This was our first year exhibiting in the Artist Open Houses festival and thanks to the 1500 visitors we had over four weekends, it was a great success. For those that missed, we featured photographic works of Ted Davis and oil painting and drawing by Annie Mendelow. Thank you to everyone who joined us, we will certainly open again next year for the festival. We will also open for various events throughout the year featuring guest artist private exhibitions, and host photographic workshops so watch this space!

Front gallery showing the work of Annie Mendelow.

Ted Davis standing beside some of his work.

Victorian Famly Portrait

Following a visit to the British Museum for the exhibition Points of View - Capturing the 19th Century in Photographs, I attended a talk on the Photography of Lewis Carroll given by Edward Wakeling. He gave an illustrated talk about the photography of Lewis Carroll and tackled the myths that surround it. The lecture was superb and interesting. Wakeling read out excerpts from Carroll’s poem Hiawatha’s Photographing which proved very entertaining. In it, Carroll jabs at the typical Victorian photographer and sitter.

Hiawatha’s Photographing

by Lewis Carroll

From his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together,
In its case it lay compactly,

Folded into nearly nothing;
But he opened out the hinges,
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,
Till it looked all squares and oblongs,
Like a complicated figure
In the second book of Euclid.
This he perched upon a tripod,
And the family in order
Sat before him for their pictures.

Mystic, awful was the process.
First a piece of glass he coated
With Collodion,and plunged it
In a bath of Lunar Caustic
Carefully dissolved in water:
There he left it certain minutes.
Secondly, my Hiawatha
Made with cunning hand a mixture
Of the acid Pyro-gallic,
And of Glacial Acetic,
And of Alcohol and water:
This developed all the picture.

Finally, he fixed each picture
With a saturate solution
Of a certain salt of Soda -
Chemists call it Hyposulphite.
(Very difficult the name is
For a metre like the present,
But periphrasis has done it.)
All the family in order
Sat before him for their pictures.
Each in turn, as he was taken,
Volunteered his own suggestions,
His invaluable suggestions.

First the Governor, the Father:
He suggested velvet curtains
Looped about a massy pillar;
And the corner of a table,
Of a rose-wood dining table.
He would hold a scroll of something,
Hold it firmly in his left hand;
He would keep his right hand buried
(Like Napoleon)
in his waistcoat;
He would contemplate the distance
With a look of pensive meaning,
As of ducks that die in tempests.
Grand, heroic was the notion:
Yet the picture failed entirely:
Failed, because he moved a little,
Moved, because he couldn’t help it.

Next, his better half took courage;
She would have her picture taken:
She came dressed beyond description,
Dressed in jewels and in satin
Far too gorgeous for an empress.
Gracefully she sat down sideways,
With a simper scarcely human,
Holding in her hand a nosegay
Rather larger than a cabbage.
All the while that she was taking,
Still the lady chattered, chattered,
Like a monkey in the forest.
‘Am I sitting still?’ she asked him.
’
Is my face enough in profile?
Shall I hold the nosegay higher?
Will it come into the picture?’
And the picture failed completely.

Next the Son, the Stunning-Cantab:
He suggested curves of beauty,
Curves pervading all his figure,
Which the eye might follow onward,
Till they centred in the breast-pin
Centred in the golden breast-pin.
He had learnt it all from Ruskin
(Author of ‘The Stones of Venice’,
‘Seven Lamps of Architecture’,
‘Modern Painters’, and some others);
And perhaps he had not fully
Understood his author’s meaning;
But, whatever was the reason,
All was fruitless, as the picture
Ended in an utter failure.

Next to him the eldest daughter:
She suggested very little;
Only asked if he would take her
With her look of ‘passive beauty’.
Her idea of passive beauty
Was a squinting of the left-eye,
Was a drooping of the right-eye,
Was a smile that went up sideways
To the corner of the nostrils.
Hiawatha, when she asked him,
Took no notice of the question,
Looked as if he hadn’t heard it;
But, when pointedly appealed to,
Smiled in his peculiar manner,
Coughed and said it ‘didn’t matter’,
Bit his lip and changed the subject.
Nor in this was he mistaken,
As the picture failed completely.

So in turn the other sisters.
Last, the youngest son was taken:
Very rough and thick his hair was,
Very round and red his face was,
Very dusty was his jacket,
Very fidgetty his manner.
And his overbearing sisters
Called him names he disapproved of:
Called him Johnny,
‘Daddy’s Darling’,
Called him Jacky,
‘Scrubby School-boy’.
And, so awful was the picture,
In comparison the others
Might be thought to have succeeded,
To have partially succeeded.

Finally my Hiawatha
Tumbled all the tribe together,
‘Grouped’ is not the right expression,
And, as happy chance would have it,
Did at last obtain a picture
Where the faces all succeeded:
Each came out a perfect likeness.
Then they joined and all abused it,
Unrestrainedly abused it,
As ‘the worst and ugliest picture
They could possibly have dreamed of.
Giving one such strange expressions!
Sulkiness, conceit, and meanness!
Really any one would take us
(Any one that did not know us)
For the most unpleasant people!’
(Hiawatha seemed to think so,
Seemed to think it not unlikely.)
All together rang their voices,
Angry, loud, discordant voices,
As of dogs that howl in concert,
As of cats that wail in chorus.

But my Hiawatha’s patience,
His politeness and his patience,
Unaccountably had vanished,
And he left that happy party,
Neither did he leave them slowly,
With that calm deliberation,
That intense deliberation
Which photographers aspire to:
But he left them in a hurry,
Left them in a mighty hurry,
Vowing that he would not stand it,
Hurriedly he packed his boxes,
Hurriedly the porter trundled
On a barrow all his boxes;
Hurriedly he took his ticket,
Hurriedly the train received him:
Thus departed Hiawatha.

]]> http://www.studio323.co.uk/blog/2010/03/10/hiawathas-photographing/feed/ http://www.studio323.co.uk/blog/2009/04/29/artist-open-house-exhibition/ http://www.studio323.co.uk/blog/2009/04/29/artist-open-house-exhibition/#comments Wed, 29 Apr 2009 15:43:30 +0000 admin http://www.studio323.co.uk/?p=182 Probably one of Britain’s biggest free art event, the Artist Open House festival, involves over 1,000 artists and makers showing their work in public and private venues across Brighton and Hove. The event sees homes, gardens, and studios across the city to be transformed into impromptu gallery space.

This year during the festival, I am showing photography alongside 12 other artists.  My work on display is a collection of photographs that address the theme of transience, beauty and atrophy in cut flowers. Drawing parallel to the ideas around ‘Wabi Sabi’, the photos in this collection attempt to challenge the normal association of death, or decay with an aesthetic that suggests beauty in things we conventionally consider to be imperfect.

I love cut flowers. Most people do. Cut flowers can brighten up a sad day, decorate the surroundings of a special event, or can simply bring a little cheer into one’s life. A grim truth is that once cut, a flower is dead. From that point on, it is placed in a vase, where it begins to oxidize and rot, during which time we take certain pleasure from their color and aroma filling a room. Then after a week or so, they begin to turn, and we throw them away before they begin to smell horrible, or when a new batch occupies the vase.

This work looks at that very moment that we normally decide these flowers are no longer fit for their purpose. The moment all the petals fall off a tulip, or when a daffodil turns to crinkled paper.  For me, I see a rare and particular beauty in flowers when they are at this stage, when their aura becomes humble, and their poise turns slightly wizened. It is like a good bye and thank you. The time after which you have become familiar with this flower, and it has become unique in all the world.

Against a white background with simple lighting, I have photographed household cut flowers before they’ve turned completely, in order that each will be remembered for its unique color and character, and the joy it has brought to life through sacrifice.

This work is on view at the All Saints Church in Hove each weekend in May. Numbered Giclee prints measuring 60 x 80 cm on Hahnemuhle Photo Pag paper will be available for purchase.

View more images from the collection.

a fundraising activity where baked goods such as doughnuts, cupcakes and cookies, sometimes along with ethnic foods, are sold. Bake sales are usually held by small, non-profit organizations, such as clubs, school groups and charitable organizations. Bake sales are often set up around an area of pedestrian traffic, such as outside a grocery store or at a busy intersection near a mall.

This Easter marked the 4th annual jumble sale Jamboree held by the Brighton Gay Mens Chorus down at the Brighton Tavern. More than just a Bake Sale, it was an event not to be missed!

This year’s highlight was undoubtedly the Milford Junction Refreshment Rooms that revived a wartime spirit to a drizzly rainy day. Tea and a cake for just two pounds including one page from your ration booklet, not a bad deal in these credit crunching times!  Other contributions to the Jamboree included Magical Maximus Bill Gleave giving enlightened guidance postcard readings, Andy from Pressure Point offering spine tingling massages on the premises, Jake and some homegrown allotment beanstalks, and lots of jumble junk contributions from many of the chorus members. All selling for visitor polished pennies,  together raising £573.64 towards the 2009 pride show.  WELL DONE BOYS!

more photos from the event

The Austin 7 was a vintage car produced from 1922 through to 1939 in the United Kingdom by the Austin Motor Company. It was one of the most popular cars ever produced there and wiped out most other British small cars and cyclecars of the early 1920s.

Walking on Brighton seafront today was a quick step back in time, with over 400 pre-war Austins on display at Madeira drive. I am always amazed at these types of shows,  vast numbers of people coming together to share a similar interest, to celebrate a piece of technology, and their ability to keep it alive. Many dressed up in their furs and ate pic nics out of chassis baskets strapped up to the back of their cars. I took most interest in the details, the table of spare gaskets, the smell of engine grease and the horsehair poking up out of the stale leather interior seats.  How comfortable could they be? Who was the first owner of this car? how long did it sit and rust away before someone decided to polish it up again?

Leaving the show, I wondered if in sixty seventy years time, we’d be oggling at boyracer cars on display, with neon underlighting still in tact on some.

I was taken by this young girl and her camera, she was most inquisitive and I was inspired to see such a young photographer. I hope to one day see her photos.

photo by Rob Macdonald

“My concern is that with digital imaging being what it is these days, and photography being where it is, all these lovely images that were once put to print, will get lost. When someone dies, will their hard drive be collected? and all these images printed?”

This is a paraphrased comment made by my friend Rob Macdonald, he is a photographer. He feels he is a dying breed because he prefers the old fashioned way of taking his roll of film to the shop and getting his roll of 36 printed.

Today I went to buy a backup for my new macbook pro, and got completely swept up with the storage capacity. The only reason I didn’t buy a terabyte external drive is because it was so bloody expensive. This does not mean I didn’t suffer from photo loss paranoia though. I am strangely superstitious about images, I collect photos of strangers, and I can never, ever, throw away a picture of someone no matter how poor it is.

I suppose in years to come as photography matures, and technology enables us to share our imaginations virtually in better ways, all these digital photos will float around somewhere in electronic connectivity, and never be lost. If something is lost, it means that it cannot be found, and is that not what technology is helping us to do? to sort and support findability?

Tomorrow I am going to begin the tutorial lesson on tagging and meta keywording my images.

Another thing I discussed with Rob tonight, was what photography meant for us personally. For me it is about providing access to places that one normally couldn’t go. Celebrity shots let us peer into homes of the rich and famous. Travel photography lets us access Thailand, China, or the Antarctic from the comfort of our own home.

Rob commented that it may even one day give access to one’s imagination. I think it does just that when the photographer is an artist.