random conversations #10

Me: So what do you think? Do you have to be friends with the people you photograph?

L: Course not. You have to be neutral. If you end up being friends with the people you photograph, then it's just life style photography of you hanging out with your mates or your family or your child and you don't want to mess them up by showing them in a bad light. The end result is more of the same-old same-old.

Me: So what if you don't like the people you're photographing?

L: If you don't like the people you're photographing everything just becomes a pain and a drag. And you jeapordise your integrity in a different way.

Me: But loads of great pictures are made by people who don't like the people they're photographing.

L: Such as?

Me: I dunno. Robert Frank?

L: It's the other way round. The people Frank was photographing didn't like him. That's completely different. People like Frank and the good street photographers antagonised their subjects just because of who they where - that's why they got all those good pictures of people staring at them looking antagonised. The meaning of good street photography is people looking pissed off. Isn't that why you like Mark Cohen and Bruce Gilden so much. The whimsical shit with happy people is just whimsical shit. Unless it's Winogrand, then it's not whimsy.

Me: How about stuff like Larry Fink. He didn't like the rich people in Social Graces.

L: But it shows too much. He's bringing his own agenda to the table and lays it on a bit too thick for my liking.

Me: Not thick enough for mine. Don't you think that we need more photographers who are antagonistic to what they photograph, who crank it up?

L: It depends what they're being antagonistic towards. I don't see too much antagonism in anyone's photographs. Mostly I hear people trying to be respectful and not stereotype what they photograph. Or being neutral which is even worse. Nobody is bringing anything to the table except in a lame concerned photography kind of way - or there doing the hipster let's get as semi-naked as your exhibitionism allows shit. I see lots of people trying to be friendly to their subjects - you know, the homeless, the poor and the like. Trying to show how much they understand them, trying to put the positive spin on something that isn't really positive...

Me: And you think they shouldn't?

L: It's not that I think they shouldn't, it's just that it's really rather tiresome. I wish people wouldn't try to be friends with the people they photographed, because then all you're going to do is get out there and go to people who are friendly and kind and don't do any harm - so the poor, disenfranchised victims of the world. And it becomes victim photography with a big Evil Wrongdoer who is never shown but is always there. The Concerned Photographer Bogeyman. Well if there is a bogeyman, why not go out and photograph him. I wish photographers would have fewer social skills and rub people up the wrong way more.

Me: Fewer social skills? You pulling my chain?

L: No. Photographers should be searching out the bullies, the thieves, the liars and the powerful and showing them up for what they are.

Me: What, like the paparazzi.

L: Yes, but with different subjects. Less of the celebrity on the bread and circuses ride, more the hidden power.

Me: People do that already.

L: Mmm, so they say, but I mean really hit the spot of getting at the evil and powerful. If only to offset the constant demonisation of the poor, the fair and the just.

Me: But what if photographers are the rich and powerful.

L: That's part of the problem.

Me: So it's back to street photographers antagonising the passers by.

L: That's it. What do you think anyway?

Me: I don't know. I've forgotten. What were we talking about?

L: Your favourite biscuits. Top 5. Jaffa Cakes not allowed.

Random Conversations #9 - Positive Depictions

D: I want to show the positive side of asylum seekers..

Me: The positive side?

D: It's important to have positive depictions - to show that they aren't all sitting around on benefits being depressed and watching tv..

Me: And what happened?

D: Well, it was disheartening. There weren't many positive depictions to show.

Me: What do you mean by positive depictions?

D: Well, I wanted to show them doing normal things and being being happyand not just sitting at home watching TV and being depressed.

Me: But...

D: The problem was they weren't doing normal things or being happy. They just sat at home watching TV being depressed.And smoking. When they had the money.

Me: So who did you photograph?

D: Asylum seekers.

Me: Yes, but who are they? What are their stories?

D: There's all sorts. Most of them are lovely, but another problem is I don't really like some of them.

Me: Why's that a problem?

D: Because I think that I should. If I was compassionate I would like them all. Don't get me wrong, I like most of them but I just can't get on with everybody. Some of the guys  are just horrible.

Me: As with everybody.

D: I suppose so, but it doesn't feel that way. The other problem is that some of them shouldn't really be here. They are the ones who got out of their country because of connections and money. They drive around in cars their uncles bought them.

Me: You're sounding like the Daily Mail here.

D: It's true for some of them. They're never going to contribute anything.

Me: Same as with everyone.

D: Maybe and I suppose that's just a few of them. But the biggest problem is it's just so depressing most of the time. The ones who should be here are depressed beyond belief and have experienced all these terrible things that defy human understanding. It's hard to see anything positive in that.

Me: What are their stories?

D: Well, there was one guy from Iraq. All his immediate family  had been killed, he thought he was going to be next, so he came to England overland. So now he's in this flat getting £40 a week to live on, half of which he spends on fags. And all he does is sit there depressed, worrying about what's going to happen to him.

Me: What is going to happen to him?

D: I don't know. He's waiting for his claim to go through. He's in this limbo where nothing is happening. He's got stomach ulcers from the stress of it all. He thinks he's going to get sent back and he doesn't trust anyone. He can't sleep at night and he's on all these antidepressants.And he will get sent back and he shouldn't be sent back.

Me: Why don't you photograph that?

D: Because it's not positive.

Me: Why does it have to be positive? There's nothing positive about what he's going through.

D: But I want the project to be positive. There are loads of negative portrayals of asylum seekers.

Me: Truthful can be positive and I think you have to be truthful about what these people are going through, you have to look at the good and the bad. And if it's all bad, then that's part of the story. And it sounds to me like it's all bad.

 D: Oh it's not all bad. He's actually a really nice guy.

Me: So isn't that positive?

D: I don't know. Is it? Do you have to be positive to be positive?

Random Conversations #8 - The Man

I: Is Jack Black the Man?


Me: Definitely not?

I: Does he work for the man?

Me: Sometimes, yes.

I: Is David Cameron the Man?

Me: He wants to be the Man and sometimes he thinks he's the Man, but he's not. But he does work for the Man. He is a slave to the Man. The thing is the Man doesn't really exist, but just thinking of him kind of makes him exist. Some people think they're the Man...

I: Like Simon Cowell.

Me: Exactly like Simon Cowell.

I: But he's not the Man, is he?

Me: Not even close..

I: He's not important enough to be the Man. Does Wayne Rooney work for the Man?

Me: Yes, but he doesn't know it.

I: How about you? Do you work for the Man?

Me: Depends on the job. When I'm teaching I kind of half work for the Man. All teachers have to work for the Man a bit, especially when filling in forms

I: How about when you're taking pictures? Do photographers work for the Man?

Me: Depends on how much money they make? The more money they make, the more they work for the Man. The less they make, the less they work for the Man - but the more they want to work for the Man. Most of the time anyway. On the sly.

I: So you don't work for the Man?

Me: No.

I: Good for you, dad. I'm not going to work for the Man when I grow up.

Me: No, no, no!

(conversation continues for another 20 minutes)

Random Conversations #7 - Exotic England

K: Sure I like it, but I want to know why you like it.

Me: Because the pictures don't look like other people's pictures of England. They don't even look like other pictures from the early eighties which was when they were taken. They don't really look like poor people pictures either. They look different.

K: Is looking different enough though?

Me: No, not really. It's more than that. The backstory of how Killip came to do the project is brilliant for a start - a kind of case study in documentary photography chickens coming home to roost in a good way. He went down to the beach where all these people were collecting coal from the sea - hence the title of the book, Seacoal - and and was just blown away by how medieval it all was. But when the coal collectors saw him, they told him to fuck off. They thought he was from the DHSS and was spying on them. So he fucked off and thought I'm not going there again.

Then a couple of years later he thought, what the heck, let's give it another go. And they told him to fuck off again - and charged him with the horse and carts they used to carry the coal. So he decided to go to where they drank and ask them again. So he went to the pub where they drank, walked through the door and the pub fell silent. Everyone stared at him. Then he told them what he wanted to do. Then they told him to fuck off. so he was just about to fuck off again, when a man walked in and said, hold on, do you remember me. Killip didn't remember him but the man, who was called Brian, remembered Killip taking his picture at a horse fair a few years before. And that's how the Seacoal pictures started. Killip stayed in a caravan on the beach for 14 months on and off and made his Seacoal photographs. .

K: Great back story but what about the pictures.

Me: They just look so bleak and raw, bleak in a way that no other pictures look bleak. And nobody is even noticing Killip half the time so everything is quiet and natural but with this harsh edge. Even when people are noticing him and posing, there is something very human about the faces. Not downtrodden even though the life looks tough. And not noble either. And the faces are kind of hard and soft at the same time, but always, always set against this beach where the pebbles are coal and you can almost see the wind and the cold, you can almost smell the salt blowing in from the east.

K: Sounds kind of exotic to me.

Me: No it's not.


K: But it doesn't exist anymore, this landscape and this community.

Me: No. Perhaps that's part of what makes it so good.

K: That it's rare, that it can't be photographed again.

Me: Yes. It's more than that but that's a part of it.

K: Sounds exotic to me.

Me: Well it's not.

K: But it's rare.

Me: Yes.

K: Does something have to be rare to be good?

Me: Uh?

K: I mean in photography, if something common and anybody can photograph it, then it can't really be anything special, can it? It becomes generic then.

Me: The way you're putting it, yes..

K: So something good has to have a rarity value. Like those giant pinhole pictures or the ones made with the massive camera.

Me: Up to a point yes,

K: Or Chris Killip's Seacoal because nobody else photographed it and it doesn't exist anymore?

Me: Maybe?

K: Which is rare. And so exotic.

Me: No, I don't think so. They're different.

K: Alright then. I suppose everybody loves Killip, don't they.

Me: Pretty much, yes.

K: You sure it's not a case of you liking him because everybody likes him.

Me: Absolutely not. He's properly good. And Seacoal is properly good.

K: I'll believe you. Let's watch some telly. What's on?

Me: Ooh, second part of the new Adam Curtis thing is on at 9. Excellent!

Random Conversations #6: Photographers are Conservative

L: It seems to me that photography people are very individualist really.

Me: I don't think so.

L: I do. Going off on your own all over the place with a camera to photograph people. On your own, with nobody else, drifting by, drinking and smoking and hanging out with a camera round your neck and shooting off a couple of rolls or whatever the digital term is now. It doesn't really matter if it's street, war, documentary, commercial or fashion. That's what it's all about really. Getting into your own little world.

Me: Not everyone does it on their own.

L: No, but then if they don't do it on their own, if they have a crew and gear, then what is the point of having a still camera. I mean, who's the guy I'm thinking of?

Me: Gregory Crewdson.

L: Yeah, that's the one. The big shoots out in the suburbs with the large format camera. Has he moved on to films yet?

Me: I don't know what he's doing now.

L: Well never mind then. My point is every photographer who isn't a bit of a loner, a bit isolated...

Me: A bit serial killer profile?

L: Exactly; quiet, on the spectrum, wouldn't hurt a fly, but underneath... ?. Anyway, if you're not like- and you're successful  you move on to films don't you. It's the natural progression. Forget about all that audio slideshow stuff you're always going on about. You make the big jump. Why go still when you can make movies? That's what all the good photographers do isn't it. But they can do it because they aren't loners. It's only the ones who can't really work with other people that stay with still cameras.

Me: I'm not sure I'm with you on that. What about Robert Frank?

L: Well exactly. Could he work with other people? I don't know - seems to me like a classic individualist who liked hanging out and smoking and drinking! And not only are photographers individualist, you're also incredibly conservative.

Me: Er, don't think so. Photographers are just about as left-leaning as you can get.

L: You like to think so, of course you do, but photographers are driven almost exclusively by their own selfish needs. In an ideal world, you'd do what you want, go where you want, photograph what you want, manipulate people into believing its in their own interests for this to happen -  destroy the environment in the process and then pretend that you're doing it for the sake of mankind. And when anything goes against you then you raise all these self-serving arguments about ethics which really only prove my point even more; reactionary and conservative

Me: That's just nonsense.


L: How much do photographers work together? How often do you undercut each other's prices? Or work for free? And if you're talking press or paparazzi, what are those media scrums or agency promotions other than the survival of the fittest in its most brutal form? And all those competitions and portfolio reviews you're always moaning about. Anyway, who did you vote for in the last election?

Me: Who I voted for doesn't prove anything!

L: Does too, Tory Boy!

random conversations #5: keeping it local

O: Why do you think I should keep it local?

Me: Because then you are photographing what you really know and care about. You understand the people around you and the places they live in. You know where they're coming from, you can position the complexities of life and see where everything fits in. You can tell a story and the story will have some basis in the social, environmental and cultural worlds that surround you.

O: But what if you don't know anything about the place around you?

Me: Well you should. You have to know where you come from before you can start talking about where other people come from. I just read a book about Saudi Arabia and I discovered that the guys who wear cords around their headdress is a sign of camel herding and being a Bedouin, and if you don't have a cord that's a sign of being a crazy Salafist. Every Saudi is going to know a million things like that but I don't have a clue. Think of somewhere like Egypt or Libya. You had all these photographers going over there and they didn't know the first thing about the place. They didn't speak the language, they didn't know the politics or what clothes people wear, they might have a superficial understanding of the country but that's about it. Did they know what businesses the Mubarak family owned or the commercial interests of different intelligence services, who the main opposition was last year, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, who was in jail and who wasn't, who owned the taxis who had been co-opted and who hadn't. If you don't know all this stuff, the kind of stuff the average Egyptian would know without even thinking, then how can you understand what is happening in front of you. That's why you need to know what is happening in front of you first, so you can go somewhere else.

O: But what about if where you live is really boring and you're not interested in it?

Me: Nowhere is boring and  you should be interested in it. And if you're not interested, you need to cultivate an interest. Everything is as interesting as you make it.

O: Is it?  What if you just can't be bothered?

Me: You have to be bothered. You can't go round in life just not being bothered?

O: Are you interested in where you live?

Me: Er...

O: There you go. You're not interested are you. Same as me. I bet you think all the people are the same, that the middle-class conformity annoys you, that you can't stand all the selfish-what-school-will-I-send-them to conversations. You know the kind of thing. I can see from your face that I'm right. I am right, aren't I.

Me: Yes, but that's different.

O: No, it's not. You should take more of an interest. Get involved, join the community, form a group, be part of the Big Society. If you can't be arsed to do that, why should I be arsed to do it. Why should I care about where I live? I don't want to photograph my house and my neighbours and my family. I want to get as far away as possible from England and go somewhere hot, where they have palm trees and the sea's hot. That's why I want to do photography, not to stay in some drab English town and photograph the tedium and undramatic squalor. If I'm going to photograph squalor, I want full-on really squalid squalor - squalor that smells. I want to photograph the exciting and the exotic, to go somewhere where the women are gorgeous and sexy and dance in the streets, where people scream and shout and celebrate, where they live their lives with love and passion and drama and emotion. I want to go somewhere with great weather and great food, where the beer is cheap and everybody is uninhibited and free and they have cool festivals where there are animals running in the streets and horses and everyone  wears crazy clothes. And loads of fish. To eat and in the sea.

Me: No such place exists.

O: Maybe, but it exists less in England than it does almost anywhere else. Now where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world to photograph? Weston-Super-Mare?