PHOTOGS WHO WORK IN DANGEROUS ENVIRONMENTS ARE JUST ADRENALIN JUNKIES – RIGHT?

PHOTO-JOURNALISTS WHO CHOOSE TO WORK IN DANGEROUS ENVIRONMENTS, ARE JUST IRRESPONSIBLE, UNETHICAL, RUBBER NECKED, AMBULANCE CHASING, MASOCHISTIC, ADRENALIN JUNKIES, WHO SEEM TO SUFFER FROM A MORBID FASCINATION OF TRAGEDY AND VIOLENCE – DISCUSS

I was at a dinner party recently, just a small one, but the host was asking me about my photography at the ‘March Against the Cuts’ on 26th March in London. I was busy describing the whole day and how ‘artistic’ I felt one my shots was, but he zeroed in on the violence that had occurred and seemed more interested as to what my motives were for getting myself involved. Maybe I was wrong, but he appeared to think that Russ and I had gone along purely because we ‘hoped’ that something would kick off that was exciting to photograph and that we got some kind of ‘buzz’ or ‘rush’ from the whole affair.

Whatever he actually meant and looking back, he was probably not deliberately trying to be challenging, I found myself feeling mildly irritated. Having one’s motives questioned was, as usual, not pleasant nor comfortable. I felt like he was classifing me with the feel of the statement above. Tarring me with the same brush!

I forgot about this minor episode fairly quickly after, but the whole issue was triggered off once again with the death of Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros in Libya. Now I didn’t know either of them, so far be it for me to postulate on what their motives actually were for being in a war zone with real flying bullets, but I have read at least a few of Mr Hetherington’s comments and then there is the body of their work that can perhaps reveal something about their intentions. What I am fairly certain of guaranteeing, to the sceptical reader, is that they both will have felt that it was extremely important to them, for them to be doing what they were doing, whilst facing the dangers of a conflict zone.

I sympathise with that. I can identify with that. And I applaud that.

However, I am dealing with the ‘sceptics’ in this blog. The ones who if asked to discuss the above statement, would merely shout, “Absofu**in’lutely true!” – And be sure about it, there seem to be plenty of those out there.

So to all of you who would doubt the motives of anybody who takes part in any occupation or pastime that appears irrational and dangerous, on behalf of all of them, I would like to say, “We don’t really care what you think and we don’t need to explain why we do it, to you!”

I’ll tell you where I happened on to this nugget of enlightenment that has been very releasing for me. I was reading a book entitled, ‘Mind Over Matter’ by Sir Ranulph Fiennes. This book is his record of the crossing of the Antarctic continent with Dr. Mike Stroud in 1990. The thing that set this trip apart from several other previous trips, was the fact that it was a totally unsupported trip and they had to man haul sledges loaded with all their supplies, (their only supplies) for the whole epic crossing. Difficult and dangerous eh? Life threatening in a hostile environment eh?

But you may be asking, why am I using this book on polar expeditions in a blog to explain and justify hostile environment photography? I’ll let Sir Ranulph set the scene and you draw the analogy.

“Why do people wish to risk their necks pursuing dangerous, uncomfortable goals? Most of us face daily obstacles but there is a great difference between having to, and wilfully choosing to.” (Mind Over Matter. Page 23. Line 1)

There he has asked the question which is really the kernel of this whole blog. And in considering the question further, he goes on to consider the motives on this issue, of his predecessor explorers.

“There is a great difference between the explanation that a person chooses to give (especially in autobiographies) and the truth. I have studied the stated motives of many of our predecessors and believed but a few.” (iBid. Page 23. Line 14)

He then examines the motives of a few, such as the likes of Scott, Shackleton and Messner. – Messner’s comment I find particularly enlightening.

“From the beginning I was against placing our adventure under the mere cloak of environmental protection. Just as I didn’t like vindicating my doings as a mountaineer with scientific aims, I found suspect those expeditions which needed an ecological justification [here Messner is having a dig at the stated motives of Swann and Steger] . . Go to the North Pole for the environment’s sake – what a laugh! A slogan but not sincere.” (iBid. Page 23. Line 20)

Then Fiennes continues on with this:

“I am not introspective and find it awkward having to dig within myself to produce pat replies. Jean-Louis Étienne was asked why he went on polar expeditions and replied, ‘Because I like it. You never ask a basketball player why he plays: it is because he enjoys it. It is like asking someone why he likes chocolate.’” (iBid. Page 27. Line 22)

And then:

“Of Scott’s men and their motives, Elspeth Huxley once wrote: ‘What persuaded these men to seek out hardships so extreme that most ordinary mortals would give all they possess to avoid them? . . . Fame and fortune . . . also love of country, lust for adventure, devotion to a cause, and more obscure forces like an urge towards martyrdom. Certainly there is a curiosity: desire to know what lies over the next hill . . . on the moon and beyond the stars. All such motives are mixed together and the analyst who tries to sort them out and label them is generally wasting his time.’” (iBid. Page 28. Line 7)

I loved the whole book, but this particular chapter’s beginning really resonated with me, when I thought about the times when I have felt that I needed to justify why I do some of the things I do. I like for instance photographing protests, where violence can potentially come from every side. Police and Protestors alike. People find this strange and demand explanations. People wonder at my aspirations to travel to various types of hostile environment, including conflict zones, in order to take photographs.

Well, people let me tell you now – I cannot explain! Why does someone like crossing the Antarctic? They just do. Why does photographing in dangerous situations appeal? It just does.

Having said that, I do have a set of goals whenever I set out to photograph anything. I also feel that every photograph I take is personally important. Of course, not to you maybe, but to me . . . to me, the inner person, each one is vital, because it makes up part of my legacy as a human being.

Think of it this way. Whilst I am here on the earth, I have a relatively short life-span, in which I could choose for instance, to spend my time in pursuits such as, sitting in front of the telly for 30 odd hours a week. But, whatever I do, I will only affect and touch relatively few people while I am alive and roughly number the same after I am dead. And that remembrance, will die out with the demise of one or two generations of family members if not sooner. Yet spend my time wrapped up in photographing ‘emotion’ . . . and ‘events’ . . . and ‘people’ . . . and ‘places’ well, you may then get my point. All of a sudden, the potential to reach and to matter for longer and to more people becomes possible, even after my death. This is not personal hubris and a vain search for immortality, but a humble, desperate need to make the life I have count for something and if that is being instrumental in giving people some kind of voice, maybe the only one they’ll ever have, then I think it’s worth it.

Tim Hetherington said he wanted to reach as many people as possible with his journalistic creativity. He has achieved that, although not to his full potential, but what he has done will continue to achieve that reach, long after his death. I want to be able to do the same. This doesn’t mean that I will deliberately place myself in the path of flying bullets, but if my journey takes me there, in the pursuit of something I believe needs to be captured and reported, then I will not hesitate.

It may seem shallow to some that one would risk so much in order to take a picture, but do not underestimate the power of a photograph. Look at Ron Haviv’s photograph of a Serb gunman about to kick a bleeding, dying woman in the head. Taken in 1992 under circumstances where he could have been immediately shot, Haviv managed to get the one photograph that epitomised the heinous atrocities perpetrated in the Balkan war by Arkan’s paramilitary group, nicknamed the Tigers. Haviv then managed to get it out of the country for publication and chillingly spent the rest of the Balkan war on Arkan’s death list

This then highlights just one of the undeniable facts about a photograph. It is an item to be feared by those engaged in dark deeds and who are subsequently illuminated by its penetrating gaze. Sounds dramatic, but it’s definitely true.

In Tony Blair’s recent autobiography, ‘The Journey’ 2010, he refers to the power of a photograph several times. The gist of one of his comments about transgressing high profile figures goes somewhat as follows;

“They want the freedom to do what they want and the freedom to do what they want to without being photographed doing it.”

I get the feeling that he was more regretful than philosophical when he was writing this, but I may be wrong. The thing is he hits the nail right on the head and by so doing has probably just recruited a new league of budding photographers who will keep their ‘glass’ eyes on the shady, dim lit areas of the world.

In what might seem a tangential change of subject, but isn’t, I also like one of the scenes in the film ‘A Knight’s Tale’ starring Heath Ledger. Paul Bettany plays the character Geoffrey Chaucer (yes the famous writer) who has (in the film) an unfortunate gambling habit and subsequently loses his clothes after a game of chance with some shady crooks. Ledger’s character pays off said crooks and Chaucer get’s his clothes back. There then follows this wonderful speech by Chaucer.

He tells them that he is going to exact his revenge. To which they scornfully reply, “What on earth could you possibly do to us?”

“I will eviscerate you in fiction. Every last pimple, every last character flaw. I was naked for a day. You will be naked for eternity.”

If you get my point, the dark powers that be, definitely think that they are beyond our reach and our ability to ‘affect’ the lofty heights on which they sit and yet there is great power in all of us to bring about change if we just think carefully about how we can use our individual skills and assets. It is in my photography that I feel that I can best express that power, however small that contribution may turn out to be. Photographers can illuminate dark areas and condemn those that seek to keep them dark. They can damn with pictures, the corrupt, self seeking, destroyers of society, human rights and true democracy, to a long lasting ignominy and infamy.

Pretty cool huh?

Of course it may prove dangerous at times, but look at what has been happening in North Africa! Who would have thought, who would have considered that such a thing could happen? Revolution against tyranny in the face of many, many flying bullets! Now that is inspiring! Thank whichever god you pray to, for their bravery in fighting oppression and the other souls who photograph such events for posterity, risking all, to honour the ones without a voice.

Anyway, I am rambling, the short answer to the premise of the above statement is, there may be some photojournalists who fit that description, but not the majority. Not the ones I know and definitely not me. I just like what I do but I can’t explain fully why. OK? But as a parting thought, beware all of you who are exploiting the peoples of the world; I will eviscerate you in photographs. Every last pimple. Every last character flaw. You will be naked for eterntity!

If I can get the exposure right of course!

Bibliography:
Mind Over Matter; Ranulph Fiennes (1993) Sinclair-Stevenson, Mandarin Paperbacks.
The Journey; Tony Blair (2010) Hutchinson
A Knight’s Tale; (2001) Columbia Pictures

March For The Alternative – London 26th March 2011

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I had decided some time ago, to attend the TUC organised march through London. This event’s purpose, was to show massive support in favour of protesting the shocking cuts brought in by the coalition government. Reports have indicated that upwards of 400,000 and perhaps as many as 500,000, took part in the march and recalling the unending column of people winding its way through London streets, I would have to say that I could well believe those estimates.

I had travelled down to London Kings Cross from Kingston upon Hull on the Friday evening. I was going early and staying over with a photographer friend, Russ. Surprisingly we didn’t bother going out for a few pints as one might expect, but decided to stay in and have a few beers and a pizza at his gaff.

It seemed like a good idea and opportunity to discuss tactics for the next day. For instance, should we try and stay together or work independently? What kit were we going to take with us? Where should we head for first? This was particularly important as with such a massive event, we wanted to be in the right place at the right time.

Our kit was an important issue too. I had bought myself a new climbing helmet that folds up and so saves space in the kit bag. (Edelrid Madillo £70) This was obviously for head injury protection from flying missiles! I also presented Russ with a new T-shirt, dark blue in colour with the words ‘PRESS PHOTOGRAPHER’ in large yellow sans serif type, front and back. A bit like FBI styling. I had these produced after the EDL protest in Luton that had taken place a few weeks before. I had been rammed from behind by a guy in black, riding a big grey charger. No it was not the black knight from Scott’s Ivanhoe. This one had a fluorescent jacket with the word ‘POLICE’ emblazoned on it! I felt that wearing a big sign proclaiming ‘PRESS PHOTOGRAPHER’, may make a police officer think twice before ‘moving me’ and if they did happen to ignore it and perhaps beat me anyway, then it would be more likely to be apparent on photographs from the day that he/she had no excuse making the claim that they didn’t know what I was!

Russ had got information that lead us to believe that it would be best to head off to the University of London Union building on Malet Street. Sure enough students were gathering with the idea of setting off at around 10:00 to join up with the main march. Russ and I had a really good cappuccino and a not so good sausage roll, in the Student Union cafe which was open to all including the 20 or so photographers who were hanging around outside.

A large group of students from Glasgow had travelled down in order to add their voices and a half dozen or so, one with a set of bagpipes, struck up a few tunes to get everyone into the spirit of things. Fortunately they appeared to have left their claymores at home. (Claymore as in sword, not as in anti-personnel mine)

As the departure time approached, more and more people gathered, including a sizeable ‘Bloc’ of black clad, masked anarchists, who at this point didn’t seem too worried about having their photograph taken. The march set off (actually after 11:00) with the usual problem of trying to stay with the front of such a gathering as you get the inevitable ‘bottle necks’ where everything moves ahead of you and trying to catch up is a real difficulty. It hadn’t taken long for Russ and me to be split up, but we kept in touch via mobile and met up a half mile or further down the route.

There then followed the usual process of trying to get some interesting images from an angle that no other photographer (including Russ!) is going to get. This is a virtual impossibility as is the chance of actually selling one of your images, but we’ll leave that issue until a later post.

We must have walked and ran many miles that day and our sight seeing took in the Houses of Parliament, Whitehall, Trafalgar Square, Oxford Street, Piccadilly, Green Park, Buckingham Palace and then the same probably, all over again. Twice more maybe! At least that is how it felt at the end of the day.

Trouble didn’t appear to start until around 14:00, when we joined up with the anarchists, who had by that time formed into a sizeable group of several hundred, maybe as many as 500. We then witnessed various small scale acts of defacement of Barclays logos on the hire pedal cycle points along the route, although they seemed primarily concerned with not becoming bottled up by the various squads of police who were driving around in convoys of police vans.

Russ, me and the ‘Bloc’ moved eventually into Piccadilly at around 14:30 with my ears still ringing from the detonation of some kind of firework aka a bomb, that had gone off just behind me. I thought that it had burst my left eardrum it was that loud. In fact these were thrown with some regularity down Piccadilly and I saw one upsetting scene of a father carrying an infant and both being bustled into a adjacent shop by police, just after one of these fireworks had gone off directly behind them. I am sure that they were probably quite traumatised by the experience.

It was this mixing of anarchists bent on violence with the general peaceful marchers and the innocent sightseers and bystanders, that probably caused the police to hesitate and show some restraint with what was to follow. To have riot police charging through crowds of the innocent in order to prevent these relatively few and yet still sizeable group of anarchists from venting their fury on their perceived symbols of riches and capitalism, was a scenario not to be countenanced.

I am sure that the police authorities were probably having nightmares in the weeks prior to this march, dreaming of the newspaper headlines that would follow in the wake of baton wielding officers smashing their way through crowds of old ladies, children and newspaper sellers.

As it happens, I admire the restraint that the officers showed. They were stalwart and steady in the face of abuse, flying paint and other less benign missiles. I saw officers covered in paint of various hues, the rivulets dripping down their faces, which several seemed to want to hide from the cameras as if they felt shamed by their apparent impotence. Imasculated by plastic bags of Dulux white emulsion.

I cannot begin to estimate the costs involved with buying new uniforms, but somwhere and someday there is going to be a very big bonfire of multi-coloured police kit. Add to that that cleaning, repairing, respraying and replacing of police vehicles and you have a massive cost that hardly alleviates the current cutting of costs to the services.

However, I divert. The police of course were not the only targets. In fact probably, they just happened to be in between the protesters and the real targets. The Banks. The Shops. The Hotels.

Santander, Lloyds, Starbucks, The Ritz. These were just some of the coroprations targeted by the anarchists. Windows smashed, doors broken open, paint flung, fireworks hurled, smokebombs thrown, spray cans sprayed. Along with of course, everything that could be picked up and used as a battering ram, considerable damage was wreaked upon these various symbols along Piccadilly.

A crowd of ever present photographers and journalists (myself and Russ included) seemed more numerous than the police. We were covered in as much paint and were assaulted by anarchist members who did not want their photograph taken to record them committing a criminal act. With my eye to the camera, I had someone cover the lens with a hand and shove me back, which not only hurt my nose, but more importantly, spoiled a really good picture. Up yours pal!

I will be returning to this issue in a later blog about the question of whether the press encourages by its presence, acts of violence and destruction. And, is that why the police also seem to dislike the press as much as the protesters? Certainly a question worth considering and one that has probably being discussed before and no doubt will be again.

Anyway, Russ and I eventually met up again and decided that a burger and chips along with a pint of orange juice and lemonade was in order. My train from Kings Cross was due to leave at 17:00 and for a moment, as I ate, I considered whether to stay another night and follow the trouble. I decided not to. Perhaps a mistake, but then again maybe I had what I wanted.

I had set out to record a national day of protest and along with that, I had happened to record some images of the nastier side. By staying later, I would probably end up with more images of the nasty stuff, which could imbalance my perceptions and recall of the actual day. I was not prepared to allow the day to be spoiled and overshadowed by that. Added to that of course was the fact that I was just plain knackered! (Pardon the vulgarity but I think it was more appropriate there).

Russ and I shook hands and I got on the Victoria line heading North. Many more former protesters, their flags hanging limply and furled now, were on the same train looking dazed and bemused. Perhaps considering whether the expense had been worth it? Would the government really listen now?

Personally, I thought ‘No!’ – So I packed my cameras away, relaxed my mind and arrived at Kings Cross to a packed station and more annoyingly, people filling up my Hull Trains carriage to capacity. One of them was a vicar from Selby though, so I played it safe and was nice to him!

All these people heading North, to be dropped off at the various points along the route. Peterborough, Grantham, Doncaster, Selby, Howden, Brough and finally Hull. The end of another interesting, historical day for all of us. One to be contempleted, dissected and analysed for years to come.

To be or not to be known as a professional photographer

I have read with interest over the past few weeks, the arguments raging back and forth on discussions regarding the term ‘Professional Photographer’ and what it means and who can use it. Add to that, the parallel debate about the ongoing degrading of revenue for people who earn their crust from photography, seemingly by everyone and their monkey’s uncle who has a camera and claims to be a ‘professional’ – and you have the makings of an endless, pointless debate going nowhere and achieving . . . well I think, precisely ‘Zip’.

I am a photographer and designer who makes his living from these artifices and so the situation does involve me and affect me too, but I have seen this type of thing before I believe it does not matter how much we shout and scream our indignation at the situation, the point is, we will not affect the eventual outcome and new reality of things one iota. Things inevitably change and there is nothing we can do to prevent that or postpone it.

As an example, let’s go back a few years. Remember lead typesetting? Well this hit the dust big style when photo-typesetting developed – which hit the dust big style when desktop publishing hit the streets and became the new kid on the block. I remember several photo-typesetters screaming and shouting abuse at the unfairness of the situation and refusing to buy a ‘Mac’ because they thought they were ‘unprofessional’ or ‘mickey mouse’. What they were doing, was sticking their heads in the sand and refusing to accept what was inevitable and change accordingly.

Traditional graphic artists and designers were doing the same thing to some extent. All they wanted to do was use felt tip pens and stick bits of paper to artboard with glue which had the added benefit of giving you a ‘high’ whilst you were using it. I know this because I worked in a studio where, when the boss made the decision to buy an Apple Mac, nobody was interested in learning and using it apart from me. I knew that pasting artwork to boards was coming to and end and adapted accordingly, but a lot of others were very slow on the uptake because of what they perceived the industry to be and what it should (in their opinion) continue to be. What happened next of course was an inevitable explosion of everyone and their monkey’s uncle, buying the kit and doing their own company newsletters and the like, with the result that a lot of work dried up for design studios and a lot of crap ended up being printed and distributed.

Things came around eventually to a certain extent with some of that business coming back to the studios, but there is no doubt that things had fundamentally changed and there was no going back to the good old days.

Next came the ‘Photoshop Effect’ and how that would affect traditional illustration and photographic techniques. What a can of worms that was going to open up. I remember working for one design studio, that had a photographic studio attached. It was well set up with film kit and the photographer was obviously experienced, but also very set in his way of doing things. I got on the wrong side of him one day, when he had been trying to photograph a laser.

Now I believe that all laser light is invisible (I’m not a scientist) until it reflects on something and his problem was trying to get the laser to show up on the final tranny. What he decided to do was switch the laser on and track the beam with a little roundel of card on a stick, whilst shooting on a long exposure. He worked all afternoon (maybe longer) on this and ended up with a shot that looked like the laser had pulsed unevenly across the film. Little red dots of light appeared every now and again across the shot, if you follow me? Anyway, I was presented with the shot in my humble job as graphic artist and I made the mistake of commenting that if he had just taken the shot without the beam, I could have dropped the effect in afterwards, in Photoshop in about five minutes! (Photoshop was still fairly new at the time) You should have seen his face! I’m sure I made an enemy that day, but it serves to illustrate that people generally do not like change when it upsets their little ‘apple cart’ that is proceeding along, seemingly so nicely.

Then we come to our main concern. The rapid changes that technology, its availability and its relative ‘cheapness’ have bought to the photographic industry. It has certainly caused radical change in my life. Whereas at one point in my career, it was an impossibility to shoot my own images for design projects, due mainly to the processing time element involved, the contraction of the process entirely to the desktop has wrought a revolution that not all are happy about. When I went ‘professional’ as a photographer 6 years ago, I heard several comments circulating about me and ‘who did I think I was?’ and ‘what did I know about photography?’, etc, etc. You get the picture. The fact was that they were refusing to accept the new reality, the new world order, where anybody and everybody was potentially empowered with a new freedom to be whatever they wanted to be.

Even now I can guarantee you that if a young person wants to get into the graphic design industry, all they have to do is forget university, forget college – just buy themselves an Apple Mac, hack the industry standard software off the internet or borrow it, stay up till 2 in the morning for a couple of months learning said software and they can get a job freelancing at £500 quid a week. I can guarantee it!

So then you hear the moans and groans of the ‘traditionally’ trained designers about standards and skills and ‘professionalism’, etc, etc. Yawn Yawn! God I am so bored of listening to that kind of drivel. – I am not saying that it is not useful or desirable to get a degree in graphic design, but I can tell you many stories of people who have got said degree but no job, whereas people who are self taught artworkers have very, very busy careers.

I quote all the above as just some examples of how stuff has changed and how it will keep on changing. Stuff is changing now in the media and how newspapers sell content. Their world is changing and that is passed on down the line. Erosion of rates for press photographers for example. ‘Joe Public’ buying his own camera and uploading shite onto websites that pay him peanuts for usage, yet he is happy to ‘sell’ an image and be a published ‘professional’ photographer. Customers demanding all RAW files from a wedding shoot so that they can develop and print the images themselves. The list goes on. The changes go on and we have to adapt, adapt, adapt!

There is no point in complaining and harking back to the good old days when a photographer was a photographer and nobody encroached on his (or her) territory.

Anyway enough is enough! I have gone on long enough about what some of the problems are. Now we need some answers. Some encouragement. A solution!

Well, here’s a suggestion as a start.

I think we need a new vernacular. A new way of describing and referring to things as they exist now in the ‘new world order’. The thing is, if we continue to refer to the new realities with the old terminology, we will continue to remain locked in the ‘same old, same old’ way of thinking which will not allow us to think beyond the box and be able to operate effectively in this new environment.

So here we go . . . First let’s get rid of the term ‘Professional’ in our photographer jargon list. It means so many things to so many people and it’s such an easy term to hijack, that it basically means nothing anymore. When everybody is ‘special’, then nobody is ‘special’ – see what I mean? (If not, watch ‘The Incredibles’)

Let’s replace it with the following;

Elect Photographer, Super Elite Photographer, Elite Photographer, Serious Photographer, Dilettante Photographer, Peripheral Photographer, Perfunctory Photographer.

Maybe you could suggest more, but this is how I see them being described and split up.

An ‘Elect Photographer’ would be a photographer beyond any criticism or question of his/her abilities or standing in the world of photography. Generally Elect Photographers may actually be dead, but if not and if one has been perceived as reaching these dizzying heights of attainment, then their word would be beyond all question and their sage advice would be sought and valued as priceless. (They would obviously have all of the qualifications of the ‘Super Elite’ – See below.)

A ‘Super Elite Photographer’ would be a photographer who could pick and choose his own projects, working with the famous, for the famous at all the best events and countries, for the best rates. He would be a ‘face’ himself, being well known for his craft. He would use all the best equipment and his ‘professionalism’ would never be questioned due to the availability of his high quality, high profile work. Someone who is a member of Magnum for instance.

An ‘Elite Photographer’ would be a photographer who makes his living from his craft, but has to work with awkward customers sometimes as he cannot pick and choose as readily as a ‘Super Elite’. He’s not well known and he has a mortgage to maintain like most other workers. But, he is skilled, ‘professional’ and proud of his craft, producing consistent, excellent work. If he is a journalist, he may end up working on non headlining assignments, but still accomplishes them with gusto. Doesn’t get the best rates, but is paid reasonably well for his services. It is obvious from his profile and visibility that he is an Elite.

A ‘Serious Photographer’ is a photographer that does what it says on the box. They are serious about the craft of photography, but do not make a living from that craft. They can be excellent photographers who spend much time and money on their interest and even make some money from selling images now and again. We could not criticise them for taking on a wedding or two because a friend has asked them. We know they’ll do a good job, but it is obvious from their profile that they are not in the Elite or Super Elite category although they could make a leap past all the financial aspects and straight into the Elect group due to their skill and vision.

A ‘Dilettante Photographer’ meanwhile is rather obviously less serious about the whole thing. Probably got a Sony Alpha and shoots on fully automatic. They enjoy taking ‘snaps’ of the family and if the weather is good and they can be bothered, then they may go out and try and find a nice picture to shoot for a Mother’s Day present for someone. Other than perhaps joining a local camera club, photography plays a definite back seat position in their lives.

A ‘Peripheral Photographer’ is someone with perhaps a compact camera, but to whom photography is purely incidental to their lives. They skirt round on the edges, not really getting involved enough to find out why they shouldn’t use flash at the naff concerts they go to. The camera is generally carried most places with them, but this is because they have heard that there is big money to be had if you are in the right area at the right time.

Finally (for now) the ‘Perfunctory Photographer’. This is the person who maybe only has a mobile phone with photo facility, but could possibly own better kit just for show. They take pictures automatically of anything that they can shove on Facebook. They are inattentive about anything to do with quality and their pictures are wooden, routine and mechanical. Unfortunately, these type of photographers (along with the Dilettantes and Peripherals) seem to be everywhere and manage to snap off a blurred shot or two of a key event, which the newspapers and news websites are all too keen to snap up due to cost saving strategies. You get the picture?

Anyway, friends, photons and citizen journalists, I think that when you categorise and describe it properly in context, you get a better idea of what the problem is and how you may get round it. First off, maintain a sense of humour. Maintain a sense of perspective. Appreciate that change will happen whether we like it or not. Accept and adapt to the new reality and take on new roles, learn new skills. Make yourself different to stand out from the crowd. Be prepared to do things differently. Let’s be the drivers and inventors of the new world, not the ones barely hanging on and being dragged along, out of control and irrelevant.

Finally, let’s love the art of photography and ignore the dross swirling around. Good work stands up for itself and is still highly valued.

And where do I see myself? I am an ‘Elite Photographer’ and I’ll fight anyone who says any different!

Entropy (The Arrow of Time)

There are times (few and far between it seems) when a collection of seemingly unrelated events and circumstances, conspire and aggregate into the much sought after and happy condition for all photographers, of experiencing a ‘burst of inspirational creativity’.

I am pleased to say that one such ‘burst’ happened for me yesterday and almost (dare I say it?) – yes I will! – almost, for a short time only . . . I considered that there might actually be someone ‘up there’ who listens to pleas of “help me find inspiration!” and actually answers these important type requests.

As you may gather, this purely emotional and irrational response, didn’t last long fortunately and soon I was back to my usual pragmatic self and analysing how best to use the quickly changing light conditions.

It happened this way.

The day started as it usually does. Drag myself out of bed around 06:30, have a look out of the window. Nice morning. Sun rising. Makes a change. Dressing gown on. Tramp upstairs to office and switch on computer, so that it can be cranking up whilst I make coffee. Tramp downstairs and make coffee. Watch news headlines. I think to myself “should be in Libya”, but of course my better half wouldn’t stand for that. “Wait until the kids are grown up!” We’ll see.

Anyway, back up stairs to check email. Shower. Make second cup of coffee. See wife and kids off to school. Plan the day. First job is to take the car to the garage for its MOT. Garage is four miles away, so how do I do this? Ask them to come and pick car up? No. Shove bike into back of car and cycle home? No. Bike is absolutely grafted in 3 inches of mud from my last cross country. It was too cold after returning home to  be bothered to clean it off. Damn! – What about taxi home? Too expensive. Bus perhaps? No. Too many people with flu like symptoms. Don’t want that. I know! I’ll walk home the long way through the countryside and try and catch up with a uni assignment by taking some photos on the way back.

I break the mould by not taking the 16-35mm zoom lens. I attach the 85mm f1.2 – this will make me focus on the job in hand!

So I drive to the garage, drop off the car and head back along a a narrow country road towards Beverley. The Minster is in view and I enjoy the crisp (bloody freezing actually) bright morning. I shoot off a few frames and hope to see a black rabbit that I saw in this very area a couple of weeks ago. No such luck and no long lens anyway. Half way down, I came across some greenhouses and thought the subject may fit the assignment. (Dividing a frame up and all that!) Fired the shutter a few times and continued on my way, literally contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and everything. Now that probably sounds corny, but I swear to you that it’s true. Anyway, a short distance on and I came across these dilapidated commercial greenhouses, long past their sell by date and normally you would not give them a second glance. I mean I have been past there dozens of times over the years and I have never given them, well, a fourtieth glance!?

This time though, I paused. I don’t know what it was I saw, but something came together in my head like a . . . like a lightbulb going off. (What a cliché!) Anyway, I fired off a couple of shots from the road, but decided to get nearer. I walked into the driveway just as a car was coming out. There was a younger woman driving whilst an older woman sat in the front passenger seat. I pulled out a business card as the older woman wound down the window.

“Good morning, I’m a photographer.

Blank stares.

I just wondered if I may take some photos of the greenhouses? – Please?”

“Well, no.” She says.

“Oh” I says.

“I won’t go inside or anything. I realise it could be dangerous.”

“Well ask my son! He’s round the back.” She says.

And drives off.

I made my way around to the back of the house and looked through the kitchen window to where two men were drinking tea. I held up my card expectantly as the two men (father and son in law?) looked at each other in silent argument as to who should get up, come to the door and see what this guy wants. The son (in law?) loses and opens the door, peering down at me from his higher level step, giving him the psychological advantage.

“Hi, I just saw your mother (I assumed he was the son) and she said to ask you if I could access the greenhouses to take some pictures.”

Blank look.

“I’m a photographer. See?” Holding up my camera.

“I won’t be long and I’ll be careful. I won’t sue anyone if I’m injured, or killed or anything. I’ve had hazardous environment training and stuff.”

(Well, I really didn’t say that last bit!)

He was still looking at me incredulously, but finally agreed to let me have access. And so I spent the next hour or so like a pig in a greenhouse, taking every effort not to get cut on broken glass, whilst taking some wonderful pictures. (Well I think so anyway.)

They really fit in with a long thought of project that just required that little spark to get it under way. I have included a few of the series below, but more can be found on my website at cannedphoto.co.uk under the ‘Entropy – Arrow of Time’ heading. See what you think.

All I can say is that I finished my walk home in a very cheerful fashion. All was right in my world. I know it may seem shallow and irrelevant, but to a photographer who gets just one image he is pleased with, he is the proverbial cat with the cream, the one eyed man in the kingdom of the blind, the fox amongst the chickens, a pig in . . . .

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EDL rally & UAF counter protest – Luton 5th February 2011

Another protest and another opportunity to photograph human emotion, which is really what it is all about for me. I think a lot of photographers go to these events in the hope that trouble may kick off and they manage to snap the violent shot from which they can make megabucks. I’d be lying if I said that it wouldn’t be nice! – The megabucks bit that is!

Indeed, to depress the shutter at exactly the right moment in precisely the right place is something that all photographers dream of, for whatever subject they are trying to capture. Whether that be a smile on someone’s face, or a moment of special light in a landscape. We all chase the perfect shot.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my story about Luton last Saturday. I decided that I would travel down from Hull, on a United Against Fascism (UAF) organised coach. We met outside the University of Hull and loaded up. Seats were supposed to be full, but only 20 or so dedicated people arrived to take the protest down south. Apparently, for some, the fight against purported fascism can be suspended in favour of getting over the hangover from the night before, or perhaps because it was raining that day and they didn’t fancy hanging around in the wet. The coach leader though was keen and didn’t appear take the lack of support personally.

From across the road, a man got out of a car that had been parked up and walked across to the coach door. He claimed to be a police officer, although showed no identification and asked the young organiser to have a word with him, which happened outside of the coach and out of my hearing. When ‘John’ (we’ll call him that to protect his identity) got back inside again, he told me that the officer had warned him that there was an English Defence League (EDL) sponsored coach ahead of us, just leaving Hull, but that we shouldn’t have any problems. I suppose if both coaches had decided to stop at the same toilet stop on the M1, then there could be have been a problem, but as it happens, some planning had gone into the occasion and nothing untoward occurred on the way down to Luton.

The nearer we got to Luton, the more coaches we began to see on the motorway. We found ourselves leapfrogging with a few EDL coaches. Several members of the party on our coach started jeering and waving at these coaches as we passed, whilst the EDL travellers in similar manner, yet with much more vehemence, pulled ‘moonies’ and even though we couldn’t hear them, left us in no doubt as to what we could do with ourselves and where they would like us go. I also got the distinct impression that we were being promised a high level of physical harm should the opportunity present itself.

All coaches were divided off between rival parties by the police and escorted in convoys into Luton to the two designated assembly areas. One for the EDL in St. George’s Square and the other for the UAF in Park Square. I left the coach and the UAF supporters on it with a promise to be back by 16:30 hours. As it was now after noon when we disembarked, I didn’t feel like I had much time to reccy the area and get the pictures I wanted. Still a lack of time can cause certain amount of creative pressure and under such pressure, I have found that the pictures can be more spontaneous and all the better for it.

I walked down to Park Square and took a few placement shots, marking that there did not seem to be many people there. Having said that, coaches were still arriving, so maybe the area would fill up. I certainly hoped so. I decided at that point to head towards the EDL meeting area and determine how far away St.Georges Square was. Not too far as it happens, yet what made it awkward, were the large police barriers sealing off certain streets and forcing me to take a circuitous route, that took me considerably longer.

I worked my way around to a meeting pointjust outside the Railway Tavern and took a few shots of people with banners and signs as they arrived. I always ask if I can shoot, if there is the opportunity. I could have just started snapping as there were plenty of police around who would have probably stepped in had there been a problem, but I have found by experience that all sides at these types of events respond better if you have a smile on your face and ask first if there is the opportunity. This goes for the EDL who are suspicious of the press, the UAF who are suspicious of anyone with a camera (at least they were at Bolton! – They were the only ones to demand to see my press pass at Bolton. Not even the police did that!) and finally it goes too for the police, who probably quite understandably are wary of people with cameras who can cause a lot of grief (and quite rightly so) if they make a mistake.

I worked my way through a tightly packed crowd of EDL supporters flanked by lines of police, all of whom were carrying riot helmets, but not wearing them. Presumably to pose a less threatening presence. I had a quick look around and decided that there were too many photographers and they had taken all of the best spots, so I walked under the rail bridge and took up a position where I would be face on the the oncoming march when it started, but would be in a relatively safe position in the middle of a small central traffic island.

I heard a roar from the crowd as it set off and a line of at least 8 police horses with riders approached from under the bridge, followed by dozens of police who were forming a ‘plug’ across the street to control the pace of the march. We were forced back quickly to keep being trampled on by horses and police and I didn’t manage to get any decent shots there. I cut my losses and made my way quickly further on down the route to find a better position. I found one and was ecstatic! It was a short pillar of steele, around 3 feet high, topped with a steel sheet, measuring about 12 inches square and just big enough to stand on. This had a normal pedestrian barrier running in front of it to give added protection from the marching crowd. None of the police officers had a problem with me standing on it and so I smugly waited for the procession to arrive. It was a good spot and I filled up a lot of pixels as the EDL ranks marched by. Some obviously did not like having their picture taken, hiding their faces and shouting abuse at me, but the general majority had no problem and were happy to play up good naturedly to the camera.

After the crowd of EDL were safely esconced in St. George’s Square, I decided to go back to the UAF and catch up on developments there. I took a few more placement shots of the increasing crowd and noticed that there was movement on the other side of the square. I don’t know what it is, maybe a sixth sense, but you get to be able to ‘feel’ that something is about to happen. I instinctively started to move and ran through the police lines, to take up position on a small wall, enclosing a planter right in front of where UAF protesters were beginning to face off against police. Apparently, as I learned afterwards, there had been a rumour that EDL supporters were attacking a mosque and this had caused the UAF to try and break out of the police lines in order to get to the mosque. It could have succeeded as the police seemed at first to be undermanned at that point, but there were not enough of the UAF and more drifted off as the police response grew stronger. I got some of my best pictures of the day at that incident. With the red flags bearing the word ‘Revolution’ flying and the horses forming a barrier to the crowd, it reminded me of images from the Russian revolution. I am looking forward to working on those images further.

I went back to St. Georges Square and stood behind the speakers platform watching the EDL crowd as they listened to an American speaker called Rabbi Shifren who was giving out his particular fiery brand of propaganda and rousing the crowd to action. All of this was being filmed by a police cameraman in the front row, presumably to be viewed at leisure, later on, to decide whether there had been any racist encitement that had broken the law and would lead to criminal charges.

Yet after this, the crowd was dismissed and allowed to break up and wander back presumably to the train station and coach park. I spoke to one guy who had approached me with I think the purpose of warning me that there were some in the crowd who quite happily give me a going over and smash my cameras. He reeked of stale beer. I know that because he insisted on talking to me directly into my face from about an inch away. Yet he was affable enough and I told him that I take pictures that try to the tell the story as it is, not as I want it to be or how I think the majority of people want it to be. Truth is the name of the game isn’t it? Or am I being naiive? I left him to his ramblings and headed back to the coach pick up point.

Would you believe it, there was another rumour about a mosque being attacked and the whole process of crowd pushing against police lines happened again! Some more good pictures here, but I was a bit pissed off with a couple of the police who took a dislike to me. From my point of view it happened this way. I was photographing a line of police, linked together and preventing protestors breaking out and presumably running off and attacking the EDL at a postcode some distance away. Unbeknown to me a policeman complete with horse was behind me and was shouting for me to move. Now I had a camera to my eye and my back to the horse, it was also very loud with many people shouting and causing a general high level of noise, so I ask in all fairness, how was I supposed to know what he wanted me to do? What do you think he did? – Perhaps move to another position so that I could see him? – No. – Perhaps get one of his colleagues on ‘Shanks’s Pony’ to enlighten me? – No. – What he decided to do was ram me with the horse! – Have you ever been rammed by a horse? Unexpectedly? Well it’s a bit of a shock. And I think for the other drifting members of the UAF who were standing around it was also a bit of a shock. There was a sharp intake of breath from them that was audible to me amidst all of that noise and several asked me if I was OK as it had appeared that the horse may have kicked me.

I was OK thankfully, although I shouted to the officer asking him why he had rammed me? He told me he’d shouted at me to move and I hadn’t. He had no answer to my observation that in all practicality how could I have possible known that it was me he was shouting at, when there were probably a 100 people in the vicinity who were more likely to being the target of any police shouting commands?! To add insult to injury, I was then ‘manhandled’ by another officer (on foot this time) who dragged me away from my post saying “Let me help you!” or words to that effect. I told him that I didn’t need any help thank you, but he insisted anyway and then when I told him I was a member of the press, he merely shouted at me to stay away and that he “knew my face”, the insinuation being that I would be arrested if I came back into his sphere of influence. In both these instances, I deny I was in the way, as the action was in front of me and I was behind the police lines who were doing very nicely by themselves thank you!

I suppose the main thing is that I and my equipment survived unscathed. However, I do wonder at the broad spectrum of police behaviour, although I must say that the majority seem to perfectly willing to be reasonable.  Do you know, I was actually offered a slice of pizza by one pleasant officer, presumably paid for from the £800,000 it cost to police the event? And they say we are going to have more protests during this time of austerity! That’s an unintended consequence of the cuts is it not?

We loaded back on to the coaches and were once again escorted and ‘whisked’ through the roads of Luton to be safely waved off at the junction with the M1. I’m sure that the people of Luton and the police were waving and cheering as we went. I reflected on the coach home, thankful to be in one piece. I had not been beaten sensless by the EDL, I had not been flattened to mush by over half a ton of horsemeat (plus rider), I had not been crushed by the UAF, battoned by police nor fallen off my precarious perch and broken an ankle. So that was good. But as I thought about it, I asked myself what had it all been about? – “Dunno!” is the short answer.

Perhaps the long answer could be – The right to march and protest and to have one’s say – and the right to counter march and protest and have one’s say – and the duty to make sure it goes off lawfully and peacefully – and the right to record and report the whole episode no matter what.

Oh what games we humans play.

EDL and UAF Protest, Bolton, March 20th 2010

I decided to go and photograph a large prearranged protest in Bolton last Saturday. The English Defence League had been planning this event for some time, although I gather that the civic leaders in Bolton were none too happy about it. They had spent the previous week trying to persuade the Home Secretary Alan Johnson to ban it. They failed. From my point of view this was good as I then had something to photograph. From a lot of other people’s point of view it was bad. The UAF (United Against Fascism) for instance, they didn’t want it. The Police didn’t want it. The people of Bolton didn’t want it. But as we live in a democracy where everyone is allowed to say what they want – so long as it is not on the growing list of things that you are not allowed to say or refer to – Alan Johnson refused to enforce a ban.

And so very early on Saturday morning, I set off in the driving rain to rendezvous with a potentially violent clash between the three opposing factions in Bolton. (EDL/UAF/Police) I parked my car just on the outskirts of the town centre and walked along Bradshawgate and then into Victoria Square, which had been effectively divided into to two areas, where it was hoped to contain and keep apart the two main groups of protesters.

I walked around the whole area for over an hour, checking the layout of the streets and possible good angles and backgrounds for images. I spoke to a few of the police – one Inspector and a Sergeant in particular, who were very helpful and pleasant. The Inspector actually agreed to ask if I could get access to the steps in front of the town hall. He specifically sought me out later on to tell me the answer was negative, but that doesn’t change the fact of how ‘public service oriented’ he wanted to be.

I started taking a few placement shots to set the scene and then moved on to the UAF side of the barrier as their supporters were arriving by this time. There was one group setting up a stand on behalf of the ‘Socialist Worker’ paper. I stopped to take a few shots at which point my NUJ Press card was demanded. I declined. This was a bad move because it proved that I was an EDL Nazi thug out to capture their pictures and post them on the Redwatch website. I know I shouldn’t have, but I took time to argue with them a little about the fact that as far as I was concerned they had no right to demand ID off me as I was in a public space, taking pictures of people who were also in a public space, exercising my rights just as they were determined to exercise their rights. This didn’t go down too well with them. Talk about paranoia! I pointed out to them that even the police had not demanded to see my Press Card (incidentally they never asked all day!) and therefore by what authority did they make such a demand in such a challenging way? I gave up! I am not as bolshy as I once was and allowed them to win the bolshy (pun intended) competition and duly flashed them a glimpse of my ID. There were far more interesting things going on than having a discussion with paranoid androids.

I moved across to a couple who were stood in front of a large Costa Coffee sign. They said they hadn’t noticed it, which led me to believe that they must have been smoking something illegal! See the photo and you’ll see what I mean. Anyway they duly held up a couple of signs painted with water colour paints to be photographed. I know they must have been water colour paints because later on when I saw them, the design had evolved into multi-coloured tears and runs. Maybe it was some kind of miraculous sign!

The rain was quite persistent and so I wandered over to the other side of the square in search of a coffee and bacon sandwich, which always seems like a good idea in such circumstances. Outside one particular cafe, around four women were stood discussing the unfolding events. I asked them for a bit of kitchen roll if they had any. Just to dry my cameras off a bit. One duly returned with a Tea Towel! What a fab piece of kit! I will never leave home without one again. Which reminds me of Douglas Adam’s ‘Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy’!

Anyway they were very helpful and served me with coffee and a large amount of bacon, sandwiched between two thick slices of white bread. I felt a bit self conscious as I normally cut my sandwiches in half, but I thought that this must be how they do it in Bolton and so I lifted the whole thing and started to work my way through it. Halfway through, the girl remembered and brought me a knife!

A bit drier and fuller, I went outside again straight into a bunch of anti nazi protesters who had been surrounded by a couple of police horses. One of the horses shied at a big red flag being waved and I felt like I had been near my first possible injury for the day as the horse came a bit too close for my comfort.

These people were gradually led across into their half of Victoria Square where the police must have upset them. I can only assumed it was the police who upset them because they had not been in their area for long, when they were trying to get out again and into the EDL area. The police of course didn’t want them to do that for obvious reasons and consequently there was a great deal of pushing, shoving and scuffling in font of the shops on the walkway between the two areas.

I can only describe it as a ‘thin fluorescent line’ holding back a mob intent on causing trouble. Fortunately I was behind the police lines and proceeded to snap away at the unfolding drama in front of me. I must say that I thought that the police were going to lose the test of strength, because at one point they were vastly outnumbered and were being forced back. However, reinforcements raced to the scene and another line at the back drew batons and raised them, waving them in the air in a threatening manner. Having said that, at no time did I see any officer lose control and strike one of the protesters. They were remarkably calm despite the situation.

The flotsam left after this skirmish looked like a jumble sale with shoes and hats all over the place. One officer told me he’d had his handcuffs stolen. Who’s the lucky lady I wondered!?

The thing I could not quite get my head around with this particular episode, was that I thought it was the EDL who were supposed to be the violent thugs out looking for trouble. And yet here we were with the EDL not even present (en masse) and the counter protesters who were proclaiming peace, homes and jobs for everyone, scuffling in the streets with the police! I have always been brought up to believe that once you start being violent, you lose the argument. Wasn’t it Voltaire who said nothing violent is intelligent? Apparently he was right.

All I can say to these people is, don’t lose the argument by being stupid and fighting with those who protect our rights and safety.

So anyway, I’m not here to judge who’s mostly to blame on one side or another am I? I’m just here to pass on my personal opinion.

Well after this little bit of action, I decided to go and see what was keeping the EDL. I hadn’t really seen them up to this point. There were one or two strange characters mooching around the UAF camp and looking out of place and I got the distinct impression that they were EDL who were on a recon mission.

The gathering point for the EDL followers was back on Bradshawgate outside (and inside) a pub, the name of which escapes me now. It was fairly rowdy but  I asked permission to take a few shots anyway, which was granted. I fired off a few frames and then moved back whilst they gathered behind a line of EDL ‘Team Leaders’. I then moved backwards in front of the mass of EDL protesters who moved through the various streets behind a line of police and then into Victoria Square.

Just pausing to contemplate though, what really struck me about these people was the shear difference in threat presence – between the EDL and the UAF that is. Now I don’t mean that in terms of the number of skinheads present or the number of pairs of Airwear boots on display. It was nothing as simple as that. All I can say is – well, I could almost physically feel the difference. This was a group of people to be reckoned with and taken very seriously. It had been ugly enough when the UAF supporters had scuffled with the police earlier on, but these people – if they had been let off the leash – well I think there could well have been a tragedy.

A pitbull against a welsh border collie I think.

With that then in mind, I was glad that there was such a strong and positive police force. 1300 officers apparently. Under no circumstances could they allow that event to get out of control or it would have become a blood bath.

In Victoria Square when the EDL finally arrived, the inevitable songs, chanting and insults started flying, along with flags from England, Wales and surprisingly Israel! There was a token swastika which had a red circle around it, bisected by a red line, as well as a token assault on the surrounding fence which seemed too strong for them.

At this point nothing really seemed to be happening on this side and so I decided to return to the UAF area to catch up with the current status there. When I finally got around, there were several arrests going down. Obviously, people were falling foul of the guys dressed in ‘starwars’ gear. Lot’s of high impact plastic body armour and stuff. Anyway one, normally attired officer decided to push me out of the way (what way? I wasn’t aware I was in the way. I am used to being ‘out of the way’) I very nearly tripped and dreaded to think about the consequences to my cameras let alone my head! I asked him why he had pushed me as I was only trying to do my job. He responded; “I pushed you for your own protection!” – Of course when I realised that, I thanked him for protecting me!

After this particular incident I was just in time to get a good shot of the UAF leader Weyman Bennett, being arrested on suspicion of conspiracy to commit violent disorder! Not a good example for the rest of the UAF supporters really.

I hung around for a while and then shadowed the EDL crowd back through the town as they were shepherded by the police. I saw a few more arrests as one or two decided that they fancied their chances with the boys in blue ‘starwars’ kits. – They didn’t win!

Finally, I stood outside of the train station watching as the crowd meekly went their separate ways back to trains or buses and cars and couldn’t help thinking that it was the police who were the winners that day. Oh, there were one or two awkward ones who must be new to their uniforms and liked to test out their new powers, but even our MPs are guilty of that now and again. – Well all the time really!

What really strikes me most looking back, is the number of sides to the argument. There are not just two. Not even three. Everybody there will have had their own version of events and the truth as it appeared to them. Mine is just one of them. It’s recorded in pictures. Nearly 900 of them. You can find them and buy them from cannedphoto.com

Enjoy!