ’s a romantic image, not quite the terrorism the press fears on its own doorstep. FSLN guerilla takes a bath in Somoza's bathtub in his 'bunker' headquarters. CAMERAWORK / ------------------------ apan is a country of extremes; it is a society of many contradictions. As often as a characteristic peculiar to Japan or possessing a quality we might call ‘Japanese’ is defined, that definition is contradicted or denied. The land of harmonious aesthetic, refined sensibility and sympathy with the natural elements and seasonal cycles, is also the land of devastation, photo-chemical smog and mercury poisoning - with a history of unprecedented destruction of the environment. There is a tension between the survival of the traditional life and a futurist explosion. Colossal forces have accelerated the develop­ ment of Japan during the Sixties, and as we enter the Eighties in Western Europe, we are alarm­ ingly ignorant of Japan. Western commentators, such as Herman Kahn, a futurologist at the Hudson Institution,1 have suggested that by the end of the 1980’s Japan will have entered a ‘post­ industrial stage’. Its role as a financial superpower will give it super political or military pow'er, and the focus of international affairs will shift from the Atlantic to the Pacific. The post-war Japanese development offers not only an economic challenge to the West, but a great challenge to the Japanese people. The Japanese identity has become confused. There is very clear evidence that the Seventies was a decade in which many Japanese expressed a desire to reassert elements of traditional life, questioning the benefits of the ‘economic miracle’. There is also a post-war generation not yet born when the Emperor was divine for which Japanese tradition is a myth. This gener­ ation grew up under American occupation, and have lived in the densest urban environments. Japan is a volatile society caught by the tensions of identity crisis and direction. From time to time the tension explodes with great fero­ city, such as the student riots of the late Sixties, the seige of Tokyo University in 1968 and 1969 by the Zengakuren, and the continued struggle on the runways of Narita Airport. It is hard to reconcile that image of Japan in conflict, with the image of Japan as the centre of Zen Buddhism where sportsmen, politicians and film stars do zazen meditation before important occasions, where the temple continues to be a great social institution, not a museum. Like the traditional spontaneity of sumi-e brush and ink painting, photography has imme­ diacy, a quality most attractive to Japanese sensi­ bility. Photography in Japan has. become a medium which can suggest the tensions, contra­ dictions, serenity and violence of a nation subject to transition on an enormous scale. In the mid-Seventies the Japanese have been producing about 5 million 35mm cameras per year. In such a competitive society, the photo­ grapher can achieve superstar status quite beyond that of photographers who might be household names in Britain. Kishin Shinoyema, the most popular of the younger generation of photographers, appears not only on TV commercials and in the columns of the fan maga­ zines, but also on fifty foot high advertising hoardings in the centre of Tokyo. As a weapon in a high-powered marketing campaign, the photo­ grapher can receive high rewards under the generous sponsorship of the manufacturers. Despite initial superstitions and taboos about the medium, photography is now in the main­ stream of Japanese culture; in typical fashion it both confirms and denies a traditional aesthetic. At times it appears imitative of Western trends, and at times it is foreign and bizarre. It was not until 1974 that the first major exhibition of Japanese photography was held in the West, at the Museum of Modem Art in New York. Then in 1977 the ‘Neue Fotographie aus Japan’ show was held in Graz. This August, at last, a Japanese show reached London. It was shown at the Institute of Contemporary Art under the sponsorship of Canon cameras. Although the recent exhibition was called ‘Japanese Photography Today and its Origins’, suggesting a broad historical context, it actually revealed very little about Japan. Much deeper analysis and presentation was missing and it is needed to penetrate the glaring contradictions in Japanese society. O f all the photographers in the Canon Exhibition, Eikoh Hosoe is probably the most significant. Through an enormous body of work he has produced images that touch the core of the Japanese tradition. However, he does not operate like an archaeologist exploring the remains of a past culture. He uses the streets of urban Japan in the same way that he uses the rice fields. Two of his important series have a specific historical setting, but they are also timeless. He is confirming the vitality of the tradition. A figure crouches high on the tall wooden fence, on which the rice straw is hung to dry. He stares across the plain, brooding and, we are told by the photographer, Eikoh Hosoe, he is pos­ sessed by the spirit of Kamaitachi. This key image w'as selected by the ICA to be blown up J and hung at the entrance to the exhibition. It is part of a long sequence of nearly forty photo­ graphs by Hosoe that are mythical, rooted in tradition and highly pertinent to contemporary Japan. Hosoe has said, ‘the images of this story do not need much commentary: I would like the specta­ tors to use their own imagination.’ Nonetheless the background to these pictures is of enormous significance. Although the series is now ten years old, the photographs are a sequence set in Hosoe’s memory of 1944, and as such, they form the most explicit starting point to modern Japanese photography. Hosoe uses the language and metaphor of dream, myth and dance to explore the fertile folk imagination of village life, adolescent sexual awareness and the confronta­ graphs. Hosoe has followed Kamaitachi with another long and as yet unfinished series called Simon: A Private Landscape. It follows in close chrono­ logical succession since it is based on the days shortly after the surrender in 1945. Thirty years later another model as a ‘catalyst’, he has set the series against the landscape around Tokyo, through which he wandered as an adolescent. Simon has a long, angular body. His face is made up. He wears a woman’s kimono. His mask is that of a pierrot who mourns amongst the market stalls, lies spreadeagled in the grass on the outskirts of the city like a broken doll, smiles like some Myshkin figure amongst the children, dances around the fortune teller’s tent and howls on the streetcorner. Hosoe has said that the tion of this physical, exuberant life with the life of the streets of modern, urban Japan. Signifi­ cantly, the ICA show begins and ends with Hosoe. In 1944 American bombers fire-bombed every city in Japan except for Kyoto. The old capital was mercifully preserved because of its cultural heritage. In a single night raid on Tokyo more bombs were dropped than in the entire London blitz. Nearly all wooden buildings - urban Japan - was in ashes. Hosoe was then twelve years old and was evacuated to the country village where his mother had been brought up. The farmers’ children thought the city kids different; they were pale and emaciated from lack of food. Hosoe’s wartime adolescence was spent in comparative solitude as an outsider and spectator amongst the robust farming families. It was then that he learned the story of Kamaitachi. ‘ Kamaitachi is an invisible weasel with very sharp teeth like a sickle. But nobody has ever seen him. Nobody knows when or where he appears. Only that he attacks men in the fields. I had a complex feeling however, that I should never hate the land where my mother was born and raised and if I hated it I would hate my own mother.’2 Hosoe’s explanation of Kamaitachi is almost a premonition of the terrible, unknown weapon that would strike the following year at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Then all Japanese values were turned inside out. Patriotism and love of the Emperor had been taken to incon­ ceivable limits during 1944 and 1945. The conflict was between love of the mother country and the divine Emperor and the knowledge of the fact that Japan could not win the war; surrender was unprecedented, and the traditional ethical course would be mass suicide. An adolescent imagination might well conjure demons at such a time. The photographic manufacturing boom enabling Japan to be a great exporter of cameras has also flooded the domestic market with camera equipment. This is also the case with electrical goods. The Japanese urban home, though modest by Western standards due to lack of space and a sympathy for uncluttered sim­ plicity, often has more than one colour television and an assortment of electrical equipment and cameras. Hosoe has used a dancer, Tatsumi Jijitaka, to portray the figures possessed by Kamaitachi. Hosoe has managed to create a vision from memory; it is the realisation of a personal image carried in his imagination for twenty-five years, despite any historical interpretation. The idea of a narrative series is common in Japan, since photographers are often working in book form on a specific theme, rather than for exposure in an exhibition. Despite the recogni­ tion of photography as mainstream culture, ironically, there are relatively few Japanese museums or galleries that are exhibiting photo­ model Simon will eventually vanish and the final Mishima defined the coexistence of the savage half of the series will be empty landscapes. and the lyrical in Japanese photography. There are desolate images. They coincide with Recognising the power of Mishima’s state­ an almost indescribable desolation of that ments, it is still difficult to accept that at the end period, 1945 the critical date. It is the beginning of the Seventies the traditional Japan, for which of a new Japan; not only is photography radically Mishima died, can ever reemerge as anything different before and after 1945, but for many other than an anachronism. In the historical Japanese, 1945 must have seemed like the end of section of the Canon show, the samurai are por­ the world. When the Emperor addressed the trayed with a sad dignity in the 1860’s, less than nation for the first time on radio on August 15, ten years after Commodore Perry’s famous 1945, following the second atomic explosion at intrusion in the ‘Black Ships’ in 1853. These Nagasaki, he broadcast that, ‘to preserve the pictures are the last visual testimony to a vanish­ tradition of the Yamato race, the people had to ing age, comparable to Curtis’ work amongst the endure the unendurable and suffer what is American Indians. unsufferable’. A defeated army prowled the Since the pre-war period is diplomatically ruins of the capital, many committed suicide, safe, the exhibition included pictures such as and an alien army entered and bartered trinkets. ‘The Hanging of the Korean Revolutionaries’ in In the wake of defeat and the collapse of the 1919, and pictures of prisoners in the Sinonationalist ideal came the purges, the trials, and Japanese war in 1938, in which Japanese troops the dismantling of state Shinto. Not only were committed appalling atrocities. industry and the economy shattered, but the There have been a number of fine Japanese myth of an inviolable history was also shattered. war photographers since 1945, several of whom The Canon show most diplomatically avoids died in Vietnam. Two Vietnam pictures were the period. One wonders if this period was docu­ included in the exhibition, one by the Pulitzer mented by the military or if the trauma of the prize winner Kyoichi Sawada. Japan was a spec­ surrender and the occupation was too devastat­ tator in the Vietnamese conflict. However, there ing to record. There is only one photograph of are many conflicts within Japan, which have the occupation; it is from five years later, 1950. been consistently recorded by Japanese docu­ A large sign hangs from the high wire fence of an mentary photographers, such as: Hamaguchi’s American zone in Hbiya, the centre of Tokyo. In work at Narita; Tomatsu’s work on the streets of great letters and small Japanese characters it Shinjuku in 1969 or in Okinawa where the proclaims ‘Dead End’. Hosoe has entered the American presence had been the scene of violent period through a private landscape thirty years controversy. Neither photographer had work later. exhibited in this show, though Tomatsu is the he Canon catalogue carefully states most celebrated photographer in Japan. ‘. . . with an Emperor forced offi­ Hamaguchi’s work will soon be shown at the cially to deny his divine preroga­ Half Moon Photography Workshop. tives, Japan saw a New Constitution The arrival of the first Leica in the Thirties proclaimed, education reformed enabled realist documentary work, recording and land reforms initiated in a transformation the conflict of the pre-war years, and the that was to be termed “Americanisation” . Thus suppression of the unions in the wave of nation­ reformed under Allied control and fitted into an alism that accompanied the expansionist foreign American-orientated economic system, Japan policy. A Marxist photo cooperative was estab­ was able from the early fifties on, after American lished by Kimura, and produced work in sharp occupation ended in 1952, to set about its own contrast to the imitative and fashionably cubist economic reconstruction, which was to blossom or constructivist work of Nakayama and his forth in the sixties.’3 The Sixties were indeed a colleagues. boom period for Japan, economically and crea­ The post-war period represented by this tively, but within the pattern of sweeping exhibition is clearly divided into two genera­ Americanisation, were the seeds of a crisis of tions: a generation whose references are deep in identity which has been clearly demonstrated by Japanese tradition, or are seeking to discover the Seventies. and reassert those references, and a new, In 1971 Japan was stunned by the public younger generation whose work has no sense of seppuku (hara kiri) of the most celebrated specific location. Shoji Ueda, now in his late Japanese writer, Yukio Mishima. His death is sixties, has mixed the surreal with the Japanese well documented, but its significance as a logical sense of space, which marks traditional design. conclusion to his cycle of four novels, The Sea of He photographs in a country which is claustro­ Fertility, is still not understood. Minutes before phobic due to the density of its population and he died, in his speech to the assembled troops of the intensive cultivation and habitation of its the Ground Self Defense Force at their H.Q. in non-mountainous areas. Tsuchida, Ikko Tokyo, Mishima accused them of being ‘drunk Narahara and Shinoyama, though much with prosperity’. younger, have produced work which explores Mishima epitomised the conflict of the time. Japanese roots. In his series Zokushin: The He was a complex and seemingly contradictory Race of Gods on Earth, Tsuchida has followed personality. He was obsessed with the classical the Shinto spirit, with its origins in prehistory. T Western cult of the body, very familiar with European prose, and lived in rococo, baroque surroundings. But at the same time, he vigorously practised the traditional samurai code and took the discipline to its extreme conclusion. Public response to his suicide was one of dismissal, and accusations of posturing and fanaticism, although Kawabata, the Nobel Prize winner, said that Japan has a writer of Mishima’s calibre only once every five hundred years. The Japanese were embarrassed; Mishima reminded them of truths which had been neatly obscured under the canopy of Americanisation. Hosoe used Mishima for an extraordinary series of photographs, Ordeal by Roses. These were originally taken in 1963 and republished in 1971, the year of Mishima’s death. Hosoe and Shinoyama’s early work on tattoos was also exhibited. It is a link with Ukiyo-o, the Floating World of Edo; tattoo designs are based on this. His enormous work, The Japanese House, was exhibited at the Venice Biennale in 1976. He also produced great portraiture work of Kabuki actors and a series on Mishima, two weeks before the writer’s death. His diversity is staggering and accounts for some of his great commercial success. n the greatest manufacturing/consumer society in the world, one would expect advertising to be slick. Bishin Jummonji, a former assistant of Shinoyama, has pro­ duced commercial colour work for Hitachi that is both bizarre and hilarious - a series of frozen moments in which the models are literally caught in mid-air. The social and cultural alienation of the younger photographers in Tokyo or Osaka is common to the frustrations expressed in London, New York and the cities of the West. Ayako Senda, has focused on the desolation of broken televisions, rusting cars and trampled toys on the vast refuse dump in Tokyo Bay. Kiyotaka Takauchi says, ‘The system; a monster . . . drags people into the endless gulf, like an avalanche. We live in an enormous hyper­ modern town and we live a prefabricated life. Food in tins, walks in tins, little tins of houses. Our culture is tinned culture. To all appearances I am a sane man, but my mind is sick.’3 Maybe he will find a cure, if, like Hosoe, he turns to the roots of his culture, before it vanishes altogether. The very title of the Canon show, Japanese Photography Today and its Origins, suggests that we should have a broad perspective on modern Japan, and the forces at work in that society. In fact the spectators will probably leave that exhibition with an image of the country that is more confused than when they entered. It is not enough to place a hundred photographs, taken over a period of more than a hundred years, side by side in a small room and claim that it describes the origin of photography in a country as complex as Japan. The show is an attempt to define Japanese photography, as if it started at point A with the first cameras and moved through a logical development to point B, where there is the dubious title, ‘Eight Masters of the Twentieth Century’. These photographs need explicit translation and context. What is so significant about this exhibition is that it tells you so little about Japan. The absence of the work of documentary photographers such as Tomatsu is curious; Tomatsu and Hamaguchi’s statements are very explicit. There is also an absence of the older generation of post-war photographers such as Ishimoto, Iwamiya or the non-documentary work of Ken Domon. They have a very clear aesthetic. They have produced landscape work, framed in such a way that it is definable as ‘Japanese’, with clear links with the Japanese visual tradition. The exhibition almost ignored any post-war landscape work. These conspi­ cuous absences are perhaps understandable when you realise that many photographers are receiving sponsorship from Nikon or Pentax, and cannot be exhibited in the Canon show for •contractual reasons. Prejudices and misconceptions about Japan survive in the West from the pre-war and war­ time years. The Japanese are anxious to project a new image if they are going to establish stronger commercial ties with Western Europe. The Japanese economy, though strong, is still very vulnerable. In any relationship between the West and Japan, there are certain taboos over the events of 1945. Much of post-war Japanese history is about the loss of a traditional identity and reaction against the terms of the surrender and American Occupation of 1945. If those areas are to be explored in the interests of diplomacy, then the context of both Hosoe’s work and that of the younger generation will be lost. The pre-war nationalist, militarist image of Japan in the West has been replaced by a post­ war image of an expansionist, economic monster. The Japanese are anxious to rectify this. However, the Canon show serves to exagge­ rate those elements of Japan which remain alien and bizarre to the Western spectator, the spec­ tator who leaves the exhibition no clearer as to what lies behind the mask and what is the real Japan. I Mark Holborn References: (1) Herman Kahn, The Eme
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      • archiveFour Corners Bishopsgate
      • vimeo_link
      • authorSee sections X to AC
      • author_editorMike Goldwater, Greg Kahn (co-ordinator), Jenny Matthews, Richard Platt, Shirley Read (co-ordinator), Terry Smith, Ed Barber, Emma Diamond, Nicky Hughes, Liz Kessler, Liz Mackie, Marguerite McLaughlin, Nick Oakes, Jill Pack, Siddhiratna
      • author_writerRosetta Brooks, Terry Smith, Ken Worpole, Peter Kennard, Mike Abrahams, Peter Kennard, Richard Platt, Adrian Barr-Smith
      • author_photographerGuy Bourdin, G.M. Cookson, Pete Smith, John Sturrock, Deborah Turbeville, Mike Abrahams, Peter Marlow, Chris Steele-Perkins, Peter Kennard, Helmut Newton, Richard Greenhill
      • author_designer
      • author_interviewee
      • author_organisationNational Museum of Labour History, Manchester Studies Archive
      • tagsfashion,representations of women,advertising,fashion industry,commercial photography,stereotypes,cliches,mechanical reproduction,media representation,vogue,helmut newton,guy bourdin,deborah turbeville,male gaze,female gaze,blair peach,police,police brutality,inquest,friends of blair peach committee,who killed blair peach? police racism,racial tension,anti-racism,demonstation,protest,activism,community,conservative,economic policy,photography/politics of photography,match-girls,labour history,strike,1880,depression,bryant & may,matchbox,national museum of labour history,social reform,union,unionisation,demonstration,capitalism,nuclear,windscale,nuclear waste,nuclear power station,radioactive waste,windscale inquiry,environment,postcards,printer,do it yourself,intervention,political statement,peter kennard,walkerprint,property,copyright,law,court,intellectual property,rights,privacy,pinhole,teds,
      • titleCamerawork Magazine - Issue 17
      • subtitleIssue 17: The fashion Spread, Blair Peach-No Cover Up, Matchgirls' Strike-Labour History Musuem, Pictures from Windscale, Postcards, Photography and the Law
      • dimension17 pages
      • ocr1
      • copyrightFour Corners/Half Moon Photography Workshop/Camerawork, Rosetta Brooks, Terry Smith, Ken Worpole, Peter Kennard, Mike Abrahams, Peter Kennard, Richard Platt, Adrian Barr-Smith, Guy Bourdin, G.M. Cookson, Pete Smith, John Sturrock, Deborah Turbeville, Mike Abrahams, Peter Marlow, Chris Steele-Perkins, Helmut Newton, Richard Greenhill, National Museum of Labour History, Manchester Studies Archive
      • credits
      • related
      • locationBethnal Green, London, UK (pg 1,2,3) France (pg 4,5) Southall, London, UK (pg 6,7,8,9,10) Hackney, London, UK (pg 11) Windscale (now Sellafield), UK (pg 13) Nevada, USA. South Africa
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      • origination_date1980
      • origination_year1980
      • origination_month0
      • created2018-06-04 14:58:19
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      • modified2025-09-17 19:55:06
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      • featured0
      • pdf_textm f . Mm Postcard of YVindscale 1979 Mike Abrahams The Fashion Spread Blair Peach - No Cover Up Matchgirls’ Strike - Labour History Museum Pictures from Windscale Postcards Photography and the Law No 17 Half Moon Photography Workshop 60p/$1.75 1 CAMERAWORK Lcs nouveau \ T-shirlvdcbjrdcurx rcsscmblcnt .i lout saufa la chcrrmc dev dockets: ils sapparenteni plutot aux maillots dc danseuses modcrncs uvee leurs munches longues, leurs prolonds decolleics.ou uus hauls dc tutus avee leurs brcielles ct leurcorsuttebusiier A gauche. T-shirt a munches longues en jersey de colon dc Jjck>tcx. ci sa jupc portclcuillc cn jersey dc colon rouge reversible rosede Jack vies, Gianni Versace pour Callaghan SanJ.ilcs Charles Jourdan A df.. T-shirt bustier cn jersey de coion ct sa jupc fronccc cn mcme jersey. Dominique Peelers pourG uilare Sandalcs Charles Jourdan Au centre, bustier a brcielles cn jersey de coion cl short assorti. (juitarc. Coiffures Valentin pour J c a n - l OW9 D lV < 1 Maquillagcs L ancaster: tcints hales ct unil'ics avee Visage Bm n/c. Photo prise a I'I Intel I oniainebleau a Miami Bench. Tics gai. pour lous les instants dc voire v ie : “CabriolcT le nouveau parluni dbli/u b c tli Arden. Guy Bourdin, French Vogue May 1978: To turn the page is not only to open and close the spectacle of the fashion spread but to cut up the figure with which we are spatially identified - to open and close her legs. Fashion photography as anonymous history Fashion photography is traditionally regarded as the light­ weight end of photographic practice. Its close relationship to the economic imperatives of turnover makes the fashion photograph the transitory image par excellence. For his­ torians and critics concerned with isolating unique photo­ graphic images and according them enduring significance, the commercial sphere of photography - the domain of the everyday image —represents the debasement of the conven­ tion of such ‘great’ photographs. For most people, however, the commercial image represents the essence of their expe­ rience of photography. Cultural analysis of the commercial photograph has habi­ tually treated it as a departure from the naturalist and realist historic tradition, in which the ‘unique’ image is identified by excluding those characteristics most closely identified with the commercial world. Economic forces are seen as altering and negating the ‘reality’ of the photographic image. Market forces introduce the caption which can determine and distort what is seen in the picture. ‘Silence’ is converted into the ‘speech’ of the advertising caption or newspaper headline. Whenever photographic conventions hit the streets, they are encountered as ‘diluted’. Commercial images, so the argument goes, are produced under con­ straint, compromised or distorted by their proximity to the technological division of labour and responsibility. This view of the culture industry sees the destruction of the individuality of the images and the uniqueness of their production. We see the typical instead of the unique moment or event. We see stereotype and cliche where we want to seek the creative representation of human expression and emotion. The texture of mechanical reproduction seems alien and deadening; the image in currency is reduced to the commonplace of urban experience. Given this prevalent critical and historical attitude, photo­ graphers are inclined to regard the economic and techno­ logical processes as a ‘threat’ to their domain - the taking of the photograph. This, the ‘decisive moment’, is seen as the most powerful point in the process, the point at which the ‘real’ world reproduces itself; it is more creative than the mass production processes which deplete and assimilate the image, stamping it with the uniformity and monotony of a commodity. Photographers produce images and see them as fuel for the sequence of formulae and stereotypes within the turnover of trends and fashions, and within the machinery of production. Critical and historical tradition has thus made us see the creativity of the photographer and mass production as opposed to each other. This has prevented investigation of those features of photography produced by the combination of these processes. Although photography has its origins in the reproduction of nature by machine, fashion and advertis­ ing photography must be studied as a process of mechanical reproduction of the mechanical image. The ‘other’ side of photography is the ability to reproduce a number of copies from a single moment. The picture is one of many on the streets, in magazines, television and film. Media technology is structured for the repetition and pro­ liferation of images as commodities appearing and disappear­ ing in and out of mass circulation. Images are seen in relation to one another, as stereotypes going in and out of currency, rather than as unique peep-holes into reality. Not only does the camera enable us to look at the world, it also establishes the conditions for the world to look on us. Image is not simply something seen; it is also something we ‘wear’. The mass circulation of photographic images emphasises our awareness of self-image, and establishes a relationship between the particular and the typical. Historians of photography have yet to do justice to this ‘other’ side of photography, possibly because it is too familiar. Perhaps what is needed is what Siegfried Gideon calls ‘anonymous history’: an account of the effects of tech­ nology on personal experience. But how does one look at photographic history and do justice to the processes which make the imagery typical and transitory, without selecting certain great images in their uniqueness? The answer might be found by looking at the sphere of photography most tied to the machinery of the media: advertising photography. Changes in the nature of recent advertising and fashion photography also necessitate such an analysis, as well as a re-appraisal of the caricatures of commercial photography. The availability of photographs in the galleries of many major cities has enabled photographers to develop further areas of sponsorship in the Seventies, and has created a market for the Masters and for an established historical tradition, and yet the recent malaise of the realist/naturalist tradition has been accompanied by a greater inflexibility of its norms in the establishment of academic and economic sponsorship which has grown up around these genres. Incessant re-iteration of the ‘zero-point’ of the photo­ graphic document has transformed it into a rhetoric of its own. The contemporary politically-committed social docu­ ment produced for gallery exhibition tends to speak more of rhetorical nostalgia for its Thirties precursors, and for the innocence of style, than of its subject. This deathly quality of nostalgia, the event’s pastness rather than its currency in our political perceptions pervades so many self-conscious servants of tradition. However whilst the realist/naturalist genres are at a stand­ still, or are even regressing, there have been dramatic changes in the photography encountered in the streets - and particularly in the intimacy of the double-page spread. CONTENTS Double-Page Spread - Fashion and Advertising Photography is designed to provide a forum for the exchange of ideas, views and information on photography and other forms of communication. By exploring the application, scope and content of photo­ graphy, we intend to demystify the process. We see this as part of the struggle to learn, to describe and to share experiences and so contribute to the process by which we grow in capacity and power to control our lives. Rosetta Brooks Page 1 Who K illed Blair Peach? Photographs from the exhibition Ken Worpole 4 Photography/Politics: One reviewed Terry Smith 6 Pictured History: The Matchgirls’ Strike 1888. Some photographs from the National Museum of Labour History, Limehouse. Terry Smith 7 Nuclear Wastes - Pictures from Windscale Mike Abrahams 11 Editorial Group: Mike Goldwater, Greg Kahn (co-ordinator), Jenny Matthews, Richard Platt, Shirley Read (co-ordinator), Terry Smith. Wish you were here: uses of the postcard and making your own Peter Kennard, Richard Platt 12 People who worked on this issue were: Ed Barber, Emma Diamond, Nicky Hughes, Liz Kessler, Liz Mackie, Marguerite McLaughlin, Nick Oakes, Jill Pack, Siddhiratna. Distribution: Keith Cavanagh. (ISSN 0308 1676) The Photographer and the Law part 1. Where you stand taking photographs Adrian Barr-Smith 14 This issue of Camerawork, January/February 1980, was produced by the Publishing Project, Half M oon Photography Workshop, 119 Roman Road, London E2. 01-980 8798. Printed by Expression Printers Ltd, London N l. Letters and information 15 CAM ERAW ORK Pensez Varese, le soleil >era votre com plice Guy Bourdin French Vogue May 1978: He organises his images around the divide of the double-page and the turn o f the page. o f minority opinions cannot be accounted for in the view which foresees the media industry triumphing in an identity and uniformity of cultural experience. For Marcuse, avant-garde art as oppositional culture is depleted by absorption and assimilation into mainstream 'affirmative culture’ While this may seem . prophetic in view o f the current state o f an, indifference to oppositional art is the result not o f a depletion or assimilation o f its meanings, but o f its isolation. It appears as one cultural ghetto amongst many, with its own diminishing media stake. It is not that the values o f a minority culture are distorted and absorbed into the mainstream. They pose no threat at all. The principle o f negation itself, which avantgarde culture once represented, is now built in to all spheres o f cultural activity. Even disco music, ostensibly the alignment o f human expression dance - with the rhythm o f the machine, has its negation in groups like Kraftwerk for whom the machine pulse which ‘ animates’ disco-dance is the object o f morbid contemplation. It is not merely a ‘ progressive’extension o f popular culture. What is incorporated is negation. This now guarantees a sort o f all-round authenticity. I can enjoy it for itself, or for its parody of itself. Irony mediates these days - it is no escape. Tolerance o f mechanised cultural products has ascended to a higher level: an acceptance of the limitations o f the medium in an engagement with the process o f mediation. As Adorno and Horkheimer said: The triumph of advertising in the culture industry is that consumers feel compelled to buy and use its products though they see through them.' Helmut Newton: manipulating stereotypes Many see the new representation o f women in advertisements and especially in fashion photo­ graphs as a sort o f masculine counter-offensive against the new feminist consciousness o f sexual stereotyping. That some o f the significant indi­ vidual contributions to this recent change happen to be from women in no way contradicts the claim that we are seeing the development of the most perniciously sexist imagery yet encountered in the very core of sexual stereo­ typing, fashion photography. Fashion photography in the Seventies has,in one sense,produced nothing particularly new, no recognisable ideal like Jean Shrimpton or Twiggy in the Sixties. N o particular look or appearance seems to dominate. Models seem to be straight off an assembly line, representing a well established physical norm. Most con­ spicuous is the repression of the model’ dis­ s tinctive individuality. She is treated in her identity with her type, not as a particular kind of woman, but as a model. Stereotyping appears to occur through suppression o f the awareness o f stereotype and by identification with the unique. The dynamics o f fashion are embodied in the dualism o f the world itself: fashion is what is general and typical, and yet it is also restricted and indi­ vidual. The fashion photograph is on a threshold between two worlds: the consumer public, and a mythic elite created in the utopia o f the photo­ graph as well as in the reality of a social group maintained by the fashion industry. Recent fashion photography seems to convert the utopias into dystopias. The Helmut Newton model is one o f a type, presented with the cold distance o f a fleshy automaton, an extension o f the technology which manipulates her and converts her into an object. Her veneer, which is at one with the gloss o f the image, is to be flicked past and consumed in a moment. When the models strike up stereo­ typed poses, it is their deadness and frc enness which is foregrounded. The suggestion that they are frozen from a narrative continuum empha­ sises their strangeness and their discontinuous, fragmented nature, like film stills isolated from the cinematic flow. Some have interpreted the strange, unusual settings in the work o f Guy Bourdin and Helmut Newton - accidents and suicides - as the intru­ sion o f a ‘ world’ real into fashion photography. I think quite the reverse is the case: it is because scenes o f rape and death are commonplace in film and television that they can be treated with such distance in fashion photography. The aura o f a particular kind o f image, not the aura o f the streets, is utilised. The artificiality o f the image, its gloss and not its reality, is emphasised. It is the deathly aura o f mediation which encases everything in gloss. Newton’ harsh colours, s particularly his use o f red and blue, make an association with poor quality reproduction and thus invoke the limitations o f the medium. This emphasis upon the alien and artificial qualities o f the picture makes a straightforward accusation o f sexism problematic. All fashion photography, as the dominant currency o f female images, could be seen as inherently sexist, manipulating exchanges between self and self-image. Yet this is conventionally suppressed Deborah Turbeville, Wallflower (Quartet 1978): her photographs are presented scratched, violated, and montaged together. in the image o f the moment, as it binds us to a m odel o f femininity beyond existing norms, con­ verting them into stereotypes. T o recognise an image as a constraint, as a violation or repression o f femininity, is to glimpse the demise o f a stereotype going out o f circulation, its descent hastened by its very mass circulation. Each ascendant, newer image promises to escape those constraints. Accordingly, fashion photo­ graphy seeks to suppress any sense o f the strangeness o f sexual typification, the conver­ sion o f femininity into a static type or commodity. The sense o f stereotype must be reserved for hindsight in the succession o f female images. Newton manipulates existing stereotypes; their alienness is accentuated, and yet they are almost eternal archetypes in their sexual dramas. The passive reclining woman offers no threat: she is completely malleable, a dummy made of flesh. The object o f gratuitous sexual violence and violation, she offers no resistance, but because o f this she becomes unreal, like de Sade’ libertines. As the threat o f personality s diminishes, her image-like quality transports her beyond eroticism of the living to fetishism of the inanimate object. She fits into dominant stereo­ types so completely that she ceases to connote a reality apart from the images which constitute her fife. By mixing dummies with five models in the French V ogue o f June 1977, Newton makes an unambiguous erotic response (from either sex) impossible. Instead, the picture sequence directs voyeuristic attention to the conversion point between object and flesh, and to their deathly reciprocity in the photographic act. While the photographs are undeniably erotic, the eroticism is attached to the process of media­ tion itself. Many o f his more successful photo­ graphs hold a distanced engagement with the manipulative devices o f fashion photography and with the process o f mediation. Those alien features present in suppressed form in fashion photography and current images of women are exposed and foregrounded. The image is presented as alien: a threat rather than an invita­ tion. Stereotypes are presented as falsity. Guy Bourdin: ‘ trap for the gaze’ a . In the post-war period the growth of mass pro­ duction and reproduction was greeted in some circles as a threat to individuality and to the uniqueness o f human activity. The horrific spectre o f the totality o f industrial culture was the familiar expression o f a fear o f what seemed inevitable as a result o f consumer culture: the false universalisation and homogenisation of human experience. Theodor Adorno saw the stamp o f the machine everywhere, reducing everything to a ‘ sameness’ reflecting and , reinforcing a sense o f alienation in all aspects of private life and experience. As massentertainment and advertising become more dominant, they increasingly level experience down to ‘ lowest common denominator’The the . threat o f the culture industry is the production and reproduction o f sameness in all spheres of cultural life. Adorno saw the media as part of a great machine serving to encompass, assimilate and absorb all opposition and all individual variation by acceding to the sameness o f machine production. Current cultural trends could be inter­ preted as posing quite the opposite threat - the loss o f com m on cultural experience. The de­ centralisation o f fringe cultures and the increase They could not, however, have predicted the peculiar route to this triumph. From the vantage point o f the Forties and Fifties it was difficult to imagine a fashion photographer complaining about censorship by the machinery which Adorno predicted would subsume cultural pro­ ducers like Helmut Newton. The latter’ s complaints about English Vogue are echoed by fashion photographers beginning to talk about being ‘ given free rein’ magazines. When Guy by Bourdin claims to be an artist, he is laying claim to a specific type o f formal problem encountered with a particular kind o f image in circulation. It is not so much that ‘ double page is his the canvas’but that the double page is not canvas is , the basis o f the claim. H is material is what canvas stands in anti­ thesis to: the texture o f mechanical reproduc­ tion. In Bourdin’work, the double-page is not s the vehicle for communicating the image, it is a structure characteristic o f a particular kind of encounter. He organises his images around the form o f mechanical reproduction, around the divide o f the double-page and the turn of the page. In the May 1978 French Vogue the female voyeur/spectator figure is divided by the centre­ fold as she watches the almost symmetrical divi­ sion o f her reclining self-images. T o turn the page is not only to open and close the spectacle of the fashion spread, but to cut up the figure with which we are spatially identified - to open and close her legs. The model is completely engulfed in the vertical divide as though by a mistake in binding, leaving the two legs isolated on facing pages. At other times the double-page becomes its own mirror. In a March 1976 French Vogue 3 CAMERAWORK spread, a colour reproduction faces a black and white reproduction of almost the identical scene, as though frozen from successive moments. The process of reproduction itself is being repro duced. Within these more dramatic formal devices, spatial relationships are set up within the pictures which rebound upon the strange ness of our ordinary encounter with the double page, the photograph and with the advertise ment itself. We are re-directed from the object (the product) to the spatial ambiguities of its setting, which jar with the expectations built into encounters with photographs and advertise ments. Bourdin enhances the spatial strangeness of the conventional spread, to accentuate the alienness of what is unfolded in that horizontal continuum and around the vertical division in the process of unfolding. This spread best exemplifies the division and alternation of shallow and deep spaces, which is used to juxta pose facade and depth, the frontality of the image with the three-dimensionality of setting. Bourdin plays upon a hesitation in the spatial and temporal expectations of the double-page, emphasising the alienness of the setting of both the product and the advertisement. Brechtian distanciation and the formalist ‘exposure of the device’ have become mainstream rhetorical manoeuvres. Bourdin’s shoe advertisements provide a case in point. Without the manufacturer’s name as caption, some would be unrecognisable either as advertisements or as having shoes as their subject. In a passing encounter with the image that the fashion magazine produces, it is profitable to exert the negative principle as a subversion of the neutrality of ‘flicking through’. neutrality of the product-image in the context of the cash exchange. Obsolete product-images have been revived as nostalgia for the mythical past of the product itself. There is an obsession with the conversion point between the currency and redundancy of the image. In the same way, recent fashion trends have been exclusively nostalgic. Even current sci-fi and high-tech fashions come over as a nostalgia for older stereotypes of ‘futurism’, as a taming of images of technology which were once threaten ing. But recent forms of revivalism are not a specific attachment to a bygone age - they are more like Sixties nostalgias romanticising the peasantry, or other kinds of primitivism. This nostalgic undercurrent has come to dominate and has almost caught up with itself. Nostalgic attachment to the immediate past becomes an attachment to the process of turn over, a narcissistic identification with the alien qualities of one’s own past. That point of selfawareness at the juncture of the up-to-theminute and the out-of-date becomes an identifi cation with the very process of mediation that fashion represents. The photography of Helmut Newton and Guy Bourdin reflects a self-awareness of fashionphotography and of its falsities. They convey the sense of an impenetrable veneer, resistant to the very movement of stereotypes. In the work of one of the best woman fashion-photographers, Deborah Turbeville, a different sense of the alienness of the image is represented as a sort of hesitation between self-images. In many ways her photographs are at variance with charac teristics of her male counterparts. For example, her models are not chosen for their identity with a fairly neutral type, but usually for their diver gence from the type or image which they appear to represent. At best her work involves this hesi tation between the image presented by the model and the image presented by the picture, although finally this sense is always commu nicated by the latter. Conveying this uncom fortable relationship with the model’s selfpresented image pushes her towards portraiture, or her models towards acting. However, she is clearly not satisfied with communicating the strangeness of the female image through the illustrative neutrality of the photograph. In her book Wallflower, her recent photographs are presented scratched, violated and montaged together. In the foreword to this book she describes her photographs as: like the women you see in them. A little out o) balance with their surroundings, waiting anxiously jor the right person to find them, and thinking perhaps that they are out oj their time. They move jorward clutching their past about them, as i) the ground o) the present may jail away. . . Perhaps they accede a little too easily to an automatic overlay of nostalgia resulting from the associa tion of limited colour range with the faded photograph or with the technical qualities of early photography. At the moment her work seems unresolved, as she herself says: My pictures walk a light-rope . . . I am not a Jashion photographer, I am not a photojoumalist, I am not a portraitist. Whatever one’s opinion of the ‘success’ of her pictures, it is interesting that a photographer preoccupied with the kinds of self-image mass circulation produces should find the fashion spread the most accommodating site for her exploration, however provisional she may feel this to be. W'hether the alienness of the recent fashion image is an extreme expression of the autonomy of fashion photography, whether this implies a distancing from the form of coercion which the fashion spread represents, whether it constitutes the elevation of the advertisement to a higher power and greater autonomy, or whether it is the beginning of a break-up of that structure of representation: these questions have implica tions far beyond fashion alone. Rosetta Brooks I would like to acknowledge the writings oj John Stezaker, especially his ideas on stereotyping. I rejer to Archetype and Stereotype, a paper delivered to the Photography Convention organised by the Psychology Department oj Southampton Univer sity (to be published), and to Fragments published by the Photographers' Gallery. Rosetta Brooks teaches at St. Martin's School oj Art. She is currently writing two books, on jashion photography and on style in the seventies. F ootnotes 1. From ‘The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception’ in The Dialectic of Enlightenment, Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, trans. John Cumming. Allen Lane 1973. 2. Lacan characterizes all pictures as ‘traps for the gaze’, but the phrase is used in the context of a discussion of the use of distorted images to ‘catch’ the eye and maintain the engagement of the gaze. Helmut Newton sequence, French Vogue June 1977: the cold distance of a fleshy automaton, an extension of the technology which manipulates the model and converts her into an object. An arrest of vision is required at all costs - even at the expense of accentuating the alienness of clothing itself. Our sense of puzzlement seeks double confirmation which is provided by the product name. A ‘trap for the gaze’2 may be the solution to the immediate pressures of the market, but the implications of an increasing dependence upon an enlarging and increasingly autonomous advertising industry are less easy to estimate. The new autonomy and independence from the product achieved by the product image seems to promise a fulfilment of the totalitarian ideal of propaganda for its own sake. In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction Walter Benjamin saw fascism as the ‘political consummation of I’Art pour I’Art', in an elevation of propaganda to a new level of aesthetic self justification. The emancipation of the image from its caption, and of the product-image from the product, means that the advertising image has become the pure imperative, not divisible into form and content, the pure veneer, the absolute facade for and of itself. r m , M ri- f a rrr :n r -u rta n l p i- *>■ filrr. rl tn r llr r d r a t -h u rl- Io n -n r C ia lr r - i l oo ro a ra » ir Deborah Turbeville: nostalgia, wallpaper, etc This new autonomy of the product-image has created another market sector. The collecting of ephemera, the practice of surrounding oneself with old and sometimes not so old advertise ments, is now almost a middle-class stereotype. A large business has established itself selling not so much old as ‘fixed’ brand images. Mass pro duction exploits the borderline between con suming and collecting, between the connoisseurial attention to qualities and the sheer Guy Bourdin French Vogue May 1978: the alternation of deep and shallow spaces to juxtapose facade and depth. . . we are re-directed from the object (the product) to the spatial ambiguities of its setting. 4 CAMERAWORK WHO KILLED BIAIR PEACH? The death o f Blair Peach in Southall in April 1979 marked a watershed in the growing concern over the changing role and image o f the police force. Public concern, already roused by the increasing evidence o f corruption, racism and brutality within the police force, was faced with the larger question o f police accountability, of'w ho polices the police?’ This concern accompanies growing debate over the nature o f democracy in Britain today. ‘Public opinion’ still trusts in the existence o f democratic accountability despite what Stuart H all calls 'a deep and decisive movement towards a more disci­ plinary and authoritarian kind o f society’. This movement is clearly visible not only in the emergence o f the police as a militant ideological force but also in government policy and plans for new legislation. The ‘law and order’ issue cannot be seen as separate from Conservative economic policy which creates economic instability and social tensions while claiming to preserve a status quo. In this climate the media leads us to believe that all demonstrations, far from being essential to the expression o f differing opinions, are dangerous disturbances of the peace, and that those who attend them should ‘keep o ff the streets o f London’. This attitude underlies official indifference to the urgent questions raised by the events o f Southall and their aftermath. The exhibition from which these photo­ graphs are taken shows how it is vital that we examine all the implications o f the question Who killed Blair Peach? This exhibition has been put together by people in East London associated with the Friends of Blair Peach Committee. The exhibition is un­ ashamedly polemical in tone and propagandist in intention. We hope that it will bring many more people to an understanding of, and support for, the demands which this campaign formulated within a week of the police riot in Southall on the 23rd April 1979 and which we continue to press for today. These were, in brief: 1. A full public enquiry into the events in Southall on April 23rd, including the full circumstances surrounding the death of Blair Peach. 2. The disbanding of the Special Patrol Group. Subsequently the campaign has been con­ cerned to widen its demands to include a more general enquiry into the rising incidence of unexplained deaths in police custody, which has been one of the more worrying trends of the 1970’s. The exhibition integrates photographs and texts to try to give a picture of the police operation in Southall on that day, the particular tactics of the Special Patrol Group in the ‘mopping up’ operation in which Blair Peach died, and eye-witness accounts of the severity and brutality of the attack on Southall. There is one large panel, taken from the Morning Star, which examines in depth the manipulation of charges by the police to ensure that very few of the 342 people charged after Southall were able to elect to go for trial by jury. The exhibition gives figures detailing the travesties of justice which the Magistrates’ Court at Barnet put through on the nod. There is a series of photo­ graphs which convey the very real distress and grief occasioned by Blair Peach’s murder, both in Southall and within the wide anti-racist move­ ment of which Blair was a part. A detailed chronology of the important dates connected with Blair Peach’s death is given, from which one can see exactly how the police were able quite cynically to prolong the inquest - and the burial itself - in the hope of the matter fading from public memory. Other sections of the exhibition detail some of the more well known recent deaths of other people at the hands of the police and call for a wider campaign to bring more public accountability into police affairs; a final section suggests how people may take the campaign further. The title of the exhibition, ‘Who Killed Blair Peach?’, continues to represent for us the princi­ pal, though not exclusive, theme of the campaign. This is not to follow the path of martyrology, but neither do we wish to allow the Blair Peach’s funeral on June 13th murder of a widely-loved individual political militant to disappear into the abstractions of ‘inevitability’ or hard-edged political ‘realism’. It will be through the hard-fought public cam­ paign to have Blair’s murder fully investigated within the context of a public inquiry that the complicated manoeuvres, subterfuges, prevari­ cations and fabrications of the police and the legal authorities will be exposed. Already the campaign has pushed against, and finally over­ turned, the Coroner’s ruling supported by the High Court, that a Coroner’s jury was not neces­ sary. The commissioning of the independent John Sturrock/Report pathologist’s report, w'hich defined the wholly illegal nature of the murder weapon, the publi­ cising of the miscellaneous and very nasty weaponry found in the SPG lockers, the con­ tinual pressure on the press - all these have helped spotlight the mendacity of the police public relations campaign. In doing so, with such intensity, we feel these things have brought about public concern, and have also stimulated concern with many other disquieting cases. It is surely no coincidence that the whole question of deaths in police custody emerged to become a major political issue, following on from the most blatant of all police cover-ups - the failure to make any prosecutions in the case of Blair Peach who was murdered in front of dozens of eye­ witnesses. Since April last year, the Friends of Blair Peach Committee has sent speakers to dozens of meetings and organised many meetings itself as well as social and fund-raising events. It helped organise the highly successful, but little publi­ cised, national picket of police stations on October 10th, the night before the inquest finally re-opened, which involved over 10,000 people around the country. It works closely with the Southall Defence Campaign and stands in full solidarity with all the brothers and sisters arrested and charged on April 23rd. Yet the campaign still has far to go. The inquest will not finally re-open until probably the beginning of February, with a jury that will probably look as though it had just come straight from the New Year’s Honour List. The Southall Trials will carry on well into 1980 and need soli­ darity and support. The exhibition will, we hope, play an important part in raising people’s awareness of the enormity the state offensive on April 23rd 1979, and make them active in the campaign to re-write and re-visualise the Southall riot so that it goes into history as a failed attempt to defeat a popular and courageous anti-racist and anti-fascist initiative. Ken Worpole Friends of Blair Peach Committee Commemoration march through Southall in memory of Blair Peach G. M. Cookson/Socialist Challenge 'Who Killed Blair Peach?’ was compiled and designed by Graham Birkin, Neil Martinson and Ken Worpole and is an HMPW Touring Exhibition. CAMERAWORK John Sturrock/Report Southall, April 23rd 1979 Chronology of events following Blair Peach’s death at Southall 1979 April 23 April 24 April 25 April 26 April 28 May 25 June 6 June 7 June 8 June 13 June 14 July 7 July 17 September 10 October 3 October 10 October 11 October 12 November 15 November 22 December 14 Anti-racist demonstration at Southall. Over 700 people are arrested of whom 342 are later charged. Blair Peach is killed in an SPG ‘mopping up’ operation, struck on the head by an unidentified instrument. Deputy Assistant Commissioner Powis says, ‘This is a very serious matter. A man has died. We are treating this as a murder enquiry.’ Prime Minister Callaghan blames much of the violence on ‘outsiders’. Home Secretary Merlyn Rees refuses the widespread call for a public enquiry into the events at Southall. The Blair Peach inquest opens and is adjourned until July 17th at the request of the Metropolitan Police. Commemoration march through Southall in memory' of Blair Peach by 10,000 people. (Police continue to disallow release of body for burial). 147 MPs support motion calling for a public enquiry. Some five weeks have passed. As yet the police have still not searched the SPG lockers for possible weapons which might have caused Blair Peach’s death. Blair Peach’s family release their own independent pathologist’s report into the cause of death. Death is ascribed to one severe blow by something like a ‘lead-filled rubber cosh’. Press assumes therefore it was not a policeman un til. . . Daily Mirror front page scoop: ‘RIOT COP IN DEATH QUIZ’. The police announce that they have been holding a Barnes SPG officer for questioning. It seems the inquiry is about to produce a conclusion. The police officer held for four days is released. Blair Peach is buried in East London Cemetery following a funeral procession of over 10.000 people. At a press conference Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir David McNee defends the SPG from recent ‘ill-founded criticism’. He tells a black reporter who had expressed the concern which many ethnic groups feel about the SPG, ‘If you keep off the streets of London and behave yourselves you won’t have the SPG to worry about.’ The Morning Star leaks extracts from the Commission for Racial Equality report describing ‘undisciplined and uncontrolled clubbing of fleeing civilians.’ The inquest re-opens and adjourns until October at request of the Metropolitan Police who haven’t finished their enquiries. The coroner says he wants to hear about general police behaviour on that day and other injuries to demonstrators. Some twelve weeks have passed. As yet no identity parades have been held. Main trials of 342 people arrested at Southall begin at Barnet Magistrates Court. Sir Thomas Hetherington, the Director of Public Prosecutions,announces that, due to insufficient evidence, there are to be no prosecutions in the Blair Peach case. Nationwide torchlit picket of police stations on the eve of Blair Peach inquest. Over 10.000 people involved. Inquest re-opens. Inquest adjourned when Blair Peach’s family apply to the High Court for a jury. The High Court rejects the application for a jury. Police reopen internal inquiry after anonymous call providing evidence of SPG cover up. In the Appeal Court Lord Denning rules that the coroner’s inquest will have a jury. Southall, April 23rd 1979 John Sturrock/Report 6 CAMERAWORK he cover of the first Photography/ Politics annual declares its guiding prin­ ciples: an expanded definition of both photography and politics. Next to an image of a Hackney garment worker is placed a blow-up of one of the guides which annotate photographs in fashion magazines. Both images are thus montaged together: the substitution of worker for model, of work for display, produces the ‘third effect’ underlined by the caption Garment worker, whose wages don’t allow her to buy what she makes. The primary location for this meaning to do its counter-ideological work is as part of the exhibition Women - Work in Hackney by the Hackney Flashers Collective, touring community centres, libraries, schools and factories in the area since 1976. As part of a cover for a photography annual called Photography/ Politics, however, it is intended to be an example of how the editors see the relationships between the two terms of their title. These rela­ tionships are of crucial importance to current political practice: what has Photography/ Politics to tell us about them? Firstly, that ‘political photography’ should go beyond assumptions about the effectivity of the single image, no matter how powerful, to working critically with the verbal/display con­ texts in which images are reproduced. As well, it expands the arena of political engagement from the usual subjects of photo-journalism (events recognisably ‘political’), arguing that not only is personal life political but so, too, is work itself. The cover pinpoints, by image and text, a specific instance of the organisation and social relations of production under capitalism, a contradiction which results in the exploitation of the woman pictured and of all others in similar situations. Photography/Politics aims to be a theoretical and historical handbook for the practice of a socialist photography. In this respect, it is more useful than any other English publication I have seen, bringing together types of analyses and information otherwise available only in diverse sources. It is organised into three sections: theoretical, historical and examples of current practice. The first section is headed ‘Against the Dominant Ideology’ and employs, mostly, the Front cover Photography/Politics: One methods of Marxist structuralism. Sylvia Harvey’s introductory essay sets out the complexities of revisions of the base and super­ clothing and shelter for workers in many structure metaphor within recent theories of countries. It also coordinated cultural wr in all ork ideology. Gen Doy’s study of the role of photo­ media by establishing and supporting organisa­ graphy during the 1871 Paris Commune is tions for writing, theatre, dance, music, news­ detailed and scholarly, but also alert to the paper and other publishing, art schools and usages of photographs. Records of the clubs, and for film and photography. This work Communards’ pride in demolishing such passed through three phases: an emphasis on symbols of reaction as Thiers’ house and the worker-produced and controlled agit-prop Vendome column were used a few weeks later as during the twenties but especially the early evidence for their execution. Photographs of thirties, a shift to alliances with professionals and destroyed civic buildings were used to portray intellectuals after 1935 in Popular Fronts against the Communards as vandals, threatening Fascism, and a submergence into official antiprivate property. Photographers such as Appert Fascism during the war. Within this framework, made a brisk trade in montaged recreations of it was specific to class struggles in each country, events discrediting the Communards, especially that of Germany being perhaps the best-known, the comparatively rare executions performed by and thoroughly explored here by Korner and them, and in cartes-de-visite of some of the 25Stiiber. Solid work is also done on the U.S. 40,000 Communards executed by the returning and Dutch movements by Russell Campbell and Bert Hogenkamp, while Douglas Allan, in his government. In two articles on the illustrated weekly. short piece on the movement in Scotland, makes the point that in some cases it is already too late Picture Post, Stuart Hall brings out its to recover information from former activists. remarkable ‘transparency’ in relation to the Terry Dennett’s article on the English realities of the war period and Jo Spence explores (Workers’) Film and Photo League draws on the changes in ads directed at women - shifting recently recovered archives to show groups from distinct class and gender stereotypes to a active in Central and East London, Hackney and less class specific, double role (mother and Islington, producing photographs, films, slide worker) during the war, followed by a reversion shows and even ‘film slide talkies’ on work and to the distinctions as women were eased out of living conditions in their areas, local and inter­ the labour force after the war. An image which national politics, and disseminating films etc. uses the techniques of advertising against the from Europe, especially Russia. A valuable techniques of monopoly capitalism - John compilation of the League’s films (soon to be Heartfield’s famous photomontage of Hitler’s available from the B .F.I.’s National Film salute transformed into a hand receiving money Archive) by Victoria Wegg-Prosser completes from an industrialist (literalising the slogan the section. ‘Millions Stand Behind Me’) - is subjected to a detailed analysis in a welcome translation of Research such as this is essential to current political work, not only in that it establishes Eckhard Siepmann’s essay. This section ends with a long essay in which Judith Williamson traditions which loosen the stranglehold of deconstructs a series of ads which use images of modernism on young artists, but also in that, by families, showing the family to be a key site on studying the successes and failures of our pre­ which bourgeois ideology displaces class contra­ decessors, we can learn much for oppositional practice. One obvious lesson is the effectivity of dictions. All of these essays are usefully tied to applying an unrepentantly working class pers­ examples, all foreground class and gender (although not race), thus they rarely lapse into pective to producing material on concrete situa­ the theoreticism which mars much recent tions with and for specific, and perhaps rela­ tively small, groups within the class. Another is counter-ideological thinking. the value of intra-class organisation, across job, The real originality of the book is the middle geographic and ethnic boundaries. Willi section. This is the first attempt to set out a Munzenberg’s words, critically transposed, are history of socialist photography. It concentrates on the international worker photographer move­ still relevant today: ment between the wars, presenting the results of Photography has become an indispensable and out­ standing means of propaganda in the revolutionary recent research into worker photographer organisations in Germany, Holland, Belgium, class struggle . . . Much more important, in the end, the United States, Scotland and England. Evi­ is the political effect which is achieved by the juxta­ position of several pictures, by captions and accom­ dent throughout is the guiding hand of the panying texts . . . The revolutionary workers of all Workers’ International Relief, set up by Willi Munzenberg at Lenin’s instigation in 1921 and countries have to realize these facts very clearly. organised through Communist parties in each They have to fight the class enemy with all means, country. Initially seeking aid in the Russian have to beat him on all fronts. Just as the workers in the Soviet Union have learnt to make their own famine, the agency developed to provide food. T PHOTOGRAPHY/ POLITICS: ONE com plete, co-ordinating fashion story. Simpson have G ordon G ark e. T oday’s co n fident, stylish look sewn up. And sum m ed up. Main picture: Her long skirt and pink I, m edium or Her long skirt and tube-top in red or black Small o r m edium , s two-piece suit in ivy pure c o tta From ‘T rend’ d epartm ent. £95.00 Far left: Her gilet c o a t navy/w hite check and toning skirt in navy/w hite stripe. Both in wool. Worn with shirt in white viscose. medium or l a i « T £ 9 9 .5 0 ^ the three piecraltiiiM M > ^^ co tto n corduroy jack et, grey wool trousers and three-piece s m ^ M m a - e n d ' departm erffu 25.00 machine-tools, to invent things themselves to be put to the service of peaceful socialist construction, and just as workers in capitalist countries have leamt to write their own newspapers, so the proletarian amateur photographers have to learn to master the camera and use it correctly in international class struggle. (Der Arbeiter-Fotograf, 1931.) W. I. R.-inspired cultural organisations existed in many other countries - France, Japan and Australia, for example - and Photography/ Politics: Two aims to include material on these. It would be of great interest to survey also other left cultural work of the period (for example, the Artists International Association, discussed by Tony Rickaby in History Workshop Journal, no.6) and to set such work against the aestheticised, modernist, good-times-triumphant version of the thirties recently embalmed in the Hayward Gallery. The third section deals with ‘Left Pho­ tography Today’ - only partially, the editors apparently having already collected enough material for another annual on this topic alone. The outstanding feature of this section is that it is presented by practitioners; it lacks the dis­ tancing effects of art critical surveying and is thus useful for those working, or intending to work, in similar or related ways. Liz Heron’s report on the Hackney Flashers Collective is an honest account of the practical and theoretical struggles of the group over the best ways to effec­ tively present imagery which challenged the oppression of women both at work and through such regulators of the relationships between family and work as child-care provision. Similarly, the interview with the Film and Poster Collective maps out the development of their posters from single-image and short text to the complex formats they have recently tended to use. They end by citing Gramsci: ‘Creating a new culture does not only mean one’s own individual “original” discoveries. It also, and most particu­ larly, means the diffusion in a critical form of truths already discovered, their “socialisation” as it were, and even making them the basis of vital action, an element of coordination and intellectual and m oral order . While the relationship of socialist photog­ raphy to socialist political organisation was a key element in the history section, political parties made no appearance in the theoretical section and are referred to in only two articles in this section. MINDA discuss their photomontages for CARF, the newspaper of the Campaign Against Racism and Fascism, especially their exposures of National Front leaders as Nazis and their closeness to Thatcherism. Robert Golden reports on his posters for Socialist Worker and on the series of children’s books he did with Sarah Cox, The People Working. These two articles are also the only ones whose main subject is racism and how to fight it. A further two articles show frankly what it is like to work for the local state. Nick Hedges details the stereo­ types used in ads for the charity Shelter, and Trisha Ziff gives a useful account of her work as a photographer in the Southwark Social Services Department. In contrast, I am puzzled by the inclusion of the mutual admiration notes of John Berger and Jean Mohr, and the presumption with which they treat their favourite subjects: women and peasants. Photography/Politics concludes with essays by two critic-photographers. John Tagg displays this nexus in a series of diary-like fragments, working notes on the problems of photographic representation, which range from the brilliant to the banal, from a subtle materialism to a very nearly sexist Barthesian speculativeness. Both self-indulgent and courageous, this text reveals much about the kinds of thought processes w'hich underlie the polished surfaces of most published critical writing. Allan Sekula’s ‘Dismantling Modernism, Reinventing Docu­ mentary’ organises a similar range of concerns into a cogent dismissal of modernism (‘Only formalism can unite all the photographs in the world in one room, mount them behind glass, and sell them’) and an equally intense interrogation of documentary ‘realism’. He calls for a ‘truly critical social documentary’ which will ‘frame the crime, the trial and the system of justice and its official myths’, exemplifying the beginnings of this by describing the work of a small group of mainly young U.S. photographers/film-makers/video artists: Martha Rosier, Jon Jost, Brian Connell, Phillip Steinmetz, Fred Lonidier, Chauncey Hare and himself. All focus on aspects of working life seen in the context of power relations within parti­ cular industries. Displayed with extensive analytical captioning, the W'ork is returned for use within the political struggles of those who are the subjects of the photographs. It aims to ‘document monopoly capitalism’s inability to deliver the conditions of a fully human life’, an art of ‘resistance aimed ultimately at socialist transformation’. These remarks indicate the direction in which Photography/Politics points, the model of photographic practice which it proposes. It shows that there have been, and are, substantial achievements. It also reflects a core contradic­ tion of current interventionist photography: the tensions between individual work for the working class and collective work produced within the class. In this sense, the history section of the book mounts a critique of much current w’ork. Some of the important work being done w'ithin working class political organisations and community structures is included, but there is much more being done, here, in the U.S., Germany and Australia, for example, which could form the focus of the next annual. Finally, Photography/Politics, by occupying a space overlapping with the concerns of this magazine, poses some sharp questions. It was put together, and some of the articles written, by people who were instrumental in founding the Half Moon Photography Workshop, in building up its range of activities and in publishing Camerawork. They were obliged to resign, or were sacked, in August 1977, when the collective split for personal, political and ideological reasons. As a non-participant, I cannot comment on this affair. Nonetheless, part of the significance of Photography/Politics is that its future does not depend on Arts Council funding. Its total commitment to expanded definitions of photography and politics is a func­ tion of this independence. Camerawork has published issues (for example on Lewisham and Northern Ireland), and the Half Moon Gallery has mounted exhibitions, within a similar commitment. But not always. If every issue was overtly ‘political’ subsidies would dry up. Photography/Politics throws into relief the fact that Camerawork seeks to address a broad audience with a wide range of liberal/left opinions. The dangers here are those of ‘wishywashy liberalism’, directionless ineffectuality, of merely reflecting this diversity rather than seek­ ing to focus it. The advantage of this is that a variety of subjects can be tackled, at different levels, and a large audience or set of audiences reached. But it is not a question of some topics being naturally ‘political’, and others ‘not’, rather of a committed political attitude across a variety of subjects, from photographic archives to photo-journalist action, from kids participa­ tion to sexual politics. That commitment should, or could, be contingent on the political vagaries of Arts Council funding is a grotesque reflection of the ways this society is organised. T erry Smith PHOTOGRAPHY/POLITICS ONE is available for £4.95 (postage 6Op, overseas postage £1.00) from P .D .C ., 21 Clerkenwell Close, E C l, or Photography Workshop, 152 Upper Street, London S I . CAMERAWORK 4 Pictured History: Matchgirls' o strike 1888 .1 The value of photographs to labour history is strikingly illustrated here: the media distorts the conditions which led to the famous strike, the photographs point to the actual conditions. The media misreports the ‘girls’ as healthy and happy in the factories and fails to point out that half of the work of the industry, the making of matchboxes, was done at home in appalling and dangerous conditions for next to nothing. Photographs made this fact undeniable. Historians who fear photo­ graphs are denying themselves a key resource; photographers who ignore the ways history is constructed are limiting the effectiveness of their work. All of the images on these pages are products of the depression of the 1880s. Cassell’s Saturday Journal for December 10, 1887 illustrates comely girls busily working in open spaces, attractive appendices to the processes of match­ making. The text is equally distorting; in breath­ less style it details the growth of Bryant & May’s as if it were a natural flowering into modern tech­ nology from the primitive rubbing together of two sticks. It lauds the large, scientifically venti­ lated factory buildings, sets out the simple, almost casual nature of the work, claims that the girls are paid between 12 and 14 shillings a week, and praises them as ‘very industrious and remarkably well behaved’, adding that ‘nearly all the girls look strong and healthy’. Two years earlier these same girls had struck against the lowering of their wages and the undermining of their health, especially the loss of their teeth from inhaling phosphorus fumes. This led Tom Mann to say of Bryant & May’s: ‘Their working girls are most miserably paid, getting only some 8s. per week . . . And that company, during the first six months of its exis­ tence, actually paid over £330,000 to share­ holders, who had not done a single stroke of work towards producing it.’1 In July 1888, four girls who had given information on their condi­ tions to social reformer Annie Besant were dis­ missed. The result was the first step in the ‘new unionism’ - all the girls walked out. ‘If a woman can by honest work, earn a little money at home in her spare time (at match­ boxes), do you see any objection to it?’ The Chief General Inspector, Local Government Board, Poplar Union Enquiry, 1906. Why did they see mutual self-defence as worth risking their jobs for? Why did they, ignored by male organisers of predominantly male unions, feel the need to fight for the establishment of their own union? And why at Bryant & May’s, recognised by all sides as one of the better employers in the industry? By rationalising production in specially-built factories, Bryant & May’s systematically in­ creased its domination of the industry until the depression of the 1880s. Its response was not to lay off workers but the other classic manoeuvre, to reduce pay. When that was resisted, it achieved the same end by stepping up its system of fines. Eleven shillings a week was the theoret­ ically conceivable maximum for a girl working at full speed in optimum conditions. But these con­ ditions rarely obtained, and fines further cut average pay down to a few shillings a week. As well, the w'ork was dangerous: ‘phossy jaw’ (phosphorus necrosis) became common, spreading pain, inflammation and abcesses from the teeth throughout the jaw and face. Bryant & May’s were more concerned to prevent this than the usual small garret factories, but even they responded in the same way when the girls affected could no longer work quickly: they would be sacked. Photographs showing the interiors of match factories do not seem to be available, but medical photographs of ‘phossy jaw’ are, and they are appalling. The East End provided capitalists with a huge pool of labour ripe for the sweating, especially that of single girls and mothers with dependants. Bryant & May’s drew on this by dividing their production between matchmaking in the fac­ tories and matchbox making as ‘outwork’. The photographs show the conditions under which thousands of women and their families assembled the parts provided by the factories. Paid at a lesser rate than the factory girls, they worked a sixteen hour day at a maximum of %d per hour. They had to provide extra materials themselves, and to take the bundles of boxes to the factory to receive the pay. Many were sacked matchmakers, many were the only breadwinners in their family. Their desperate struggle for sub­ sistence was a constant warning to those in factory jobs. How' much of this can be ‘read’ from these photographs? The information I have just given is based on evidence presented at various enquir­ ies and observations made by various investiga­ tors; the analysis is based on the work of those who have researched the subject, especially Reg Beer.2 Little of it is stated in the photographs, but, in another sense, much more is made clear. The photographs do not state that the women pictured worked sixteen hours daily at 3 per Ad hour. They show something more important: that is, what it was like to work at that job, for those hours, at that rate. Historians often seem more comfortable with facts about experience than with facts of experience — for many of them, photographs and other visual material qualify as neither. Rebutting this requires that we go over some old and obvious ground about the nature of photography. ‘They left work there and then. The discharged one was taken back but this did not pacify them. A hundred of them marched to Fleet Street yes­ terday afternoon, and sent a deputation to see Mrs Besant. They expressed their determination to hold out. There is no organisation amongst them, but they seem to stick together well.’ The Star, July 6, 1888. Photographs are records of what the camera pointed at. They are records of momentary ap­ pearances, and relate to reality only to the degree that the recorded surface itself does. The camera records only a limited field of appearance, and thus a photograph is a selection from amongst all possible appearances; its relation to reality is, therefore, only as strong as the selection. Being a selection, a photograph is a reading of appear­ ances: we have to ask why the photographer was there at that time, which conventions of photo­ graphy she was operating, which ideologies were influencing her, what was the context of use of the photograph? As well, appearances can be, and often are, actively constructed — things and people are arranged, posed, juxtapositions faked — just as elements from different times and places can be combined and rephotographed. It is possible to photograph an appearance in a variety of ways, to alter the image drastically in printing it and to change it still further by the addition of other images and texts when it is re­ produced or displayed. These are some of the limits within which a photographer arrives at meaning; they are also some of the ways in which meaning is manipulated for the viewer. How does this bear on the logical status of photographs as evidence? Because photographs record what was before the camera at a particular moment, they are renderings of instances which, strictly speaking, cannot stand for any other instances. In being so easily manipulable, doubt can be raised about the degree to which they stand for even the instance ostensibly ‘caught’ by the camera. Thus the demand for extra-photo­ graphic authentication, by verbal and written documents and statements, implying that they are somehow less subject to partiality and mani­ pulation. For all these reasons, historians tend to use photographs as illustrations rather than evidence, and almost never think visually in their efforts to reconstruct history. But this caution becomes self-defeating as collections of unofficial, people’s memorabilia - such as that at the National Museum of Labour History - continue to grow, making more and more photographs available to resear­ chers, teachers, activist publishers and others. The point is that photographs are not only records of what the camera was pointed at; they are also records of how the camera was pointed and how the subsequent print was made. We can, in nearly every case, decipher the technical and ideological operations which went into achieving the image and into reproducing/ displaying it. Rules of evidence for photographs will obviously differ from those applicable to written documents, but they are nonetheless rules, with the same logical status. No-one operating such rules takes seriously the claim that photographs are unproblematic represen­ tations of reality, truth or whatever. They are partial selections, always for a purpose, always in context. Like written documents, official state­ ments, works of art, that is, like any commu­ nicative form. All are constructions, but all can, with proper analysis, be deconstructed. ‘The pity is that the match girls have not been suffered to take their own course, but have been egged on to strike by irresponsible advisers. No effort has been spared by these pests of the modern industrial world, the Social Democrats, to bring the quarrel to a head.' The Times, July 14, 1888. There are, I think, some further reasons why historians tend to distrust photographs. Most writers, especially when looking at early photo­ graphs, have attempted to account for the peculiar power of the images by pointing to their ambiguity, their susceptibility to readings beyond those perhaps intended by the photo­ grapher. Both Walter Benjamin and John Berger, for example, stress the sense of the subject ‘projecting through’ the image: the viewer’s disturbing awareness that the subject was aware of being photographed, has paused for a moment to be recorded. It is as if the act of photography has disturbed what it aimed to record, changing it from what it was - it has interrupted normal social relationships and communicative exchanges. Yet, at the same time, both photographer and subject know that text continued on page 10 K CAMERj Pictures from the National 7 The National Museum of Labour History was opened in 1975 in Limehouse Town Hall. 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      • 4Project/Model/Theme.php
      • 5Project/Model/ArchiveItemsTheme.php
      • 6Project/Model/Medium.php
    • Behavior(array)
      • 0Project/Model/Behavior/HabtmCounterCacheBehavior.php
  • ProjectAdmin(array)
    • Config(array)
      • 0ProjectAdmin/Config/bootstrap.php
      • 1ProjectAdmin/Config/routes.php
  • Search(array)
    • Component(array)
      • 0Search/Controller/Component/FilterComponent.php
  • Sentry(array)
    • Plugin(array)
      • 0Sentry/Lib/SentryErrorHandler.php
  • Story(array)
    • Config(array)
      • 0Story/Config/bootstrap.php
      • 1Story/Config/routes.php
    • Plugin(array)
      • 0Story/Lib/Routing/Route/StoryPostRouteView.php
      • 1Story/Lib/Routing/Route/StoryPostRouteIndex.php
  • StoryAdmin(array)
    • Config(array)
      • 0StoryAdmin/Config/bootstrap.php
      • 1StoryAdmin/Config/routes.php
  • User(array)
    • Behavior(array)
      • 0User/Model/Behavior/LoggingBehavior.php
  • UserAdmin(array)
    • Config(array)
      • 0UserAdmin/Config/bootstrap.php
      • 1UserAdmin/Config/routes.php