All posts filed under: Portraits

Book Review: An Inner Silence.

Book review Title: An Inner Silence: The Portraits of Henri Cartier-Bresson. Authors:  Forward by Agnes Sire. Introduction by Jean-Luc-Nancy. Publisher: Thames and Hudson. 181A High Holborn. London WC1V 7QX. ISBN: 0-500-54317-8. The book draws images from the  permanent holdings of the Collection of the Foundation Henri Cartier-Bresson. The book generously features 97 tritone reproductions of Cartier-Bresson’s works. “The true portrait, (is) one in which the subject represented is not caught in any action, and does not even show any expression that might detract from the person themselves…” …writes Agnes Sire the curator. That clear phrase captures the essence of Cartier-Bresson’s portraiture. There is a naturalness to the images together with a deceptive ease. The images are not contrived, neither does the sitter fill the frame. No, the subjects are generally in their own apartments, galleries, studios etc, which become part of the image; frames them if you like, and so becomes as much of the portrait as the sitter. I don’t know if the sitters were posed and directed. I suspect not. They may well …

Vibrant art in Lincoln Gallery.

An exhibition of picture by the artist Jacob Lawson opened in the Sam Scorer Gallery in Lincoln this week. It’s hard to believe this is Jacob’s first show. What is not hard to believe is the work is strong, strident and selling well, The first images were snapped up by a buyer from Germany. This is a must see show. Be ready for an overload for the eye. If there is one criticism it would be there is simply too much. Go to see if you can. The show is open until 4pm on the 22nd December. You can find information about Jacob, his work and the gallery here… Sam Scorer Gallery. Lincoln   PDBarton. Lincoln, 16th December 2019.  

Add perspective into your life.

In her own words. One woman’s life, and what a lesson it is for us all. “I am not sure of my exact year of birth but I think I should be around 66 or 67 years old.  I was born around here, near Dharamsala,  and lost my mother as a child, I was raised by my stepmother. Later I was married at the age of 15. I lost my husband at the age of 24, to some unknown sickness due to stomach pain.  I moved back to Dharamsala from my inlaws place after the death of my husband as I faced a lot of problems and was not wanted there. I sold off whatever little farmland I had and I bought a small piece of land and built a mud hut in Gamru village (quite close to Mona, the doll makers studio) as till I was 24 I could work on the farm but after my husbands death it became difficult to farm, tend to cattle and take care of the girls as I had …

I can’t move the sun, and it’s always in the wrong place

I’m going to start this piece by declaring that, at no time in my life have I ever been a trainspotter or engine enthusiast. No, it’s not that particular obsession which feeds my appreciation of the technical ability and art of O. Winston Link – who? Ogle Winston Link  (1914 – 2001) was an American photographer, originally from Brooklyn, New York City. Introduced to photography as a boy by his father, Link went on to achieve a degree in Civil Engineering. Whilst at the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn he served as ‘photo editor’ for the institutes’ newspaper. He later moved into photography proper. Link had a longstanding love of railroads (probably resulting from his training as a Civil Engineer), particularly steam, which became sharply focused by the impending conversion of the railroads to Diesel power in the mid-’50s. Link became heavily involved with the Norfolk and Western Railway (N&W) one of the last steam railroads in America. Link’s work was self-financed, though he was encouraged by N&W officials from the President of the railroad downward. …

Skin Heads. Birmingham, ’70’s/’80’s

Recently, I was trying to decide on a picture to put in place at home. Knowing Sue, my wife likes this image I decided on this. It was taken at Cannon Hill Park, Birmingham in the late ’70s, maybe very early ’80s. It shows two of a group of Skin Heads standing on the Waltzers, a fairground ride at the ‘Tulip Festival’.  Both are wearing tight Levi jeans and ‘Doc Marten’ boots, one with a ‘Ben Sherman’ check shirt and with a ‘Crombie style’ overcoat over. And each, of course with the required shaved head haircut, Various pins and badges are worn on the lapels, one being a Nazi Swastika. On occasion, wrongly I’ve printed it without the badge. I print it here without any editing – as I believe it should be. The image portrayed by the skinheads is underlined by the “Love and Hate” tattoo across the knuckles of each hand further enhancing the anarchic, hard man ‘Fuck you’  image they choose to put out. It is a picture of its time reflecting, as it …

What am I doing this year?

This year sees me working on a number of long term projects plus anything which attracts my attention. I started the year with some additions to the “My fellow passengers” blog where people on local transport grab my attention and I make a picture. I shall have to see where this takes me this year. Lincoln. January. 2019.

Lincoln Steam Punk Festival 2018

Each year the ancient city of Lincoln in the East Midlands of England hosts the “Steam Punk Festival”. I’ve been visiting for some years now and the event has grown and grown. Thousands now attend, even from overseas. This year the numbers far exceeded anything I have seen before. There are some astonishing outfits created by the devotees in which they parade around the top end of the city, near to the castle and the cathedral. Those who are dressed in the most exceptional, outrageous even, outfits can hardly move for photographers who buzz around them, most with medium to long lenses. My choice is one camera and one lens, a short lens at that, so I have to get close. For example, this girl was deservedly mobbed. Quite astounding style and technical ability. This man was dressed as a Pirate, complete with a wooden leg. I asked if he had the leg strapped up. He said “I have no legs at all. Even the other is fake”. I saw a bus being filled with …