a portrait of a band (an ode to soul)

Though I have done a couple of significant photo shoots with Saskwatch, the band didn't ask me to shoot these images. In fact, I asked the band if they would allow me to take them.

This is an important distinction, and let me explain why: when I am asked to take publicity shots for a band, they usually come to me with some pretty strong ideas and we work together to achieve a visual representation of how they see the band, and how they want others to see the band. It's a really wonderful collaborative process. In this case, on the other hand, I had an extremely strong idea for a portrait of the band – my interpretation of the band, quite separate from (and perhaps even contradictory to) how they see themselves.

There's a slight danger here that people may take my interpretation of the band as the band's interpretation of the band. Image is so important in the music industry, so I was reluctant to even post these photos in case they were misinterpreted. But I figure that if I explain it really clearly in this accompanying text then it is probably OK. Plus the band is happy for me to post them, even though they are not images they would ever choose to publicise. And besides – how many people really read this? Hmm?

Why did I want to take these photos? No money changed hands. The band won't use them. The preparation took a lot of time, effort and expense (the letters are handmade using hand-cut A3-sized foam board, a lot of glue, and LED lights covered with cellophane. This was not an easy task). What's in it for me?

Perhaps it's my stubborn nature; I had this idea in my head a long time ago and, unlike many ideas that develop in my mind, this one wouldn't weaken. The more I thought about it, the more determined I was to do it. I suppose I also wanted to undertake a project where I was composing a portrait of a band instead of a person (or group of people). This band has no shortage of unique personalities within it. But this is not a portrait of Olaf, Ed, Tom, Liam, Nkechi, Rob, Nic, Sam and Will. This is a portrait of Saskwatch. I was excited to realise a vision that had become so clear in my head. And despite the extreme effort required and the limited actual usefulness of these shots, I am so thrilled that I followed it through.

So, what is my interpretation of the band?

Seeing Saskwatch play live floors me every time – and I've seen them play a lot – because the sounds that these nine people make are so consistently powerful. It is music the way I think it should be: when they drop back and allow Nkechi's vocals to gently break hearts, it's exquisite, and when the band slowly builds to (or hits the crowd straight up with) its full power the adrenaline in the room is palpable. The songs are composed and performed in a way that inescapably captivates people – at times it feels as though your pulse is responding directly to the sounds – and they make me fall in love with music again each time I hear them.

This is not mere hyperbole; I want to convey the power of the music as a means to explaining the visual approach I took. I wanted the band's name in lights because the music presents such an assault on the emotions: just like a blinding neon sign, the music's power is unavoidable and undeniable. It's no coincidence that soul music has been traditionally associated with vibrant, knock-your-socks-off aesthetics. The lights, the sequins, the matching suits, the impeccable make-up, the irresistible album art: these consistent visuals that accompanied the soul of the sixties and beyond did so because they visually communicated the impact of the music. Soul unapologetically manipulates your emotions in the most glorious way. Who can listen to Otis Redding's voice and not share his exquisite pain or infectious happiness? Who can hear Aretha Franklin lament being in an abusive relationship and not immediately understand what it might be like to never love a man (the way I love you)? And anyone who witnessed Charles Bradley at Golden Plains earlier this year and wasn't immediately moved by his heartbreaking voice, even if they had never heard of him before, might actually have no soul.

Having said that, there is a difference between the approach to visuals that classic soul bands took and the approach that Saskwatch takes. Where the former announced themselves as a very specific genre, Saskwatch lets the music speak for itself. A recent review of a live Saskwatch show applauded the music wholeheartedly but criticised the members' appearance and onstage presence, suggesting that they should incorporate more synchronised moves and more impressive (perhaps matching?) clothes. I think this is an ignorant and uninspired opinion. I don't think the band is a revivalist band. While soul was arguably most prominent several decades ago, that doesn't automatically tie today's soul to the superficial elements (such as costume and band art) of those older artists. Though it's a route many bands today seem to take – from skivvy-wearing sixties-sounding rock-n-rollers to long-haired seventies-loving dirty garage rockers – it is absolutely not essential, and to assume otherwise is narrow-minded at best. Regardless of music style, each band should form its own unique identity.

It is for this reason that I absolutely didn't want the focus to be on the band members. The juxtaposition between the powerhouse letters, which represent the music this band puts out, and the modesty, obscurity or total absence of the band members is what I was trying to achieve. I shot them in their casual clothes instead of the slightly less casual clothes they wear when they perform. I shot them during soundcheck and told them to pretend I wasn't there: no poses, no orchestration, no focus on their 'performance'. I used long exposures to reduce the clarity of the people, and intensify the strength of the lights.

In many ways I think the photo at the top of this post achieves my aims most successfully. While the letters represent the incredible music, there are no people. But there are instruments – because if nothing else, the people in this band are nine extraordinary musicians whose instruments represent their finely honed craft. Combined, these musicians (represented by the instruments) make this music (letters).

Like most of these images, the shot at the top features the iconic red curtain of Melbourne's Cherry Bar, which is where Saskwatch has played countless residencies over almost three years. These photos were taken during the band's last ever Cherry residency, so I'm really pleased to be essentially capturing a significant point in the life of Saskwatch: acknowledging and farewelling what some have referred to as the band's 'home'.

While the top image most successfully meets my thematic aims, from an aesthetic standpoint I think those with the band members on stage are equally successful. The lack of visual performance is a really gorgeous contrast to the letters: a group of (mostly) modest musicians at work – getting on with making excellent music, not buying into the hype that this kind of music can bring about.

And from a purely aesthetic point, this image is very close to my favourite. I absolutely adore the fact that every band member is blurred – except Nkechi, whose gorgeous stillness captures what her performance is often capable of: quieting chaos; bringing the freneticism of a bustling gig to a complete standstill with her restrained power.

So these are my portraits of a band. There was no collaboration, just a group of musicians who were willing to allow me to shoot them for my own purposes. It was such a worthwhile exercise for me – a chance to really construct something from scratch (literally and figuratively) in order to communicate a very specific perception. It also helps me to define the important difference between creating a visual representation of a band's self-imposed image, and creating a very subjective interpretation. This is certainly the most significant photographic project I have worked on this year, and it provides encouragement for me to pursue other ideas that are not designed to serve other people. Whether this kind of project will have any worth beyond that remains to be seen. But that's OK with me.

when is it not ok to shoot?

According to the Arts Law Centre of Australia (ALCA), 'there is no right to privacy that protects a person's image, and "taking photographs of people in public places is generally permitted'. As a photographer who is interested in taking candid photographs of strangers in the tradition of social photography, this information is crucial to know. It basically means that if you're taking photos out on the streets (street photography) or at an event (festivals, parades, concerts and so on) for non-commercial purposes (i.e. not to be used in advertising), you are within your legal rights to capture the image of a stranger and use it within the realms of your photography. This seems very reasonable and pretty straightforward, right?

But there is a particular kind of social photography that I am drawn to that unfortunately delves into the grey area of the above definition. The ALCA goes on to say the following in regard to the rights of 'street photographers':

it is an offence punishable by a fine or imprisonment to photograph a person to provide sexual arousal or gratification if the person is undressed or engaged in a private act in circumstances where a reasonable person would reasonably expect to be afforded privacy, and he or she has not consented to being filmed. A private act includes using the toilet, bathing and engaging in sexual activities not ordinarily done in public.

Like any law speak, there are some terms in there that need close interpretation. In this case, it's reasonable/reasonably and ordinarily. How these terms are defined determine whether or not certain types of photography are legal or not. Specifically, I am referring to my interest in after-dark social photography, where people drink alcohol, let go of their reservations and show sides to their personalities that may not otherwise come out. Sometimes, this lack of inhibition leads to some very public displays of affection, often with relative strangers.

So here's the question: if two people are drunk and making out in a bar (etc.) after midnight, is this a situation where 'a reasonable person would reasonably expect to be afforded privacy'? Furthermore, if there is making out, and perhaps even some groping, does that constitute 'sexual activities not ordinarily done in public'?

One argument could go along the lines of: they were in a dark club or bar - perhaps even a dark corner or booth in a dark club or bar - and everyone else was probably drunk and thus wouldn't pay much attention (or remember), so they could potentially argue that they felt they were in a reasonably private space and therefore should expect to be afforded privacy. Furthermore, it could be argued that the activities they were engaging in were of a sexual nature and 'not ordinarily done in public'. To take it even further, if they were engaging in something that was morally wrong (such as infidelity) or legally wrong (such as drug-taking), publishing incriminating photos may even be bordering on defamation.

I think in realistic terms, however, the opposing argument is more valid: a bar is a public space in that it is open to the public; if two people were engaging in intimate activities in full view of the other patrons then they understand, drunk or not, that they will be seen and are not in fact in a private space; and, perhaps most pertinently (for better or worse), the ubiquity of cameraphones and official nightclub photographers has made after-dark drinking holes more public than ever. Enter (and grope) at your own risk.

OK, so let's say it's legal (though I will be seeking further advice before publishing any potentially reputation-damaging images online or elsewhere). Is it ethical?

And here we enter another grey area. So, hypothetically, a photo may not break any laws, but what if, in an admittedly extreme scenario, it broke up a marriage? Got someone fired? Made them a laughing stock among their peers? These are unlikely considering that I'm referring specifically to my own small-scale, artistic purposes, but with the global accessibility of the internet it's something that must be taken into consideration.

I'm not sure that I have a conclusion to this question of ethics. I probably won't until I start exploring it in practical terms - that is, taking the shots. My guess is I will aim to obscure faces through composition, though this may not always be possible. (The above photo is an example of this, though I don't love this shot.)

In the meantime, I'll be doing another kind of research, starting with this blog entry: what's the general consensus on this among my own peers? How do people feel about being photographed when they are at their most exposed? How would I feel about it?

Exploring these questions in theory and practice is a fascinating and potentially dangerous exercise, but one that will hopefully be worthwhile.

how's the serenity

When we boarded an old motorboat to go on a sunset billabong cruise just outside of Darwin, I couldn't help but think of Darryl Kerrigan and his love of Bonnie Doon. Maybe it was partly because of the smell of two-stroke, or the fact that I was with my family, just like Darryl was at his beloved holiday spot. But mostly, it was the serenity.

The sun was setting on another perfect day in the Darwin Dry and an uncanny stillness permeated the billabong. This serenity most likely comes from the fact that the billabong is so far from any kind of extensive civilisation, and as a result the place takes on an almost spiritual quality. It was a lovely thing to just drift past and through the picturesque lilypads, seeing anything above water level reflected in the billabong's pristine surface.

Even the wildlife seem to be in perfect sync with the atmosphere, as they act like the boat cruising past doesn't exist. From the enormous eagles overlooking their territory to the little waterbirds hopping delicately from pad to pad, the birds and animals give you the sense that you're witnessing nature in its untouched state. Even old mate didn't blink an eye when the boat sidled up beside him, preferring to remain in his mottled shade and, like us, enjoy the serenity.

Soon after the orange fireball crept below the horizon, the boat picked up speed and headed back to the banks with uncharacteristic haste. This was because, the guide explained, at a very precise point during each day's farewell, the billabong becomes completely overtaken by infinite swarms of mosquitoes. And so we disembarked and scurried back to the car before our exposed skin was eaten and all traces of that billabong feeling disappeared.

But the feeling remains here, in these lovely images. Another piece of Territory magic from the place that just keeps on giving.

welcome to the family

Quite by chance, I came across an unusual toy camera that I had never heard of before. It was designed as a novelty camera - presumably before Photoshop was widespread - that allowed you to divide the frame in two horizontally so that two images merge into one, overlapping slightly in the middle. The reason I believe it was a pre-digital novelty item is because according to the packaging, the highlight of this camera is its ability to put a dog's head onto a person's body - something incredibly simple to do on a computer, and something that very few people would buy a cheap film camera just to do.

At the risk of disappointing you, I have to confess that I did not buy this camera to create strange canine-human hybrids. Rather, I was intrigued by the idea of merging two images without overlapping them completely; unlike a standard multiple exposure, this camera allows you to keep the top and the bottom as a single image, with only the middle combined. In some ways this makes it more interesting than a straightforward multiple exposure, because it takes a while to figure out what's going on: the top and the bottom look normal, but there is definitely something strange happening.

Admittedly, this is something that could also be done quite easily in Photoshop. So why use a dodgy old film camera? Well, a few reasons. Firstly, there's no way that I would sit down at my computer and put some street lamps over a Hungry Jack's neon sign. I wouldn't think to do it, and I wouldn't waste my energy on something that isn't very spectacular. But out on the street, when you can't see the results and you are figuratively (and sometimes literally) in the dark, you have to shoot on instinct, and spontaneously. All the 'work' is done in that moment, and it's exciting not knowing what the hell it's going to look like. And sure, the image above isn't great, but it's still interesting, and it's a reflection of what I saw at that time. It allows no time for post-production perfectionism or self-doubt. This is one of the greatest things about dodgy, experimental plastic cameras, especially for someone who is prone to perfectionism (e.g. me).

I would never take the time to digitally construct these two images. I like to shoot in the moment! And doing so early one winter morning has given me two pretty successful representations of one of my favourite CBD photographic locations, Bourke Street Mall. The second one is particularly impressive to me, because the transition between images is pretty seamless, making the oversized tram timetable really unnerving above the small seated woman. The image at the top of this post is another Bourke Street success - I particularly like that the GPO tower is pointing right at the rays of sun in the top image.

Seeing as these images are all from my first test roll, I'm pretty pleased with the results. Not because I think they are all wonderful, but because they reveal some of the effects this camera is capable of, and the potential for creating an entirely new array of unusual, layered film images with absolutely no Photoshop necessary. Thank goodness.

two people

I've been thinking a bit lately about the connections people make with one another. Two strangers, for example, meet and become close. They share a lot and grow to care immeasurably for one another. They take a kind of journey together. Sometimes a long one, sometimes a short one, sometimes a never-ending one. Or to put it another way, each person shares part of the other person's journey.

My first relationship was a very serious one, and very long one. When we came to the end of our time together, we went in wildly different directions: he chose tradition, family and stability, and I chose personal exploration, career progression and, for lack of a better word, creativity. In the immediate aftermath of the relationship I was struck by how incredibly strange this was. For so many years we were travelling down the same path, and sharing that journey, and then this fork in the road seemed to appear out of nowhere, and sent us in completely opposite directions. I'm sure there is a lot that could be read into that situation, but I'm not going to attempt to analyse potential mistakes made or judge my younger self for her decisions. I now look back at that as a very simple situation: we took one another as far as we possibly could; at a certain point, we could accompany one another no further. Our paths just went in different directions.

I think this basic principle is applicable to many relationships - and to their beginnings and their endings. Sometimes, as is the case with the relationship I just referred to, the two paths end up being so far apart that they simply don't intersect in any way anymore, and so the two people leave each other's lives absolutely, and often for good. Is that a good thing? I don't know. Perhaps in some way it is - though I don't doubt that such judgement could only be made on a case-by-case basis. On the other hand, sometimes the paths - while diverging - remain in the general vicinity of each other, and so the two people remain in each other's lives in some other way.

My sister's path aligned with Hugh's for a while last year. Because I live in another state, I didn't spend a lot of time around the two of them - though I did spend a week in Darwin while they were seeing one another. They got along really well for the most part, but they also bickered a lot. They seemed to get on each other's nerves. Despite this, they were tremendously comfortable with one another, like they had known each other for many years (and perhaps this also explains the bickering). I think the second photo shows that comfort and lovely familiarity. The first photo, which shows them sharing a beer over a game of chess, shows the friendship - or perhaps mateship is an even more suitable word - that they had.

In my opinion, they weren't right for one another. It seemed like it was often a rocky road that they were on. But they did see one another through a small period in their respective lives, and I have no doubt that that was largely positive for both of them, in the broader scheme of their lives. Lately, Hugh has shown up in my sister's life again in a different form: helping her out while she goes through a bit of a tough time. They remain in each other's lives as friends, which is a really lovely thing.

After they broke up earlier this year, I was reluctant to post these two gorgeous photos because I thought it might be painful for my sister. But in light of the way things have panned out, I think it's a great lesson that can only be positive: people come in and out of your life, and their role in your life changes, but different doesn't mean bad. And sometimes - maybe even most of the time - different works out pretty well.

mel & jules

There are several reasons why I think this photo is pretty special. For one, Mel is a great friend of mine, and she herself is pretty special. Also, I took this on her birthday, and isn't it always nice to have a visual memento of such an occasion?

While Jules isn't a great friend of mine (at this point) because I have only recently met him, I already like him very much. He is not only a friendly, funny person, but he adores Mel (very important) and from all accounts he makes her happy (very very important). Both of these things come through in the image - in their body language (facing each other and Jules embracing her) and in Mel's gorgeous, genuine smile.

Moving away from sentimentality, the portrait is also successful (or at least interesting) because of its layers. Obviously the yellow is the primary image, but the other two layers, though more difficult to find, add visual (and sentimental) interest to the image. The blue layer, which is the easiest of the two to see, shows the two of them interacting with someone else (by the look of it) - it is a candid, casual, social shot. Once you've focused on the blue image, it's really difficult to see the red one - it must be some kind of optics thing that I have no idea how to explain. But then all of a sudden it appears to you, and you realise you're seeing Mel about to kiss Jules. It's so subtle - a private moment that I really didn't have any right to capture - but its lovely intimacy is a really special element to the overall portrait.

So cheers to Mel and Jules - the kind of couple that it's genuinely heartwarming to witness.

some darwin moments

I'm not super thrilled with this roll of film as one united piece, but broken up into random snatches like the one above, they tell some interesting stories about my recent trip to Darwin, and about the place in general. So there's palm trees on the beach at sunset: this is something that Darwin does incredibly well and with astonishing consistency - in the dry season, at least. Countless bars and restaurants take up real estate along the shore to capitalise on the nightly show that nature in the Top End presents. It's glamourous, it's excessive and it's timeless. Yet to presume that this aspect of Darwin somehow epitomises the whole city (or large town, depending on your definition of city) is just plain wrong. Darwin is also wonderfully ordinary in a lot of its architecture and other non-natural sights (I wrote about the architecture here). So the daggy and very ordinary bathroom sinks and mirror bring that element of Darwin into the picture - and I like the juxtaposition.

That faded, endless summer beachy palm goodness is on full display in this one. It also includes the man-made beach at the Darwin waterfront, which is a pretty interesting concept. Growing up by the Victorian beach I was never faced with the idea of not being able to swim due to the threat of crocodiles and jellyfish killing you. But that is precisely the case in Darwin. As a kind of compromise, I guess, they built this small pool, or 'beach', that is connected to the ocean but 'fenced off' so that the nasties won't get through and eat you.

I like both of these, but ideally I would combine them so that you get all of this in one frame. In the first frame here, what looks like a Greek Orthodox church overlaps the girl with a sign advertising a bikini car wash. Seeing this girl - who was in a bikini and trying to attract passing traffic with the homemade sign - was so marvellous for me, mainly because I find smut so hilariously appealing (putting aside any ideological or ethical issues that it usually raises). Novel and bizarre, but not to be unexpected in a place that consistently hires hot girls to 'work' (i.e. stand on the side of the road) as traffic controllers on construction sites. The second frame shows the church overlapping a typical NT News headline about crocodiles and killing.

It was a pretty quick visit this year, so the things I did and saw were all in rapid succession, making it hard to remember all the details with any coherency. In this sense, the rather incoherent visual impressions above are quite apt. In typical fashion, however, this is only a tiny fragment of what I shot over the few days I was there. Needless to say, then, there are a lot more palm trees and Territory anomalies to come.

a grizzly challenge

A dear friend of mine recently asked me to undertake a collaborative project. It was to go like this: I would take a portrait of him that would be enlarged and cut up into 72 squares, where each portion of the larger work would become one CD cover. These 72 covers would be displayed on a gallery wall, and each would contain a CD single available for purchase. So you buy a piece of art and a piece of music. It's such a wonderful idea! And of course I jumped at the chance to partake, not only because it would be a marvellous creative challenge, but because it is always an honour to have anything to do with the gorgeous talent that is Grizzly Jim Lawrie.

(Another dear friend filmed the above shoot, and interviewed both Jim and I about the project, and you can see the video here.)

The main challenge for me was constructing a portrait where even the background would be interesting when isolated as a CD case. This is difficult with a photograph, because most photographic portraits have a relatively subdued background, which allows the subject to stand out. After much brain strain, though, it came to me. Of course! A sprocket strip! Lots of colour, lots of abstract bits and pieces filling the frame(s), lots of layers, lots of sprockets and film markings!

So the technical approach was decided. But what of the content? My first idea, which you see above, was to go for a walk with Jim around his neighbourhood, and shoot whatever seemed interesting or relevant along the way (including, multiple times, Jim himself). Looking at the results now, I think they are quite interesting. But I wasn't willing to put all my eggs into one roll of film, so to speak, so I did another shoot too, which involved Jim warming a late Sunday afternoon pub crowd with his acoustic loveliness.

For the final portrait, I ended up using the results from the second shoot. I felt that the photo(s) from the first shoot were just a bit too nondescript, with not enough clarity and detail in the strip (click on them to see them up close). I'll post the 'successful' results another time. But for now, I wanted to give some love to these images - the rejects of the project, as it were - because you know what? They're not so bad.

the wedding

Imogen and Ben hired a professional photographer to shoot their wedding. But they asked me to take some photos too - I guess so they would have some less conventional photos to remember the day. This was great, because I was more than happy to shoot some rolls to capture this special day, but there was no pressure to capture everything or get everything perfect because they were paying someone else to take that pressure on board... and so I decided to give them my interpretation of the event.

I'm going to post some of the results below in chronological order, but I simply had to lead with the above image because it was the standout of the day for me, and embodies the perfect (non-standard) wedding photo: both bride and groom are in it, though not front-and-centre; the warmth of the room is captured with the lovely yellow tones; there is movement in the shot, which gives it a wonderful busyness; Imogen's dress is divine; and the drummer in the foreground tells you that there was a live band, and that adds to the authentic atmosphere that permeated the venue. I find this image basically flawless in terms of my personal standards and preferences.

I didn't take any photos inside the church. It's such a special moment between the couple - the moment they are actually wed! - but I find it intrusive and inappropriate to draw attention away from them in order to get up close with a camera, which is what I would have to do to get anything that I found interesting. Besides, everyone else was taking photos of the official moment, so I figured it would be covered. I was much more interested in what happened after people came out of the church.

People are always in such good spirits immediately after a wedding ceremony. My cynical side believes it has something to do with the relief one felt as a child when church was over; as Lisa Simpson says, after church is the best time of the week because 'it's the longest possible time before more church'. But of course it's more than that. People are happy because they have watched two people pledge to share their lives together. What a privilege to witness.

The lovely bride, and her lovely bridesmaid and sister, Portia. I was frantically shooting to make the most of the glorious sun that had emerged from the clouds and was giving everyone a stunning glow. But glow or no glow, that dress would make any photo look great.

I didn't actually get many of the bride and groom - and certainly not together. But the few I did get are really lovely. Not posed at all (another benefit of not shooting as the professional photographer - no posed shots necessary), they capture the two as part of the bigger event - how they fit into the day from the perspective of a guest, perhaps.

The other two female members of the wedding party looked divine too: the unique dresses, the understated flowers, the golden hair, and that sunshine.

Imogen had put so much preparation into planning the little details for the reception, especially the flowers. I kind of guessed that by the time she arrived at the reception she would be too busy to take in all the fruits of her planning. So when we were setting up in the morning, I took the opportunity to capture a few of those little things that made it feel so special.

Then there was the reception. I really just wanted to catch people unawares for the most part so I could, again, get a sense of the atmosphere. The venue was gorgeous, and people were having such a great time - and I think that comes through in the photos.

I used a yellow flash because the colours of the place were too warm to use black and white, but I don't like a normal flash with colour photos because it often washes out skin tones and, let's face it, the photos can be boring. So according to my visual records, the night was officially bathed in a sea of gold.

I'd like to finish with this image because it's definitely one of my top five images of the day. You might know by now that I really love photos of feet, and you will know even if you've only read this entry that I like unconventional wedding portraits. Add my penchant for colourful flashes into the mix, and here's a pretty perfect photo for me! This was just before the newlyweds left the reception. It had been a long day, and Imogen's heels had started to hurt (either that or she couldn't dance how she wanted while impeded by such pesky things as shoes). And so they danced without inhibition, and then they left. And they were married.