Gallery visit: Baily's Stardust, National Portait Gallery

I went along to see David Baily’s Stardust exhibition at the National Portrait gallery earlier this week. I went because I sort of felt that I ought to.  I like photographing people; DB is one of the most, if not the most, successful British portrait photographers during the second half of last century.  Certainly, he is iconic and huge in terms of status and reputation: an almost mythological figure that grew out of the legendary 60s, and who took photographs of extraordinary characters such as the Crays, Jean Shrimpton, Twiggi, along with pretty much every single rock star spawned during that iconic decade. 

I looked forward to the exhibition but was also somewhat uneasy about the whole celebrity angle.  I’m not all that interested in fame as such, although of course, these figures are beguiling and compelling regardless.  It would probably be tricky to find a passport snap of Kate Moss uninteresting, never mind David Baily’s beautiful portraits of her.  Perhaps that’s what troubles me - the fact that we are (read I am) so easily drawn into stories and fables about people we don’t really know, people who seem so exciting, untouchable and unreal, but who are ultimately just human beings like anyone else.  And even though Baily and some of his subjects see and are aware of the ‘absurdity and poignancy of the human condition[1]’ I find the current obsession with focusing on and attempting to emulate such people irritating at best but otherwise an immensely destructive and shallow part of our collective culture.   I’m not the only one as the following description of Baily’s thoughts on his portraiture indicate he sees the work as,‘[2]a subtle mixture of subjectivity and objectivity, and (with) an understanding that images of glamorous individuals were potentially both powerful and empty”.

Contemporary criticism was a little more scathing: [3]Malcolm Muggeridge, for the Observer, said “The camera, the most characteristic and sinister innovation of our time, has ushered in – perhaps, better, crystalised – a religion of narcissism of which photographers such as Mr. Baily are high priests.”

It’s difficult not to see Mr. Muggridge’s words as reactionary, somewhat old fashioned and a little extreme especially when you compare David Baily’s extraordinarily well-crafted work with today’s tsunami of blurry and wobbly selfies, but perhaps there is something about his alarm worth considering, if only about the direction of our society.  I have just read Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbells book The Narcissism Epidemic, which focuses mainly on American culture but is relevant to all Western culture to a greater or lesser extent, and argues that today’s rampant culturally indoctrinated narcissism (my son declares “I am Awesome" under his handle on his twitter account and thinks this is normal) started in the late ‘60s/early ‘70s: [4]“The American flag of self admiration slowly began to unfurl in the 1960s.” and “By the 1970’s the communal goals of the ‘60s had dissipated and only the gaudy, empty shell of self-focus remained.”

It is of course unfair in retrospect to see David Baily as the high priest of any cultural narcissistic malaise especially as he seems to explore, question and critique the phenomena rather than merely celebrate it.  Nevertheless meandering around a room filled with enormous images of famous faces made me feel a little disconnected and empty as I wondered what I was going to talk about for this blog entry.  Even the more anthropological images didn’t grab my attention and I’m fascinated by most things ethnography related.

Happily, I learnt that David Baily is about a great deal more than celebrity and I was soon made aware of this during my visit.  My interest was sparked when I entered the room where his family portraits are displayed.  These are in the main of Catherine Baily, his wife and muse since the early 80s, but include many of his children too.  Certainly any of the photographs of pregnancy and the birth are appealing but then such scenes always make me emotional.  What was so powerful about this family’s collection was that there were so many of them, placed seemingly sporadically (unlike the uniformity of images in the other rooms), small and large and if I remember correctly mostly in black and white.  There were images of tiny newborns being held by older siblings, and his wife in the act of giving birth along with a picture of her just yelling, her hands stretched out in such an unmistakable way.  There is something about these photos that makes them incredibly intimate, touching and for me very beautiful.  They were like a window into a family.  The style is far less contrasty than the large square formats of famous faces.  I recall them being mainly low key although that may just be an impression.  There is no glare, none of the usual in your face brashness.

The other photographs I found really compelling were the ones of other photographers and artists.  I don’t remember there being a special room for these, perhaps I am wrong.  I just remember being struck by images that were striking and surprising, as they seemed to stand out from the others.  The commentary in the books talks of empathy and there certainly does seem to be much of this, especially with images of Man Ray, Manuel Alvarez Bravo, Fancis Bacon, Brassaï, Bill Brandt, Jaques-Henri Lartigue, André Kertész and of course Brian Duffy, one of his cohorts from his early days.   But as well as empathy there seems to be a deep comraderie, a connection and a palpable conversation that I didn’t find in the other portraits.  I notice that these photographs are all of men and there is something very grizzly and male and separate from me, a woman, about them. Not necessarily a bad thing, just something tangible that I noticed.  In any event these images really stood out for me. 

The East End photographs also had an authenticity that struck me.  I found the Rio Club, 1968 extremely interesting and unusual.  The composition is so daring and the TV set looks like it is about to fall on the man sitting below and crush him.  He looks so innocent.  I also thought The Dragon Club, Whitechapel 1968 showed us something foreboding and dangerous, the black shadow that cuts into the image seems to be suggesting something will devour the rest of the scene soon, is already eating into it, into the black and white image of innocent children on the wall, which are captured and frozen in an earlier photograph.  Again the composition is bold and although rigorous it is not an easy composition, putting us on edge.  These photographs were part of a series of coloured photographs for the Sunday Times Magazine in 1968 for an article called East End Faces.

Finally, I was touched by the photographs of Sudanese children, taken when other famous faces from the celebrity world used their reputation and influence to raise funds and awareness for LiveAid.  [5]There has been some criticism in recent years of this well known project and some of the arguments are difficult to dismiss but when I looked at the photographs taken by Baily I was, even today after we have been inured to such images due to the frequency with which we are shown them, filled with horror and anger that we humans can allow starvation like this to occur.  In particular, the photograph of a hand next to a tiny starving infant is simply shocking and horrifying, and it was these images that contributed to the groundswell of Western abhorrence.

One of the images did trouble me.  A tiny starving child with a skull for a head and a skeleton for a body is rendered beautiful by the lighting, tones and composition.  This is a perennial question – is it right to use someone else’s suffering for the purposes of art?  Photographers in particular are ‘guilty’ if indeed one believes it is morally questionable to create artistic expression out of misery and suffering. 

Baily has always been interested in skulls, has always taken photographs of them and there are several still life images featuring skulls in the exhibition. [6]“‘We end up as art, as sculpture, in a funny sort of way.  It’s the ultimate self-art.  It’s like “destruction art”, isn’t it?’ Baily observes.”  I couldn’t help but make the connection between his fascination for skulls in one room and the photograph of an ephemeral child made to look hauntingly beautiful whom in all likelihood died from starvation soon after the photo was taken.  Did she unwittingly end up as art as she was dying.

Tim Marlow in his introduction to the book Baily’s Stardust printed by the National Portrait Gallery includes a quote that talks about Baily’s fondness of relying on ‘The accidental nature of the universe” much like the [7]Dadaists and Surrealists.  It was an accident that I read a book about our narcissistic culture which looked in some detail at the current obsession with celebrity and where this started, and then went to see one of the icons whom, it could be argued, contributed in some way, good or bad, to the beginning of this current trend.  But what I have learned whilst visiting this exhibition is that David Baily is about a great deal more than his celebrity photographs.  He has a broad and eclectic collection of work behind him and before him if he keeps working, which I believe he plans to.  Whenever I mentioned I’d been to see his work to friends, they commented on how good looking he once was.  He cannot be separated from that early image, the 60s icon, one of the very few in reality who were actually there on the King’s Road or in Carnaby Street making legends.  (I think that particular 60s only happened to a handful of people at most.) That history feeds into how we see and perceive his work and him, but I have learned that he is a hugely rounded artist and a pivotal recorder and photographic commentator of late 20^th century culture.

Incidentally, I have and continue to take photos of actors some of whom may well be famous one day if they’re not on their way already.  Not sure yet if family or actor’s headshots and publicity is the way forward for me, perhaps both, who knows?  Either way though, I make myself laugh with my slightly disdainful stance on celebrity!

 

 

 

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[1] Page 12, Baily’s Stardust, introductory essay by Tim Marlow, published by National Portrait Gallery, 2014.

[2] Page 12, Baily’s Stardust, introductory essay by Tim Marlow, published by National Portrait Gallery, 2014.

[3] Page 192, Baily’s Stardust, Box of Pin Ups section, published by National Portrait Gallery, 2014.

[4] Page 60 & 62, The Narcissism Epidemic Living in the Age of Entitlement, Jean Twenge PH. D. and W. Keith Campbell PH. D., Atria Paperback, 2009, First Paperback Edition, 2013

[5] http://www.theguardian.com/world/2005/jun/24/g8.debtrelief Here one of a number of voices expressing doubt about how much good Live Aid and subsequent similar activity has actually done for Sub-Saharan Africa, which is poorer now than ever.

[6] Page 261, Baily’s Stardust, introductory essay by Tim Marlow, published by National Portrait Gallery, 2014.

[7] Dada & Surrealism, Matthew Gale, Phaidon, Page 63, about Hans Arp ‘The most revolutionary of Arp’s collages were those made “according to the laws of chance”’.

Multiple points

6 photographs - Set up your own still life with a background that is unfussy but not entirely plain.  Use between 6/10 objects, each compact in shape.  You should fix the camera firmly in one position, aimed down at the background (ideally use a tripod)  The idea is to control the composition by rearrangement, not by changing the framing with the camera.

"'The most revolutionary of Arp's collages were those made 'according to the laws of chance'"
Dada and Surrealism on Hans Arp's use of chance to create collages and also poetry.
Page 63, Matthew Gale, Phaidon, 1997

I have to say when it come sot still life I have no idea how some people can get some truly amazing images by placing objects so strategically.  It must come from a great deal of trial and error and/or innate talent because I think it's a pretty hard thing to do.

Anyway, I am inadvertently continuing with the theme of death although hopefully not in a morbid way.  The objects I have chosen to photograph are some art materials that belonged to a woman who died over two years ago.  She was very old and I never knew her. 

The woman lived off the Kings Rd in Chelsea in a tiny flat and apparently lived and long and very rich (not necessarily rich in the material sense, although I don't think she was destitute by any stretch) and full life.  She didn't have any family.

There are two sets of photographs here.  The first where I didn't follow the instructions fully.  The objects are not compact in shape nor are they of regular size.  But I liked the photos so I have included them - and I was attempting to create a satisfactory shape and arrangement nevertheless.  I also like that the objects mirror some scratches on the table.

The second set are pastels from a set the women had used a little.  Initially I placed a couple of the pastels in specific places.  But I found this quite stifling and ended up tossing them gently onto the table rather than strategically moving them about - allowing them to land according to the 'laws of chance'.  I did however alter them a little after that to create more balance, in particular I noticed that there were quite dark colours in the shadows so changed them for lighter ones.  So - chance gave me something to work with but I played with that was given.

All the objects are placed on a table that belonged to the dead woman too.  It is a good table but very used and scratched.  It has been polished now so in better condition than it was but the table retains all the scars and scratches from it's long useful life.  See after the final images from each set for a description of what I hope the photos communicate, or at least what I see in them myself.

To complete the picture I listened to Antony and the Johnson's I am a Bird Now whilst editing. 

The photos are taken at f2.8, 70mm, 400ISO. I wanted them to be soft and I used the light from an overcast rainy day through a window to cast gentle shadows and highlight.

Set 1  - a dead woman's painting materials

I quite like the single paintbrush here.  And when looking on the back of the camera immediately noticed the scratches.

The texture of the large brush appealed to me and I placed it at an opposing angle to highlight it.

The lines here are quite random but the shadows and highlight create something interesting for me. 

I got bored of the paint brushes and tried something else instead although still planned to include the bushes.  The scratches become part of the object or at any rate support it in some way.

I like all the diagonals and how the paintbrush and extended scratch line just below cut through it.

As above

For me these photos are somewhat celebratory about the dead woman's life.  The brushes and the tin are well used.  To me a great deal of living and enjoyment seem associated with these objects. The marks on the table seem to suggest the woman wasn't afraid to live and made mistakes but that didn't matter in the end - her life, like the table, was well used by her.  A pristine sterile table would fail to communicate how much life there is here.  The light seems uplifting too - it brings the objects to life and gives the whole picture a kind of relief.  There is warmth in the colour of the wood, again life.  I think this is a celebratory image all in all but tinged with something of loss - the absence of the artist is quite resonant.

 Set 2 - Pastels

It is quite hard to place such a small object in a large space and make it seem interesting.  I have seen some great images where much has been made of negative space.  Perhaps I should have tried something along those lines here.

These shapes almost look like letters - signs.

I had started placing things randomly here to see what happened.

By now I was pacing some of the randomly placed objects in more strategic positions.  I placed lighter colours in the dark right hand bottom corner. I also altered the white balance at the end of editing to match the blue pastel.

Here I altered the green and blue and adjacent pink and red to make more the overall space and create a more dynamic impression.  I also seem to have removed another dark pastel from the dark corner.  This second set of photographs is more abstract than the first and it does what was required in the exercise.  When I look at it here I see them as little mouth pieces trying to say something.  The lines are quite angular and strong.  There is a series of pastels across the top, starting in the top right hand corner and each pair becomes progressively more separate as you march across the image.  Looks like they are shouting, becoming more insistent.  They are coloured pastels but the impression I have is of soldiers, loudness and aggression, maybe even war.  Maybe no-one else will see that at all.  In the first set of photos the light was open ended at the top but here the vignetting completes the frame and gives a very different sense.  I wish I had used a higher f stop here now actually as it would have been even harder then.  But perhaps the softening makes it more real, my sort of war - more than a bit fuzzy at the the edges.  I don't know...