How to take photographs when driving on a motorway.

There are many ways to go about this, but the best way is to pass the camera to your passenger. Obviously.

Looks Familiar.

If you look like one of your parents, you must tire of the "you look just like your mother" greeting made by each new acquaintance. Predictably, it's exactly what issued forth from me when I went to photograph novelist Anna Stothard (above). Her second novel, The Pink Hotel, is being published by Alma Books next March, and is loosely based on her experience of living in LA for two years.
A few years back I photographed Anna's mother (also a writer), Sally Emerson, so apologies for the foot in mouth comment (perhaps understandable), and good luck with The Pink Hotel.

A Visit to an Artist

I can't be alone in relishing a visit to an artist's studio, especially one as interesting as Jean-Claude Courat's studio in Paris.
Jean-Claude's pastel pictures of all things horticultural are exquisite and his skill is self evident. I love his chosen subject matter, vegetables, allotments, trees, even tin sheds.
And who could resist an artist with such a twinkle in his eye?







His pictures remind me of many of the gardens I visit, and the attention to detail is fantastic.











It's not just the work that appeals though. Like many artists, Jean-Claude is an avid collector, and some of his collections litter both his apartment and studio.











Jean-Claude is also a fine photographer, but it is interesting to note that his paintings are composites of places and things he has seen and stitched together in his mind. They are not painted from photographs, and not even a hint of Photoshop, as he still shoots on film on his 35mm and 6x6 cameras.





Huge thanks to Jinny Blom who organised the trip and wrote about it in this month's Gardens Illustrated Magazine (October 2010) where you can find Jean-Claude's contact details.

Prayer Time.

Churches, by and large, don't appeal to me in an architectural sense. It may have something to do with being made to attend on Sundays, or it just might be down to all those pointy victorian gothic bits that festoon so many.

But I love wriggly tin as many others do, so when the two combine, all is well. I admit, it's not strictly speaking a church (rather, a chapel) but it has an appeal and charm that hits the spot.

Brazil and Suffolk.

The two sculptors I met earlier today from very different parts of the world. I was introduced to Brazilian Carina Ciscato (above) some time ago, and have seen her work in a number of collections. Her web site is here. Two examples follow.












We then gatecrashed the studio of Annie Turner, from Suffolk, photographed here with some fishing net. She was brought up on the River Deben in Suffolk, and the many aspects of the river inform her work. The piece shown here is about a foot high.










Lastly, a picture of the studio dog of Carina the lovely Chamo (I wish I could do that with MY ears):

They think it's all over (2)

And for some, it is.

HCB said that once he'd pressed the shutter, that was the end of it as far as he was concerned (though the plethora of books of his photographs might indicate otherwise). What about you? Is the shutter going clunk only the beginning? Of course many photographers process their own digital images. But do you yearn to see the image used, preferably somewhere public? Best even on a giant billboard somewhere? Or on the cover of a magazine? Or is that it for you?

Pull up a sandbag.... I used to love printing my own negs, though only in b&w. It was in the darkroom that I felt a 'real' photographer, or at least a complete one. I don't get the same experience from sitting in front of Photoshop, but this isn't "I wish we were back in the old days" daydream, because I adore digital photography too.

It seems that photographers (I hate the slang togs) fall into two broad Camps: those that belong to the one where the taking of the picture is the final act, and the other where it is only the beginning. Actually, I think there's a third Camp that just want to talk about the kit, and sod the actual act of photography, but let's disregard them here.

If I shoot for a client, the end for me is really when the shutter trips, though I have an academic interest in seeing the published choice. I'd love to ask them why they didn't use my favourite frame if that's the case, but I know my place. Today I found out that a novelist I had photographed earlier in the year lobbied the editor of the magazine I was shooting for, begging for such and such a shot not to be used. He got his way.

All sorts of influences are at work in a final frame choice, that we as photographers are rarely privy to. I clearly remember discovering for the first time that the picture editor (picture commissioner in effect) who received my carefully crafted images did NOT make the final decision. That was left to a features editor. I couldn't believe it. I soon got over it, that's the publishing world. And why shouldn't the editor have the final say?

I used to fantasise of a an environment where the art director and photographer worked hand in hand to decide what should be shot, and which images used. It happened, infrequently, but the death knell seemed to be the reduction of easy access to the office, made more and more difficult with increased security measures (I'm thinking of newspapers in the early 1990s). And also the work load. Then, at least one had to turn up with the film, process it, and hand the edits to the picture editor in person. Now, it's sent by ftp. (Is there anyone from across the water who thinks ftp stands for something other than file transfer protocol?)
Is this a bad thing? Does it matter that art director and photographer seldom meet over the lightbox? I think it's a shame it doesn't happen, but most magazine staff will tell you that if they had the time for it they would spend more time collaborating. And do busy photographers have time for face to face photo editing either? If you photograph gardens how much interaction is there with the person writing about the garden? Are you both there on the same day? Did you know that they were going to write about the irises more than the grasses? (You did photograph the irises didn't you?) Bear in mind that this is the editorial world.

Just to round this up, I've thought of a Camp Four, those that love looking at photographs (their own and others) more than taking them, but who also take them for a living. And does one take a photograph or make one?

(Photo shows playwright John Patrick Shanley. Photographers choice of frame.)

Aisle or Window sir?

Thank you to the lovely KLM staff (and no doubt the good Doctor) for asking if, as a frequent flyer (news to me), I'd like a couple of seats to myself with spare legroom.

Scared (sacred?) Crows

Not a Guy Fawkes in sight as enterprising parents dream up ever more ways of keeping their children occupied during the summer holidays. What's wrong with a two week Scripture Union camp anyway?

This scarecrow competition produced some very creative figures, including no less than the Tiger Woods effigy, complete with legs sticking out of a golf bag.

Dear Bill,

Why do you and I photograph people? Or, why have we chosen to shoot people, over interiors, or gardens, or still life?

Most subjects seem to fall into two groups. One, with a story to tell (and they tell it) , and the other without (or they aren't sharing the tale). I'm reminded of it having met Ted Simon, who famously motorbiked around the world in the 1970s and wrote Jupiter's Travels as a result. Quite a story to tell, and well worth reading the account. The bit I liked best is when he's endlessly asked why he's making the journey; to which he replies:

"to find out why I'm making the journey".

Doesn't that remind you about Gary Winogrand who was asked why he photographed things, to which he replied:

"I photograph to see what the world looks like in photographs."

And isn't that true? Nail on head stuff.

I was reminded again when I arrived to photograph a well known writer, in her South London flat recently. I had barely introduced myself before I was blasted with a diatribe about how useless photographers were, how absurd it was that her publisher had dared to send me to shoot her, and how I was bound to fail at my task. How is one meant to respond to a subject who seems determined to thwart one's best efforts? Anyone sensible might be inclined to say well sod it then, with that attitude you're right, and I won't waste time trying..... But there's another (higher) consideration, and that is the publisher is expecting to get a lovely portrait; so one swallows hard, and unpacks the gear. Actually William, I expect you're like me and enjoy a challenge, even when the challenge looks as if it has reversed through a hedge backwards in the last five minutes and has an attitude to rival Naomi's.

I've only once been seriously close to walking out on a shoot, but the subject beat me to it. Without doubt the most unpleasant person I've had to photograph, and it put me off celebrity chefs for a long time. A shame, because I photographed Richard Corrigan last year who was utterly charming and affable.

I don't mind listening to the story either. We should relish the opportunity. After all, the shoot is about the subject, we're mere spectators with a job to record the teller. Rarely has a tale been dull, even when it was the same as the last time I heard it. At The Telegraph, the same subjects used to come round every five years or so, sometimes more frequently. Everyones story is worth listening to, an invitation to look through the looking glass.

The most interesting story I've heard? I'll let you know soon. (Remind me, it's the Hitler youth story.)

And lastly, aren't you bored of zoom lenses? So irritating the way they suck dust into the camera. I have a love hate relationship with the blasted things, and much prefer fixed focal length lenses, but then you need to carry endless numbers of cameras around with you. Or get an assistant to carry them. What's the answer?

African Reportage

I couldn't resist a rare invitation to produce some reportage which found me shooting in rural Kenya, well away from the usual tourist trail.

KEMRI (Kenyan Medical Research Institute) was researching rural health centres, and we spent the day photographing day to day life in a range of small health clinics. Some had only one health worker and a handful of patients, others had a full and hectic workload.

Patients sometimes had a round trip of 20 kms to attend a clinic from their home, with no transport available; bad enough when you’re fit and well, quite awful when you are unwell. In the west, we are forever being made aware of the problems of HIV/Aids in sub-Saharan Africa, though the ‘old’ problems of TB and malaria are still a major health threat.

In each location, we were welcomed with much generosity, and good humour. When I told people I had come from England, almost all them brought up the name of Wayne Rooney. That is what ‘England’ means to many in the country, where English football is followed closely. These schoolboys were appalled that I didn't know which club he played for.

For those attending health centres much of the time is spent waiting, and waiting and waiting.

Churches, wriggly tin and a Peugeot 504SR

Enough to keep a smile on my face for days on end. For some, a trip to the East Africa can't happen often enough. The last time I ventured south, furry paper was still being used. Now, the mobile phone coverage is enough to shame many parts of the UK. Safaricom would knock the pants off most UK phone operators. Ok, so a bit of 'tin' nostalgia and old cars still rolling is food for the visual soul, but other aspects of life in Kenya have evolved way beyond my recognition.
More to follow later on the reason for the trip.

Paris in the Spring, Mark 1.

Oh dear. Good in one sense, to see that motorcyclists in France suffer from White Van Man idiots just as we do here. But the way the French scooter riders ride! They make our chaps look a tad tame in comparison.

Paris in the Spring. Mark 2.

Should you photograph a garden from a ladder? I'm not convinced. By doing so, you present a view that mere mortals would never see.
What if it looks better from a ladder? A garden is designed for people to work rest and play in. There's little to say that gardens are best enjoyed from the top of a ladder. There's even less evidence to show that garden owners are forever popping to the top of their ladders to enjoy their gardens.

Everything in photography is 'manipulated' to some extent, from what the photographer includes/crops out, to the light (often artificial), to the choice of lens and so on. But let's get some semblance of honesty here. Why not shoot the garden as a person (or child) would see it; from ground level? At least that would reduce the "it doesn't look like that in the brochure" comments. Some idiot once said that the photograph never lies. Just for the record, here's a shot of me, on a ladder, photographing a garden. It's a self portrait, honest!

Jardin Jardins

Champagne house Laurent Perrier sent me to photograph Jinny Blom's sculpture which was exhibited at the French Garden Show Jardins Jardins. Inspired by seeds (no doubt hugely influenced by my seed photography) these large pods dominated the location in the Tuileries Garden in central Paris. The work was in great company too, as one had to pass Henry Moore's reclining figure (1951) to reach the Laurent Perrier stand.
This was the first time I had worked for this company in France. Zut alors! They looked after us like no other client has got near to. There's a serious point here. Many Continental Europeans have a very healthy attitude (along with a lot of Americans) towards photography, and by association, photographers. If we went even half way towards where these others are, our profession would be a far jollier place to work in.

Vests

I was always made to wear one as a child at school, no doubt they were compulsory "in those days". But at some stage of growing up, they became deeply uncool for me. They still persist, though the sight of a string vest on a building site is indeed rare, no doubt because it's covered up by a high visibility vest. So, there's progress, string vests usurped by high vis versions. Why not bet me a date by when we all have to wear high vis vests, just to venture out side.......

Summer Days

Mean some early starts to get on location for sunrise. For once, the roads are clear, and travel times shorten to something sensible. I know of at least one photographer who camps in his camper van next to the shoot, in order to arrive promptly for photography. Maybe that's the way to do it....










It's also a chance to stand alone in the countryside, listening to just the animals and birds, without the intrusion of human generated noise. I really don't miss the emergency sirens that endlessly surround us here in South London.