ARTIST'S PORTRAITS

Photographing LIFE FORCE

Steven Pinker, a Harvard scholar, wrote a book called the Better Angels of Our Nature. Hard as it is to digest his conclusions, it is clear from his research that, even in the face of the last century's horrors and the continuing present brutality which many live within and suffer from, that since the Enlightenment, the world continues to become less violent: this is not an apology for Gaza, nor for any of the other 31 wars happening across the Globe.

There is no sweetness in this for those who suffer and no comfort for the rest of us who, like Rilke reminds us*, feel other's pain is also ours. The nemesis of this horror is culture, and more precisely art, and even more precisely, beauty. Those who are dedicated to creating works which transform our souls, that re-engage us with the better angels of our nature, help to turn themselves and others away from violence. I have no faith in politics, in religion or in gods but only in the human soul examined, explained and soothed by beauty, which is what artists offer us.

The above relates to a dream of mine as a teenage photographer. I dreamt to live a life surrounded by painters, poets, composers, actors, directors and musicians. To a degree it has happened, and I am delighted.

I have often been paid for portraits to for book covers or magazine stories, but for me that has been less important than to be able to give my gifts of pictures to poor or as usual, underpaid, artists. A part of that pleasure is that I have been able to provide some with portraits and their lives engaged in their work. In return I have received great cultural richness.

For various reasons I am short of words this week but want to share some of these photographs of artists.

Portrait of Frankie Howerd, actor and comedian, in my studio in the early 1980’s.

This is here as a comparison between a commercially assigned portrait and those taken of various artists involved in cultural productions which I photograph in completely uncontrolled conditions.

Mr Howerd was strangely nervous yet open and charming. But placing someone in a white space with large bright lights in front of a stranger’s camera is an entirely different matter than photographing artists in their own environments. The other clear difference is that in that in a commercial situation, sitters know they need to project the audience view of who they are. In other words, their true selves are often disguised behind a layer of public relation’s recipes.

Graham Treacher, conductor and composer in his room overlooking the sea, working on a composition.

Andrew Goldberg, pianist and composer during a rehearsal with his usual intensity and brilliant playing. This is an example of an experienced studio photographer/DOP (me) making use of two ungainly lights on location.

Zangi, a musician, composer and singer, skilled in leading unformed groups into creating beautiful anthemic songs as well as leading audiences into joy with his rich musical skills.

Ricky Romain playing at a festival, considered by many to be the best white sitar player in the UK, as well as one of the country’s great contemporary painters.

Marcel Becker, double bass player for the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and one of the UK’s experts in playing Klezmer, concentrating on his instrument as he plays a beautiful piece.

David Glass, performer and one of the great contemporary European theatre innovators. The sheer dynamism is a wonder.

Tina Ellen Lee, creative director of Opera Circus and The Complete Freedom of Truth, making a point but more importantly, carrying people towards using the arts to progressively change society.

There are many other performers, poets, musicians, and artists I could include, but for the moment, being short of words this week, I wanted you to enjoy and appreciate how rich an area it is to photograph the life force of artists.

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This is the poem by Rilke referred to above.

SOLEUM HOUR
Whoever now weeps somewhere in the world,
weeps without reason in the world,
weeps over me.

Whoever now laughs somewhere in the night,
laughs without reason in the night,
laughs at me.

Whoever now wanders somewhere in the world,
wanders without reason out in the world,
wanders toward me.

Whoever now dies somewhere in the world,
dies without reason in the world,
looks at me.