Gladstone Educates Me

A Different World

My Tutor, Prof Wenham-Clarke, looked at my coursework to date  -- those pictures demonstrating the subtle cultural diversities within Devizes -- and said "Yes, OK, but they could all be your friends; go and find some people that maybe we don't expect to see; maybe people who you wouldn't usually associate with in your daily life". 
Fine, I thought, feeling a lot less confident than that sounds; fine. So I went walkabout around Devizes,  taking in The Marketplace (full of cars except on Thursdays when it's full of market traders) the cemetery (full of quiet) and Eureka! The Canal. 'There's a possible victim' I thought, spying a young man with a Mohican haircut stripped to the waist. (No; you misunderstand; his haircut wasn't stripped to the waist; he was). Depends how you read the sentence doesn't it?

He turned out to be 'Glad' -- I assume short for 'Gladstone' and over the next few days, as I talked with him and made some pictures, he introduced me to a world I'd hardly heard about, and certainly had no experience of.  He lived on a small, battered old river-cruiser ("cost me forty quid in a bar in Bath") with his girl partner and, strangely, a lodger. They moored on the less-popular bank of the canal, though directly opposite to the              favourite public-access, the starting-point of the 'trips along the canal' boats, so Glad and his little group had reasonable access to the water- and toilet-point provided. Not only that but The Wharf, as that part of town is known, is just ten minutes walking-distance from The Market-Place. 

People like Glad, independent as they like to be, tend not to welcome too many questions about their past, present or plans, but we got on well enough for him to tell me that he originated in Lancaster, grew up physically abused, left home -- and school -- earlier than most, and had few opportunities to find work or plan a future. On Benefit, of course, while the Mohican discourages potenial employers to go further than an initial greeting at job interviews arranged by 'The Monastery' -- his take on the Ministry of Employment. Unlike Greg The Traveller (see later) he doesn't busk, so depends on Benefit handouts and any kind souls asking him about his lifestyle (I wondered if my fiver-a-day was appropriate, but it was at least not rejected) to buy the necessities. 
But Glad did something significant for me then; he introduced me to caring church-people. 

Now, those who know me would tell you, if asked, of my lack of affection for anyone involved in the promotion of religion; I firmly believe that the employment of many thousands, if not millions, of people to deliver the conflicting messages that a) God loves you, and b) God will condemn you, not only to to your personal hell after you die, but also to a living lifetime of anxiety, unless you show absolute faith in him and his teaching, without any shred of evidence or proof, is nothing short of fraud and emotional corruption on a (literally and metaphorically) unbelievable scale. I could agree that such coercion and blackmail might have been justified in order for the learned to keep the ignorant under control when and where necessary, way back, but since the vast majority of the world's population learned to read, write and think, the combined weapons of fear, superstition and emotional terror should not be employed mainly to keep the peasants from revolting, nor to keep archbishops in ermine. 
You might remind me that much of the work of the various churches is aimed at benefitting the disadvantaged -- which I applaud, of course, and with which I had personal contact with when Glad introduced me to the concept of the St John Drop-in Centre in Devizes, which he patronises. Apparently, if you're desperate, you can get lunch on a Monday,  a full day of meals each Wednesday and tea on Thursdays, just by turning up.  Now, that is, if you'll excuse the expression, Christian.

  

The Artist

I learned that our good friend David Galbraith was making some illustrations of sailing ships for a project on upmarket timepieces in which he's involved. Apparently he's been commissioned to provide illustrations of a wide range of subjects, from steam engines to saiing ships, racing cars and aeroplanes, in his unique, classical style, for decorating not only the clocks themelves, but also the cases they live in too. He's not only a talented perfectionist, but also an enthusiast for life itself, which comes across every time you meet him. 
He agreed to my taking up a couple of hours of his time by photographing him in his studio, and relaxing afterwards. I'm so glad I did, for I made pictures which I love too, and that's justification for anything.

Let me stress that what we see here is not Mister Galbraith's usual choice of headgear; he wears it only when he uses his magnifier, to avoid chafing; a sort of slipper-for-your-head, if you like.

Thanks for your patience David.

And Then Some.......

Phillippa and Dec (short for Declan; he has Irish ancestry, you know) live just up the road from Jeremy and Jo; yes, their houses look similar from the outside, with each having a porch through which you reach the front door, then down a short hallway to another door giving access to the living/dining.sitting areas.
That's where the similarity ends.
I said in an earlier blog that many of the ex-Snuff-employees' houses at the top of Victoria Road have been extended and Phillippa and Dec's place shows what an estate agent might call an 'architect-designed' extension. 'Cool' doesn't do it justice; if it were an item for sale it might be described as 'Mint', with a + or two from an enthusiastic copywriter. Whatever you call it, it's great and photogenic:

But there's more. Sitting in a dining-area alcove is nothing less than a fifties'-style Juke Box; yes, a Wurlitzer, no less, and if you think it's just for decoration, think again. It works; it plays, it lights up and it's genuine!  I was treated to a short performance and if I were anything approaching normal, I might have danced. As it was, i'm not and I didn't.

Phillippa and Dec were good enough to invite me back after the first shoot, and this time, after a very enjoyable and instructive craic, we made some more pictures in their Front Room: 

Thanks lots Philippa and Dec, for your time, company and involvement; let's do some location shots!

Which is what we did one bright early summer's evening in our courtyard; I had learned that both Philippa and Dec play the ukelele. Being of a certain generation, that triggered a memory of an old music-hall performer called George Formby who played that instrument on stage and sang. One of his favourite songs started "I'm leaning on a lampost at the corner of the street, in case a certain litte lady passes by......" (Lord, they were innocent days).

Our models agreed to drop by on their way out so I set some lights up, hoping for an atmospheric shot, using the lamplight. Sadly they had to go on to their other appointment before it started to get dark, but we shot anyway and had some fun:

More From Victoria Road:

'Cousin' Jeremy:

Our friends Jeremy and Jo Cross, invaluable helpers on the Victoria Road 'Each a Kingdom' project were good enough to let me interrupt their regular Saturday morning joust  with The Times crossword to make pictures of them doing that. 

Their house is so welcoming, informal but commanding respect, that I made further excuses to shoot them in a corner of their sitting-room.

This is the great thing about Victoria Road and its people; from outside the houses look similar and in some cases identical, but when you're invited in, everything changes. And its not just he way in which many of the properties have been altered or extended; it's the people and the way they live. 

Long live that difference!

WARGAMES; I Understand Now!

I misspent some of my early youth playing with (NO! Building) model railways in various damp cellars in and around Coventry, but still, as an adult, found it difficult to understand grown men and women (the ratio being something like infinity to one) re-enacting historic battles with toy (NO! Model) soldiers, chariots and tanks. Until yesterday (yesterday being Thursday 5th April 2018) that is. My transformation happened in a wooden workshop, otherwise called a man-shed (all males should have one), adjacent to a house idyllically-set on a hillside overlooking one of my previous matrimonial homes. Philip Mackie, better known as Eyeball of Devizes, the respected PR consultant, is its enthusiastic occupant and it was he who explained how you can constructively re-play (say) The Battle of Roundway Down even though its result is a matter of historical fact. 

Like most games of chance, from family cribbage to twenty-four-seven Las Vegas, it's all down to a roll of the dice.  I won't explain; it's too complicated, you wouldn't understand.

But just like model railways, it seems that the joy for model wargamers is not so much in the running (operating) of it, but in its preparation -- its building, painting, accessorising, collecting. Philip showed me how:

 From a selection of what appeared to be several thousand pots of paint, he very carefully manipulated a 000 brush, retouching, for me, one he'd made earlier. Apparently one buys the basic casting, these days in pewter, which is then painted in the team colours, with extra-fine detailing requiring the extra-powerful magnifiers: 

......and then there's the scenery. Grasses, bushes, trees, fences and even bridges add to the picture, all bought in litte packets, selected, plucked, fitted and coloured, accurately and lovingly.

Thanks, Philip; I'll be back.

Mentoring With Chillingworth

I attended a Mentoring Session with John Chillingworth Hon FRPS, Hon FBIPP, legendary ex-Picture Post photographer, at his home in Devizes on April 1 2018.

He opened by showing me a book of monochrome portraits by the late Jane Bown:

We discussed techniques for achieving satisfactory portraits using existing light only, after Chillingworth criticised my use of fill-in flash, suggesting that I 'looked for photographs rather than looking for pictures'.

He described his techniques, using mainly Nikon film cameras, remembering that Jane Bown used mainly Leicas, although a self-portrait in one of her books shows her using an Olympus SLR:

We discussed the possible differences in viewer appreciation of images between monochrome and colour capture, concluding that perhaps monochrome demanded more viewer involvement, making for deeper content appreciation.

We ended the session by suggesting that I should make portraits using existing light only and discuss results with Chillingworth in a week's time. I agreed to do this.

END 

The Project; 23 March 2018:

Great progress, thanks to the people of Victoria Road: Jeremy and Jo, Jo Number Two (her title), Phillippa and Dec(lan) and Genevieve and Chris. All really nice folks, helpful and welcoming. The first shoot was with Jo who lives at the top of the road; nice chat over a cup of tea then mini-tour of the (immaculate) house, leading to some pictures:

I couldn't resist a quick shot of this radiator, well past its shelflife but working well and looking good:

Thanks Jo.

Then to Genevieve and Chris. As you may see, there's an important Happening expected any day, but we chatted and took some shots in time, conscious that Genevieve was a bit unsettled through movements she was feeling within her tummy. Happily, Himself inside there (we all know it's a 'He'; that's confirmed) behaved and we were able to shoot informally as the two to-be-parents admired the new bookshelves by which Chris had confirmed his DIY credentials.

(prizes for suggestions re the conversation)

Susie and I spent another hour or so delivering letters to the blocks of flats at the other end of Victoria Road yesterday (Thursday) asking for help and involvement. Sadly lots of the outside doors were locked so we couldn't get access to many of the addresses, but hope springs eternal. If anyone reading this feels inclined to help, please just email to me at johnbigglestone@me.com. I'd love to hear from you.

Phillippa and Dec(lan) next; they've got a Wurlitzer, you know!

See you later. JB 

  tummy her 

Victoria Road, Devizes

Progress with The Diversity Project

Several Victoria Road residents responded to my initial letter asking for their involvement in my Cultural Diversity project, the first of which was Jeremy Cross who not only offered help but also invited Susie and me to his house to meet his wife Jo and some of their friends. Accordingly, we spent a delightful hour there last evening (Saturday 24th) that more than made up for having earlier to witness England rugby team capitulate feebly to a rampaging and highly motivated Scotland fifteen. 

As everyone always says, isn't life funny? Jeremy and I had been chatting for less than five minutes when it occurred to us both that we had experienced many of the same things in our younger days; our August birthdays just a year apart, a family history in Coventry, our boyhood schools very close to each other (we both sat the first 'O' Level exam in the same year), a shared interest and experiences in the West Midlands, friends and contacts in specific parts of Coventry -- it became apparent that we were almost cousins! How lovely.

 Now I'm using Jeremy's previous experience to help me formulate an initial survey form to learn the basic facts about people who I can interview and photograph for my project.

Serendipity strikes again!

John 

Hello This Saturday Evening;

Leicester have just beaten Harlequins and four people are posing about on a TV programme called The Voice -- then there's the contenstants, warbling away, trying to sound like their heroes. Why?

As for me, I wanted to shoot some Devizes Town action this morning so drove in, parked the Volvo in front of The Bear and looked around. At nothing. Oh, there were a few people about, mainly strangers looking at maps to find out where the hell they are or locals waiting for a bus to take them to somewhere more interesting. But as far as excitement was concerned, it was there in a negative quantity.

So I got myself a haircut. Well, I'd missed my regular appointment two days before Christmas so I was looking like something from a desert island who'd not seen a human being for fifty years.

I walked out from the barbers shop convinced that I was going to find scenes and people I wanted to photograph; interesting souls doing fascinating things, lit with a most beautiful light.

These are he picures I took:

Well, that was Devizes  this Saturday morning. 

  

Hi Again

Having made a pigs ear of my blog page design, I'll start again.

It's the end of January; a bad month unless you're still alive and relatively well. In which case it's a good month. It has its problems, not the least that it's grey, cold, wet and you're brassic. 

Let's forget January then.

I've just started on the Diversity project that has taken precedence over the Class and Faces projects that I was planning to do for the first Trimester of the course.  The first thing I did was to decide that I wasn't going to look at easy targets like inner-city deprived areas, Benefit Streets or refugees, but I plan to find out about ethnic, religious,
class, sexual orientation, political and other diversities within my own town, Devizes. Not much diversity, you might opine, but diversity and super-diversity has taken the place of the discredited multiculturality, so there's a lot of subtle differences in people's outlooks/beliefs than one would imagine at first sight.

I  thought that I should first find out the basic facts and figures about the Town By interviewing people who know -- people on the Town Council, senior police officers and church leaders, so I contacted Town Clerk Simon Fisher at The Town Hall, with whom I'd worked years ago making pictures for the Town Guide. What nice man! He gave me over an hour of his time last Friday and gave me a run-down of Devizes past, present and future. And I have to say that the future is bright for this little market town.

This is the man himself:

Simon gave me some addresses to contact, which I have done. Watch this space.

Meantime, at Richmond Athletic Ground near Kew in London, we spent the first of (I hope) many sessions photographing rugby matches. Why? Well, to reach UK minority groups -- Welsh, Irish, Scottish, where better to go than the locations where regional groups like those congregate? There's the pubs, yes -- but those maybe later; I opted first to contact the London rugby clubs catering for those displaced from their home regions -- London Welsh, London Irish and London Scottish.   The Welsh and the Scots responded enthusiastically to my initial emails asking for their co-operation though I'm still looking to hear from the Irish. We were invited to watch and photograph the game between London Scottish and Ealing Trailfinders on 27th Feb at Richmond.

First, let me advise you to ignore your sat-nav in favour of common sense when you're trying to get to Richmond. DON'T GO M4; take whatever route will get you onto the M3 and find it that way.

But we made it -- a few minutes late, wet, cold and a bit worried cos I was looking for a stadium but found a sort of 'community ground' with just one basic stand. However, the good news is that it turned out to be a great experience and an example of local support -- there might have been up to 300 people there, many of them supporting the opposition -- Ealing isn't that far away -- and the game was carried out in the best traditions of sport, none of your prima-donna football behaviour, nobody dived all afternoon and everyone respected the ref, never questioning his decisions. 

We weren't equipped to do top-quality sports photography -- Susie had the D3  with a 70-200mm lens and I worked the D800E and a short zoom, trying to catch individual players. 

Sadly, they were all too pretty! A bit of an overstatement if you like, but I was looking for typical Scottish faces, preferably muddy, a bit battered and if possible, a touch bloody. But this was the First Team, young, athletic and as fit as butchers' dogs, all of them. I found only one who looked like he'd been in a few Glasgow disagreements, but he was on the subs' bench and didn't take any active part in the game while we were there.

picture by Susie Bigglestone 

I think London Welsh has to right idea, in that they recommended that I should attend a Third Team game (they call them 'The Occies'  -- short for The Occasionals), who, I'm assured are 'all shapes and sizes' and might show a bit of character in their faces.

Our trip to Richmond on that grey, cold, wet day wasn't a great success as a photographic expedition, but  was thoroughly enjoyable otherwise. Gets you out of the house, y'know.

 liSSSSkSe inner-city deprived areas, Benefit ~Streets or 

End of a Long Month

Hello

It's coming up to the end of January 2018; My Lord, is it that time already?

Ordinarily, Januaries are bad enough months; Christmas has been and gone, pressies used or forgotten, grey days, long nights, cold, either boozeless or habitually too much -- a bottle of red goes nowhere -- and a distinct lack of money. Where did the time go? Where did the cash go? Where did all the goodwill and fellowship go? 

This Jan has been worse than usual from just about every point of view. Not only are the days universally grey but we've been invaded by a virus that has caused through-the-night coughing, sneezing and general fed-upness throughout the family. Yes, I know; us and millions like us throughout the land.

But it's coming to an end. Having sold most of my kit and half my soul on eBay, the bills are paid; Susie has identified the authors of several of the Albumen prints, (contact prints from 15"x12" glass plates) given to me at Salisbury College fifty years ago by John Barker who taught three-dimensional design there, so that we know a) they're not worth millions but b) they're genuine pictures from Italy, Greece and Iran which have a history and a visual value all of their own, and I've found the most interesting area for research in the study of ethnographic diversity. A book dropped onto the mat a week or so ago, accompanied by an invoice for £105 ("HOW MUCH?" I shrieked, before looking more closely at the document to see it said 'No Payment Required; Review Copy') called 'Ethnography, Diversity and Urban Space', published by Routledge. 

Fascinating; a gem of a book; edited by Mette Louise Berg, Ben Gidley and Nando Sigona, it discusses diversity in terms not only of ethnicity but also of class, religion, sexual orientation and all stations north.

I plan to put the practises and principles to use in two immediate areas: first, I've already approached the regional London rugby clubs (London Irish, London Scottish and London Welsh) for permission to photograph some of their players, and second, I've just made an appointment with one of the Devizes Town Clerks to talk with him about the diversity (or lack of it) here in my home town. I don't want to look at the usual targets, you see, like inner-city deprived areas; I want to find out about the people here -- those that I have put into my new 'Standard Class' -- not upper management but not on benefits either, who are our neighbours, friends, work colleagues and family.

And I chose the rugby clubs because I wanted to photograph regional faces and figures -- and where better to find them than where regional people gather -- in this case to cheer on their compatriots on the rugby field. 

Do stay with me; I hope to make cauliflower ears, flattened noses and toothless grins into works of art. 

Well, you have to try, don't you?

Have a good day.

John