Book review.

Click to see on Amazon – I get no click-through payment.

This came along as a welcome gift to my photography book library. When it comes to the bad boy British photographers of the Swinging Sixties, the names you hear most often are Donovan, Duffy and Bailey. But a fourth, with a claim to having been there, is Terry O’Neill, whose pictures of the famous and near-famous are reproduced here.

In a typically well written essay introducing the book, A. A. Gill (who did sterling writing in the Sunday Times before the Dirty Digger came along) summarizes it nicely. Fame, he writes, is haute couture whereas Celebrity is ready to wear.

Some of these pictures leave me cold because given the natural beauty of their subjects it’s quite literally true to say that anyone could do it. I mean, can you imagine taking an ugly picture of Catherine Zeta-Jones, for example? Heck, even if you were a complete klutz, she wouldn’t let you.

But there are others which get through and show insights to the subjects’ characters that are quite fascinating, with perhaps the best being the cover picture, above. There’s a fine one of Roger Daltrey trying to act the land baron and not quite succeeding. It’s tough when, as Pete Townshend once described him, you are just ‘a sheet metal worker from Shepherd’s Bush’. One more poignant is of Tom Jones back in his Welsh coal town, ridiculously overdressed with a huge Rolls Royce. Sad. I wonder if he was in on the cruel joke? One even more moving is of an old Marlene Dietrich (German, yes, but the sheer number of GIs she slept with testifies that she was on our side), emerging from the side curtains onto the stage like a chrysalis becoming a butterfly. A pretty old and past-it butterfly, in her case, but extra points for trying. Another well observed one is of Faye Dunaway, O’Neill’s spouse at the time, on the morning after winning the Oscar, replete with silk gown and Beverly Hills Hotel pool. (Dunaway was a Celebrity; Bailey went one better, marrying Catherine Deneuve who was, and remains, Famous).

It’s a fun book, a confection which occasionally gets you thinking. Was O’Neill a great photographer. No. The fame of his subjects rubs off, but too rarely does his work show the sort of insight common to the terrible trio mentioned above.

There’s a video of O’Neill sounding disillusioned and preaching how digital is not ‘real photography’ which you can see, in lieu of watching the kettle boil, by clicking below. (Refresh your browser window if it’s not visible below):

Photographer to the Stars.

On the cover – Joan Crawford and Franchot Tone. Click the image.

George Hurrell’s star shone brightest when the Hollywood studio system was in full flow. Stars may not have made the extraordinary compensation packages of today and, indeed, their long term contracts pretty much made them indentured servants to the studio bosses, but they had regular work and who would argue that today’s movies are better?

I was reminded of this splendid book when setting up the lights for our son’s tenth birthday session, and surprised to find I had never mentioned it here. The boom light used on the hair is pure Hurrell, and you will see its effect in almost every picture in the book. I have had this book in my collection for years and it’s still in print, though my Scottish gene reminds me that I almost certainly bought it at a remaindered price.

Highly recommended not just for Hurrell’s tremendous skill with lighting – and we are talking large plate cameras here – but also because of the many memorable images of stars of the golden age of Hollywood. My favourite is Loretta Young – a face of quite exceptional beauty.

The placement of the subject under the boom light is critical with the relatively small light sources used today. Hurrell used enormous light boxes which gave off a broad soft beam, making placement of the subject easier. With small strobes, if your subject is as much as an inch or two too far back the face will wash out into a ghastly death mask. I make things easier for Winston by marking the placement of his toes on the ground with tape, once the right position is determined. The cover photograph, above, interestingly uses the single boom light only, to superb effect.

Another great English photographer.

Click the image to go to Amazon US.

That fine English photographer Roy Hammans mentioned John Blakemore’s new book to me the other day and no more encouragement was needed to wave my credit card in Amazon’s direction.

Blakemore, born in 1936, has gone through several styles in his photographic life, starting with street work in London’s poorer areas (very moving), through theater, landscapes (excellent wind effect pictures) and still lives (see the cover, above), always finding something new and fresh in his approach.

The quality of the book’s production speaks to the photographer’s fastidiousness and perfectionism, the mostly monochrome prints rendered slightly warm to great effect. There is also some limited color content, original and beautifully reproduced.

This book is an example of what high quality photography books should be like. If you like the contemplative approach to these subjects, rendered with originality, this book is strongly recommended.

A book by Banksy.

I confess I adore Banksy’s graffiti work, not just for the powerful message but also because, like much street snapping, it has ephemeral appeal.

So when a friend mentioned his book ‘Wall and Piece’ I snapped up a copy. Like Banksy’s ethos, it’s cheap and abundantly illustrated.

Click for the Amazon US site. A poor illustration – the terrorist is actually throwing a bunch of flowers …. on the rear cover.

One of the funniest things is that he not only states how long it took to make many of the pieces – not long as he uses spray paint and stencils to reduce the risk of detection – he also adds how long those in art museums survived before the curators cottoned on to the hoax. In some cases that’s many weeks. Perhaps his finest comment, painted on the gutter outside the Tate, states ‘Mind the Crap’. This, let us recall, is the museum which gave us a crucifix in a pool of urine named ‘Piss Christ’.

His immense commercial success must give him pause for thought, given his Marxist pronouncements, but who could possibly argue with the following sentiment?

“Any advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It belongs to you. It’s yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. Asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head.” He refers to this collectively as ‘Brandalism’.

As for the close of the book, his Manifesto, I won’t spoil it other than to say that this one page where he illustrates his beliefs is of such shattering intensity that it will leave you limp and in tears. The book is worth buying for these few words alone.

Banksy is a photographer by circumstance. His graffiti don’t last long so he is forced to record them for posterity.

A great artist.

Banksy does San Francisco – at Columbus Avenue and the Bankster building. G1, kit lens @34mm, 1/3200, f/5.5, ISO320.