On Portrait Photography: a Review and some Comments

("Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize 2015": visited 14 November 2015)
(British Journal of Photography, "Portrait Edition", December 2015)

Throughout my photographic studies I have been dogged by two problems, which refuse to go away. Firstly I have always believed that every project that I work on and every piece of work that I produce has to have a purpose. From a photographic viewpoint the purpose may be as simple as producing an image that has (for my eyes, at least) aesthetic appeal or as complex as working on a photo book that expresses, through text and images, general or specific environmental concerns. Secondly I have never been interested in introducing “posed” portrait photography into my practice.  The only posed shots that I take are of family and friends when on holiday or for special occasions. However, as I read the British Journal of Photography (BJP) and visit graduate exhibitions I feel that, on both counts, I’m in a minority. Every issue of the BJP carries a high proportion of posed portraits and the December 2015 issue was given over to portrait photography. Many of the portrait photographs and projects described in every issue appear to have, at best, superficial purpose and have apparently been created as “art for art’s sake”. The adjective “playful” is sometimes used to describe this work, which for me carries very little aesthetic appeal.

My partner and I visit the Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize exhibition every year. Whereas the portraits in BJP represent contemporary and “cutting edge” approaches to the genre, Taylor Wessing claims to promote the very best in both traditional and contemporary portrait photography. As I embark on a major project that will of necessity involve the use of old family portraits I wondered if I could learn anything from contemporary portraiture, as represented by the BJP and Taylor Wessing, that I could feed into my own practice. I also wondered whether, by studying the portraits, I could overcome what many might view as a somewhat jaundiced view of contemporary portrait photography.

Taylor Wessing

Let’s start with the Taylor Wessing exhibition. Of the thousands of portrait entries submitted for this, apparently the most prestigious photographic portrait competition in the world, just 50 (including the first to fourth prize winners) were included in the exhibition. I assume, therefore, that this was the “Crème de la crème” of portrait photography. Considering the group as a whole, one thing became very clear: the sitter(s) must not be allowed to smile when having their portrait taken! Only one photograph showed a smiling subject: I’ll come back to that later. Typical of the group was the winning portrait, by David Stewart, of five young women, including his daughter (Image 1).

Image 1 (David Stewart)

This 2014 photograph is one of a pair, taken six years apart, of the same five girls/ladies. Since only the contemporary image of the pair is exhibited, the visual impact of seeing how six years of growing up and changing lifestyles has impacted on the subjects is lost. It is true that the coffee cups and ubiquitous mobile phones tell a story, but the generally glum expressions and the way in which the two girls on the right are looking in a different direction to the others result in what, for me, is a rather cool and detached photograph – not my winner! Elsewhere, there is the usual collection of celebrity photographs (the Obamas look great, but would the image of Benedict Cumberbatch have been included in the exhibition if he had been an unknown, or am I missing the point?).

The National Portrait Gallery has a new head of photography, Phillip Prodger, and one or two changes have been made for this year’s exhibition. A few photographers have been allowed to exhibit two or (in one case) three photographs from larger series, so that the stories behind the portraits can be better understood. However, there are also single photographs from what I know to be large projects. These photographs don’t seem to be particularly strong of their own accord and I struggle to understand how they can be seen as winning entries. Babies feature too – here the props become important because babies can’t be told to smile, scowl or look in a particular direction. Predictably there are also traditional portraits of people who are part of a recent or ongoing crisis situation, such as refugees fleeing conflict in the Middle East. Is a photograph of a refugee more worthy of success than one of a citizen who has never been in a war zone?

My own, probably naïve point of view is that an outstanding portrait should go beyond mere technical excellence and tell us something about the subject(s); their personalities, their situation, their aspirations. If we have to be told the background to the photograph through text on a separate panel in order to understand its origin and meaning then surely the image has, at best, only partly succeeded. For this reason I would have selected the only image of a truly happy, smiling subject, the young Ugandan boy in Mark Chivers’ excellent classroom photograph (Image 2), as my winner. The other pupils’ expressions, as well as the charts on the classroom wall and the desks, tell the story and do this with a smile. What’s wrong with photographs that make you feel uplifted?

Image 2 (Mark Chivers)

British Journal of Photography (BJP)

When is a portrait not a portrait? The December 2015 issue of BJP features portrait images in which the subject’s face has been obscured, hidden, defaced or completely removed. The editor comments that a wealth of suitable projects had been found for this issue – “maybe because…..photographers and curators have become interested in portraits that do something different”. I guess that this is the driving force behind photographic art – the necessity to go in new directions and to try something different. Unfortunately not every new idea works. Some will go down blind alleys and, whilst each of the featured projects clearly impressed the BJP team, many failed to impress me.

On the positive side, Jack Davison’s obscured or defaced portraits (see Image 3) are full of imagination, have atmosphere and aesthetic appeal. Robin Hammond’s photographs of Lesbian and Gay people, living in countries where they could be persecuted or even executed simply because they are found to be practicing homosexuals, show their faces hidden out of necessity.

Image 3 (Jack Davison)

Other featured projects offer less justification for the faces being obscured and Eric Kessels’ discarded beach photographs (Image 4) reach new heights as non-portraits. Polaroids produced by another photographer, in each of which circles have been cut out to remove the sitters’ faces (apparently in order to attach the resultant circular prints to badges) are, to say the least, rather bizarre. Apparently in the absence of the faces (and, in many cases, most of the torso and arms) the viewer is forced to look at and make sense of the subject’s surroundings. I just stared at the white circles: perhaps I lack the sense of humour to appreciate this “playful” series – which was published by Kessels as a book, part of a bigger series called “In Almost Every Picture”. In a BJP interview Kessels asks: “what is the end of the photograph?” I think that I know the answer.

Image 4 (Eric Kessels)

All is not lost, however. Jean-Francois Leroy, founder and director of the “Visa Pour L’image” festival, apparently holds similar views to my own. In a heated discussion at the festival, reported in BJP, he is quoted as saying that portraits can be “a lazy way to tell a story” and that “I’m tired of seeing series where each sitter is interchangeable. What do the faces of 25 earthquake victims, tsunami survivors or Syrian refugees tell me about the situation they find themselves in? Nothing. Collecting individual tales does not tell a collective story”. I agree. He highlights how Steve McCurry’s famous portrait, Afghan Girl, “strikes like a punch would. It stands out, moves you and makes you think. However, had McCurry produced a series of 50 portraits she would not have been as remarkable”. Leroy is talking about photojournalism here, but I believe that his comments could be applied to other genres. He mentions that he is supportive of series, such as Robin Hammond’s (see above), which “breathe sincerity and commitment”. BJP summarises Leroy’s views as:  “illustrative and systematic portraits, bad; stirring one-offs, particularly in the context of a wider story, good. It’s an unfashionable perspective, and one that may come across to some as retrograde….” I guess that this last comment sums up my own views on portrait photography as well: unfashionably retrograde.

Sadly, I cannot say that the portraits discussed here have changed my views about portrait photography or photography in general, although Jack Davison’s work (for example Image 3) is thought-provoking and may be of relevance to my current project. It is, however, pleasing to know that a small minority in the world of photographic art, such as Jean-Francois Leroy, hold similar views to my own.

"Lee Miller - A Woman's War"

(The Imperial War Museum, London, 8 November 2015)

She was raped at the age of 7, spotted by Conde Nast and became a top fashion model in the USA in her early twenties, moved to Paris where she mixed with the Surrealists (she was Man Ray’s muse and partner and was painted by Picasso), became a fashion and then a war photographer, posed in Hitler’s bathtub on the day he died, witnessed the horrors of German death camps and the wreckage of Eastern Europe in the immediate aftermath of war, became an alcoholic, suffered from depression and then re-invented herself as an early “celebrity chef”, becoming one of the first people to use microwave ovens for cooking. It can fairly be said that Lee Miller (1907-1977) did not lead a normal existence – indeed, her life screams out for a Hollywood biopic and at the time of writing (November 2015) I hear that one is in the offing, with Kate Winslet in the leading role.

What made Lee Miller’s life so special and why am I writing this review? To answer the first question one needs to look at her self-portraits (for example Image 1). She was very beautiful and, with a rich although damaged background and a feisty yet humorous personality she was always going to “make waves”. Her move to Paris and subsequent liaison with the Surrealists in the exciting inter-war period provided her with excellent contacts and her work with Man Ray provided the opportunity to train for a life behind, as opposed to in front of the lens. She had talent and ambition and, as a consequence of her moving to England to be with her lover and ultimately husband, the Surrealist painter Roland Penrose, together with the outbreak of World War two, she also had the opportunity to forge a career, firstly as a fashion photographer and later as a war photographer. It is her photographs, many depicting women in uniform during the war, which I came to see.

Image 1: Lee Miller - Self-portrait (c 1932)

Whilst the exhibition covers Lee Miller’s life in some detail until shortly after the Second World War it concentrates on her photographic contribution during the war years and, in particular, her photographs of women and their roles in the armed forces, whilst the men were away fighting. Whilst this is perfectly understandable for an exhibition at the Imperial War Museum it is curated in such a way that we are being enlightened about the subjects in front of the lens, rather than the photographer. There is little said about her technique or artistry. The composition of the images is rarely commented upon and we learn little about her methods (including the occasional use of “solarisation”, a technique that she learned whilst working with Man Ray), cameras, printing and developing. However, we are given plenty of fascinating biographical information about Lee Miller the person as we move through the exhibition.

The prints show Miller to be a highly competent and occasionally inspired photographer of people, ranging from fashion models to the ordinary women involved in the war effort. She also had a great eye for the surreal and found humour in many places – this is particularly noticeable in the book “Grim Glory Under Fire”, a photo book in which, for example, a jagged hole in a pane of glass is compared to the shape of “Mr Therm”, a fictitious character in an advertising campaign. Her photographs of female workers, apparently un-posed but likely posed, usually seem to consist of groups of four and work well as a composition.

Tiring of her role on the “home front”, Miller wanted to see war action. Taking inspiration from the American war photographer Margaret Bourke-White she pushed hard to become a war photo-journalist. Despite many setbacks on account of her gender she landed in Normandy in July 1944 and, although never at the front line, she photographed and wrote about the liberation of Europe and its aftermath during the following 18 months. It was during this time that her photographs appeared to reach new creative heights, whether it was photographing the horrors of Buchenwald and Dachau, recording the retribution in France against perceived collaborators, looting Hitler’s home on the day that he died or photographing the material and human wreckage in countries, such as Austria and Hungary, that had been Germany’s allies. One of many poignant and powerful images taken during this period shows the opera singer Irmgard Seefried singing an aria from “Madame Butterfly” in the ruins of the Vienna Opera House (Image 2).

Image 2 (Lee Miller: 1945)

It is likely that her experience of the horrors of war and its aftermath led to the alcoholism and depression, but we can’t be sure. After the near break-up of her marriage to Penrose she gave birth to their son in 1948 and lived in relative obscurity for the rest of her life, her photographic career over. She apparently never talked about the war. I am left with far more questions than answers: would she have become a professional photographer if we hadn’t gone to war? If so, would she have stuck to fashion photography or broadened her interests? Might she have become fashion editor of Vogue, the magazine that she worked for through most of the war years? Might she have become a Surrealist photographer, like Dora Maar? Lee Miller leaves behind a huge legacy and I can’t wait for that biopic to appear!

 I spent nearly two hours in the exhibition and thoroughly enjoyed it. I learnt little that would be of direct use for my project work but learnt a lot about Lee Miller and about how photojournalism in extreme conditions can both inspire and destroy.

"Uncertain States": 2015 Photographic Exhibition

(Mile End Art Pavilion, London, 7 November 2015)

“Uncertain States” is a loose collaborative group of over 100 writers, artists and academics, based in the London area, which publishes and distributes a quarterly broadsheet newspaper showing “lens-based art”, holds monthly talks and organises and curates an annual exhibition of its contributors’ work. Its shared purpose is defined as “to support the creative process, both of others and ourselves, to offer a platform of exposure for work to a wider audience and to be part of the ongoing dialogue of what photography is today……..in short, to be a flagship for contemporary British photography.” The collective includes a number of staff from my partner’s college, the Cass School of Art (part of London Metropolitan University). We visited the annual exhibition and I also picked up the latest quarterly magazine (number 24).

The exhibition features the output of 50 artists, whose work could loosely be described as photographic art. Pinhole cameras, scratched surfaces, early printmaking processes, self-portraiture of various kinds and rarely used techniques feature heavily in an exhibition of what might reasonably be described as “cutting edge” photographic art, of the type that is beloved by the British Journal of Photography. Having said that, many of these artists may be exploring new directions that will reach dead ends and “cutting edge” does not necessarily imply high quality. Nevertheless, I was interested in exploring the concepts behind some of the work and how those concepts were being or had been realized.

To describe the work as being of variable quality would be to suggest that I have a deep understanding of contemporary photographic art, which of course is not the case. Suffice it to say that a lot of the work (in particular the experimentation with new and old camera techniques and cameras) left me cold. Other work I actively disliked and I failed to grasp many of the concepts behind the works (if, indeed, the works were based on a concept at all). A lot of the prints were described in flowery language, either in the artists’ statements or the accompanying catalogue guide. I have selected a couple of anonymous examples (from many) below:

“Home represents the autobiographical self, the picture that everybody builds of him or herself. It is the image that we establish and develop over time: a continuous reshaping of the past which has either been lived in actuality, or lived in the imagination through other stories or images…..”

“My intent is to bewilder the viewer, engendering a sense of disbelief and hence unsettle our accepted sense of reality. With my work I aim to alter the view of the ordinary by emphasising its creative essence, adding a new visual experience by shifting our awareness, so that we look what (sic) goes unnoticed.”

Are we meant to take these statements seriously, or is this just a ruse to confuse and bewilder the viewer / reader and force them into believing that the artist has a much more profound view of life than they do? This type of hyperbole is all too common in the world of contemporary art: in my view it is an attempt by the artist (or journalist or reviewer) to hide the lack of a concept or a clear objective for their work behind a screen of verbal drivel.

Notwithstanding this criticism, which applies to many other scenarios in the world of contemporary photographic art, I did find some art that was visually attractive, some that was thought-provoking and some that was of relevance to my own work.

Victoria Kovalenko

Kovalenko’s work consisted of a single composite picture, produced by joining together about 100 smaller prints in order to depict the Palio horse race in Siena (Image 1). She mentions David Hockney as being a creator of this style of photography, which she refers to as “joiner” photography, although I have seen several examples by other well-known artists, in particular David Mach. The end-product has a “cubist” feel to it. More importantly, it is a style that allows us to watch stages of an event (in this case including the 90-second race itself) in a single “frame”. The end-product is a visually stunning, aesthetically pleasing picture and yet, perhaps uniquely in this exhibition, there is no originality at all in its production. I welcomed its inclusion here, but wondered about its relevance to the other work.

Image 1 (Victoria Kovalenko)

Francesca Centioni

Whilst Kovalenko’s work was visually very attractive, Centioni’s photo-collage (Image 2) was far less appealing. Nevertheless, her style of leaving space between some of the photographic prints and composites was thought-provoking and might be of value to my own work. One of the ideas that I’ve had for a while is to deliberately blank out sections of either a single or composite image, leaving an image that requires the viewer to think about how and / or why the remaining elements are connected or juxtaposed. On a less serious note I was impressed by how she had managed to incorporate one of the worst wildlife photographs that I’ve ever seen (of a seagull) into her work!

Image 2 (Francesca Centioni)

Robin Grierson

I found Robin Grierson’s work both visually attractive and thought-provoking. His prints relate to a gentleman, John Laidlaw, who lived alone in a house adjacent to a colliery in Durham. He was a bit of a character, a “loner” who nevertheless seems to have acted as a sort of father figure to the local youth, including the artist. John was knocked off his bike by a car and killed at around the same time as the colliery closed, in 1988. The story is poignant and I can certainly identify with John’s character (like me, he apparently studied chemistry at University, but he had a mental breakdown and didn’t finish his course – I did). However, his story is nothing without the images, which are “double exposures” featuring (I presume) archival footage of John, together with landscapes from (again presumably) the Durham area (see Image 3). The end-products have atmosphere and provoke a sense of loss, exactly what I want the images from the project that I am about to embark on to have. I will definitely be finding out more about this work.

Image 3 (Robin Grierson)

“Uncertain States” features work by photographic artists, many of whom probably have full time jobs and may have little time to devote to their art. It is hardly surprising therefore that some of the featured work lacks the quality that would be found, say, in an exhibition at the “Photographers’ Gallery”. I have voiced criticism in the review that some of the work, and some of the accompanying text, is pretentious although the exhibition is far from unique in this regard.

Nevertheless, there is some work to enjoy here and there are a few thought-provoking projects. One of my main reasons for visiting photography exhibitions is to generate ideas for my own work and, from that point of view, the visit was successful. I will certainly look more closely at the work of Robin Grierson, whose project was by some way the most interesting one for me.

Are Photographs Indestructible?

I recently went to see the film “Suffragette”. The Suffragettes used direct action in order to press their claims for suffrage and were not above creating wanton destruction. During their campaign one lady, Mary Richardson, slashed a famous painting by Velasquez, “The Rokeby Venus”, with an axe. Thankfully the painting could be restored and it can still be seen at the National Gallery. However, many other paintings have been lost, stolen or damaged beyond repair by fire or wartime bombing. Each painting is unique and can never be replaced. Paintings may take days, weeks or months to produce but can be destroyed in seconds.

In contrast, photographic prints can be replaced provided the negative, slide or, in more recent times, the image is still available. It is true that a print produced, say, in the 1850s will be of far greater value than any reproduction but it can, nevertheless, be replaced provided the negative has been preserved in a good state. Today, provided the photographer does not accidentally or deliberately delete their original image, it can be cloned many times, backed up or altered whilst retaining the original, unaltered image. Most photographs are produced in a split second. They can be accidentally or deliberately destroyed even more quickly by pressing a button, but once downloaded they can be distributed to literally millions of people via the internet. In this case the “genie has been let out of the bottle” and it will be impossible to ever remove all the clones of the image from existence.

Paintings, too, can be reproduced in a two dimensional form by photographing them. Indeed, one of the earliest professional uses of the camera was to photograph collections of art in museums and galleries, so that a faithful record of the painting’s appearance could be made. If the painting was subsequently lost or destroyed we would at least have a faithful reproduction (in black and white until the middle of the last century) of its subject matter, preserved for posterity.

The photograph is now ever-present. We use our mobile phones and I-pads to produce and instantly distribute our photographs. However, because they are ubiquitous they have no monetary value. Only a tiny handful of photographs have value. These are either works produced by well-known art photographers such as Gursky, as well as acknowledged experts in their particular genres, or images of important events captured at the “decisive moment” by photojournalists. On the other hand paintings and other works of art that have been collected by museums and galleries invariably have value. Not only are they unique and not reproducible but they have a texture, a history and an allure that is beyond the reach of the photograph.

Once they have been copied and circulated digital images (today’s photographs) can become indestructible. However, their value, if any, is purely emotional. As in any other field of art only a tiny number of photographs will become acknowledged as masterpieces – the rest will just continually expand to fill all available digital space.

"Gathered Leaves - Photographs by Alec Soth"

(Media Space, The Science Museum, London, 10 October 2015)

Regarded as one of the world’s leading art photographers, the American Alec Soth takes on major projects, often lasting for years, documenting the “American Way”. His work captures aspects of the open road, the vast landscapes of his home country and, most importantly, the lengths and breadths of humanity.

This retrospective captures work from four of his major projects: “Sleeping by the Missisippi” (2004), “Niagara” (2006), “Broken Manual” (2010) and his most recent endeavour, “Songbook” (2015). Additional to his printed photographs are notes and memorabilia relating to these projects and a film that narrates the journey that he took to produce “Broken Manual”.

The exhibition is curated to chronicle his four major works, in the order that they were produced. Soth uses a large format camera and I was immediately struck by the wealth of detail that was captured in his prints. He appears to be equally comfortable in a wide range of genres although people, of all types, dominate his work. “Sleeping by the Missisippi” takes Soth on a 2,000 mile road (or river) trip along the “Big Muddy”, seeking out interesting human characters along the way. “Niagara” takes an in-depth look at a place of “spectacular suicides and affordable honeymoons”. Thankfully, far more of the latter than of the former are present in his story. The photos speak of a hotch-potch of ways of life, being reminiscent to me of the work of Robert Frank and Martin Parr.

For me the exhibition really came to life when viewing the photographs from “Broken Manual”. Here, Soth took off to search for hermits, recluses and lone survivalists within the vast American wilderness. His subjects ranged from the harmless to the psychopathic and he clearly needed to have his wits about him to survive one or two events with his camera intact and photographs “in the bag”. His experiences during the production of this project were graphically illustrated by a captivating film that was playing on a loop just outside the “Media Space” gallery. The film gave considerable insight into the methods that Soth uses to create his images and was, for me, the highlight of the exhibition. Some of the photographs of the recluses, in the wilderness environment, were also memorable (for example, see Image 1).

Image 1 (Alec Soth)

The exhibition concludes with images from Soth’s recently completed project, “Songbook”. Travelling with writer Brad Zellar in the guises of a photographer and journalist working for a suburban newspaper, the pair visited four states looking for stories with a nostalgic feel. Many of the resulting portraits are of older people, living out their lives as they have done for years, unchanged in a world dominated today by social media. The nostalgia is heightened by Soth’s use of monochrome, which works really well. The title of his work refers to the American Songbook, a loose collection of musical works from the times of Irving Berlin and Cole Porter, and the work is intended to have a corresponding rhythm. To some extent the images speak of the slow death of community in modern day America and there is a sense of pathos about many of them, but there is also humour. Occasionally the rhythm is broken by something more upbeat, such as the aerial shot of a man walking across the courtyard at the Facebook headquarters (Image 2), a rather ironic nod to the present in the context of the rest of his work, but a stand-out image in its own right.

Image 2 (Alec Soth)

Alec Soth’s images provide a beguiling and reflective look at small town America and its inhabitants. Whilst his technical mastery of the medium of photography is obvious it is the way that his images can, as a set, provoke feelings such as a sense of pathos, disquiet and sadness that sets him apart from other photographers. The use of film to show how he went about producing the images for one of his projects, “Broken Manual”, offers a rewarding, if rather worrying insight into how a master photographer goes about creating his images.

In order to understand how to produce individual or sets of images that create atmosphere and produce emotion I could learn a lot by studying the output of Alec Soth in greater detail. This exhibition gives a very good insight into his work.