Bristol Old Vic

The Bristol Old Vic have commissioned me to create images for a play scheduled for next March. 'Juliet and her Romeo' is Tom Morris's first production as new director of Britain's longest running theatre. Tom's adaptation of "Shakespeare's text with some cuts," is performed by octogenarians and set in a care-home. The images should be unapologetic, beautiful and celebrate love's ability to transcend age - not buried in digital-botox.
 

Sîan Phillips CBE

Tom has cast iconic Welsh actress Sian Phillips CBE as his Juliet. Sian's distinctive features and extraordinary presence command the frame. Her lover is to be played by the wickedly charming Michael Byrne - a surprising role model who made me want to sprint to seventy. Sian and Michael regaled me with stories of them with legends such as Olivier, Jacobi, Richardson and Guinness. With 141 years of experience between them they are hyperlinks to stage and cinema history. One anomaly struck me as out-of-sync; neither had seen Romeo and Juliet performed on stage!
 

Michael Byrne

  This was pre-pre-production and to make the exercise more of a challenge this would be the first time the principal actors had met. I had two and a half hours to shoot in a production office donated by Jerwood Studios. The intimate 4x3 metre space, complete with desks and chairs would have to make do. Fortunately there were no assistants, wardrobe or props. I maneuvered between a web of cables and stands, careful not to spark a domino-effect. The session opened with Sîan. She was well accustomed to the lens. Once I'd found a niche in her repertoire of reflexive poses I moved swiftly on. Michael was photo-putty; playful, provocative and consummately versatile.
 Today would have been my fathers birthday - he'd have enjoyed the company.

(selection of outtakes)

 In the days of photo-chemistry I operated within the confines of the characteristics of manufacturer's film and papers. Once the shutter was pressed the process came to an end, save a few arbitrary adjustments made by the printer. The photographic community's appetite for manipulation was whet with the advent of (Ilford) Multi-Grade. They embraced it's ability to allow the manipulation of not only exposure but also contrast. The photographer (or printer) could be further imbued in the image by the shake of a mask or wave of a dodging wand.

A liquid crystal now radiates where a halide crystal once burned and the physical imprint continues through the photographer's stylus. The connection is strengthened and expanded exponentially through the myriad tones, colours and hues at the disposal of today's photographer. The digital palette marks the departure from the one-click traditionalist.

After more than a decade in my Adobe cell I have developed a synergy integral to the creating of my images. Intervention by the most skillful pixel surgeon only derails expression and severs the creative link.

No one else can do this for me - I won't to apportion credit for my vision.

Captain Kirk

Kirk (Teasdale),Gateshead '07

This is the jaundiced specter of an angel of the north. Kirk forewarned me "look out for Bart(Simpson) in his mam's slippers." He'd travelled by public transport in his mother's baffies - his ankles were too swollen to fit his shoes. It was a bleak winter's day in Gateshead- verging on the Baltic. Nothing was going to stand between Kirk and a good blether, not even a recent liver transplant.

 I first met Kirk 18 years ago when he was the ebullient Geordie art-director of Time Out magazine. He had a reputation for bold commissioning and could bend ears like a clown with a box of balloons. Kirk summoned me into his office after being tickled by a photograph in which I'd coerced John Galliano to strip down to his loafers. Despite our local derby differences Kirk always fought my corner. He loved to book a ring-side seat at my shoots and embroider "the tale."

Kirk now, '09 Baltic Flour Mills, Gateshead

 Kirk is winning his battle against alcohol, but keeps warring on; shirked the demons and the yella-fella. He's unburdening some of his emotional debt by creating a coordinated interface between transplant services, donors and recipients.

 In his time as art-director at Time Out Magazine he discovered and nurtured many photographers who went on to lead successful careers. One to such photographer to benefit from his stewardship was fashion photographer John Wardell AKA 'Rankin'.

 I gave Kirk my hand and he resisted the temptation to be himself, choosing instead to parody a patient he'd observed in rehab. As I said, he can't help telling the tale - long may he keep spinning.

Big Issue- Vendor Awards

Peter (Corstophine)

 

Scott (Lowrie)

Local dignitaries, politicos and the homeless rubbed shoulders at the Merchant's House, Glasga. The occasion was to mark the first vendors awards - Real Lives, Real Achievements.Joan, John, Scott and Barry were rightly celebrated for their role as ambassadors for the homeless and the Big Issue.

 

 

Barrie (Greenan)

Everyone was well turned out; in their best and on their best- well almost. Barrie couldn't resist shouting back answers to the speaker's rhetorical questions - something they hadn't scripted for. Each vendor gave a short acceptance speech recognising the pivotal role the Big Issue played in turning their lives around. It was one of those rare occasion; a ceremony that counted for something, reality without the tv.

The celebratory mood was briefly tempered when John broke news from the podium of his and Lisa's imminent relocation south of the border. As a keepsake of the moment Lisa asked for a 'photie o' evrywan." Martin piped-up "put yer hons oot."

Stephen Robertson, CEO The Big Issue

The big guns were in attendance. CEO Stephen Robertson applauded the achievements of the vendors and spoke of the urgent need for the expansion of the services to be provided by a Big Issue Scottish Foundation.

Big Issue founder John Bird CBE (above) gave an impassioned speech recalling the inception of the Big Issue in Scotland in '69. The organisation had come a long way and was more vital than ever. He distinguished the aims of The Big Issue from that of 'charities' with a salient turn of phrase - "the Big Issue is a hand-up, not a hand-out." 
 With genuine concern John suggested I upgrade my camera (a compact) for something more professional and wondered if I knew that "the Big Issue discovered Rankin?" I presumed he didn't mean on the streets. He probably thought, sincerely, that I could benefit from his years of experience in the publishing industry.  Or, had I been ranked?

Saltmarket Sting

The wind was coursing the Saltmarket like an ice-hockey stick in search of a puck. It had found David who'd torn-up the script "tha's it, nae mare drugs." David was homeless - again. He's used to being on his own, he'd lost his ma and tried to take his life but the branch broke- a hard lesson to swallow. His flat was torched, everything was lost: his music system, dvd's, even the freeview. Stood in all his worldly goods: trackie gear and unblemished trainers, he dug out 75p, all he had to his name - enough for one copy.

 David

David pitched-up at Argos car park as the rain pecked through the polyester. It's tough to start over- again, he begins his day the Baron Sugar way: buys one copy, sells one copy, buys two copies... 
 Jimmy got unstuck at 12 with his first bag of glue. Drug and alcohol fueled abuse followed. Now he's re-born and recovering, seeing the world anew through fervoured eyes.
  "Can you bless me?" he asked sheepishly, "Put yer hon' on ma heed?" He paused and plucked-up courage "Can I return the blessin'? Can I put ma hon' on the camera?"

"Tell them 'am 'Healin Hons' Jimmy."

Jimmy's eyes are a slew-gate, metering the cycle of touching "hons." His life is on probation, sentenced to another night curfewed from society. He dreads going back to the hostel and fears the delinquent nights. It's been his shelter for fourteen years but he'd never call it home. He needs his faith and, he confesses, The Big Issue.