Desert Island Photo Books - 8

I really should have learned the lesson by now, to never make predictions for what I'm going to do. This 'should' be my post about the books which didn't quite make it to my imaginary desert island, but it's not. That post may well have disappeared into the black hole of my 'plans that won't get fulfilled'!

 The English by Ian Berry.

 

This is number eight, and the one book I would save from the waves if my sandy library was threatened. It's top of my heap whichever way I pile my photobooks for a number of reasons. Not least being that it was the first photobook I bought, back in 1978 when it was published. I guess I found out about it through one of the magazines I used to buy at the time - the weekly Amateur Photographer and  monthly Practical Photography. It was an eye-opener.

Here were photographs which weren't all about technique which is how those in the mags' features came across accompanied by the details of shutter speed, f-stop and filter. While there is a little info on the cameras, lenses and films used that's as far as it goes for technical information. What mattered was the pictures, and they really made an impact on me.

 

That was down to a combination of composition and subject matter, decisive moments and framing. Here was a book of pictures which happened to be photographs. Pictures which showed me there could be more to photographs than the 'camera club' fare I'd been exposed to through the populist photography media of the day.

Even back then I was drawn to pictures of life in Britain, in England in this case. That's something which has stuck with me ever since. I have photobooks by photographers about other parts of the world but the ones I look at most frequently are those about the island I live on.

Somewhere along the line my original copy of The English went missing. When I rekindled my interest in photography in 2010 I dug out all my photobooks and catalogues but no matter where I searched The English was not to be found. Eventually I gave in and found a copy on-line for £35 which felt a bit steep considering the condition it's in. Checking prices recently it's starting to look like a bargain!

Aside from the wonderful pictures what I like about this book is that it is a paperback (a hardback was produced but I guess I couldn't afford it back then any more than I could justify its used price today) published by a mainstream publishing house, Penguin. That meant that it was widely available for a reasonable price - £12. This, to me, suggests that it's target audience was not photographers but the general public.

If the current surge in popularity for photobooks is to be believed, and there does seem to be plenty of them appearing these days, it is mostly taking place within a limited photocentric audience. Look at the short print runs of many titles and it makes it plain enough that these books are not aimed at the person in the street.

A run of 500, while common for contemporary photobooks, is, frankly, pathetic. My pike rig book sold three times that back in the 1990s, and the pike fishing book market is pretty niche. Maybe they aim is a collectors' market. And given the high price of some publications that could be the case but it doesn't apply across the board. It's far more like vanity publishing in a lot of cases rather than a financial venture. Sure it's great to get work 'out there' but to 500 people?

The same applies to the photography zine world where print runs can be even more limited. One or two hundred being pretty standard. There's lots of material being produced, but it's being seen by other people producing zines. While I'm a fan of making zines as a way to preserve (hopefully) work I am beginning to question this making zines and photographs to be seen only by other zine making photographers. It's all a bit incestuous.

Zines are cheap, that's the point of them, get them to a wider audience. Even if that means giving them away! Of course here we run into the hurdle of subject matter. Your average non-photographer isn't likely to be interested in a zine full of empty urban scenes no mater how well composed they are. If that's your kind of subject matter than get creative with your distribution. Hide copies on the shelves of public libraries, leave them on train seats, get them out in the wider world any way you can!

Better still make photographs people relate to and give zines of them to the people in the photos, be that local communities or subculture groups. And by subculture I don't mean it as in motorbike gangs or fasionistas I mean it as in flower arrangers and yarn bombers! Or in my case poultry fanciers and sheep breeders.

The best photobooks to my mind are affordable, accessible and widely available. The English was just that.

---

Desert Island Photo Books - 7

Almost done. In case anyone hasn't sussed it, I'm primarily interested in photographs of British people in Britain. Where the landscape is involved I like to see people, or at least animals, in it. The mania among landscape photographers for showing it as unpopulated really frustrates me. Perhaps in far flung corners of the world the landscape hasn't been populated or manipulated, but in Britain it has - for millennia.

The British have a special relationship with the countryside, part nostalgic reverence and part a desire to make it like the indoors, or at least utilise it as they would an urban space.

This is why Simon Roberts's book We English is on my list. Taken on a journey round England Roberts used social media to have places to visit suggested to him, which is an interesting idea and helps the book reflect how the English see their outdoors as a place to enjoy in a peculiarly English way.

The large format photographs, taken from a high viewpoint, contain lots of detail and probably work even better as large prints, but the book format is fine by me.

 

My next 'Desert Island' post will not be my number one choice, but a quick mention of some books which didn't quite make it. Just to keep heighten the suspense!

 

---

Desert Island Photo Books - 6

Sea Coal by the late Chris Killip. I've nothing to say about this other than it's bloody brilliant.Another one that would be number one if I was making this a ranked list!

---

Desert Island Photo Books - 5

Ken Grant is usually associated with square format black and white photographs of Merseysiders, but Flock is a colour work recording the last days of Hereford's auction mart, the place, the auctions and the people, plus a little documentation of the new build, out of town, mart.

 

 

I first came across this work on Grant's website where it was under the heading 'The Bird House' when I was embarking on my poultry photography. It was a bit of a downer to find someone else had photographed poultry auctions, but I soon accepted that as inevitable and that I was photographing a different mart in a different way.

 

The book expands on the poultry auctions and shows the range of other sales which took place. Having expanded into photographing sheep sales myself I now wish there were more sheep pictures in the book!

 

 

From a point of view of this book as an object it strikes the right balance for me in terms of size at rough;y A4. Not too big to make holding it a pain in the arse, but not so small that detailed photographs don't reveal all.

A book of straightforward pictures recording something the recent end of a long era. Pictures which stand revisiting to see little things missed in previous perusals. And it fits in my theme for these desert island books, and my photobook collection in general.

---

Desert Island Photobooks - 4

I was sure I'd written about book number 4 in this blog before, but the search function failed to turn anything up for either title or author. Despite my prejudice against black and white photography in the 21st century Hunting with Hounds by Homer Sykes, published in 2004, makes it to my desert island on the strength of the pictures and the subject matter. Those paying attention to my choices may have spotted a theme among my preferred subjects.

 

This book documents the last year that certain kinds of hunting wild animals with dogs was allowed in England. If there is a 'side' being taken it's not immediately obvious to my eyes, although the introduction is written by Roger Scruton. It is not all whippers in and stirrup cups in the gently rolling hills of Old England. There's lurcher work and ratting too.

Leaving aside ethical or political concerns surrounding the subject matter the photography is of the classic documentary type, but in square format rather than 3:2, with the subtle humour of Tony Ray-Jones and a touch of nostalgia. The nostalgic aspect is unavoidable as this is a record of the end of something in it's current form, in its legal entirety in some cases.

There are short texts at the start of each section which are invaluable to anyone who knows nothing of how hunting is/was practised. Increasingly I find that such texts are invaluable in making a photographic documentary project work for a wider audience than that of photographers and photograph enthusiasts who are concerned purely with the pictures.

As an object the book is nicely printed in a sturdy softback format. I wish more photobooks were produced this way rather than in lavish hardbacks for the simple reason that it keeps the cost down without compromising the reproduction of the pictures. This can only be a good thing for getting the pictures and the story to as many people as possible, instead of keeping it within the narrow confines of the photo-world. 

Desert Island Photobooks - 3

Number three, and possibly number three favourite too, is a book which is unlikely to feature in any list of photobooks by members of the photobook elite. It was a  mainstream publication for one thing, there are intorductory chapters which explain almost everything, the pictures have captions and (shock, horror) there's a description of the cameras and films used. Hill Shepherd is possibly what the photobook snobs would call a middle of the road book. But John and Eliza Forder's pictures (there is no indication who took which photos) are not the sort of editorial photographs you might expect in a book like this.

 

 

 

Published in 1989 it was (as far as I can determine) their third book, the first in colour. The pictures in the black and white books look to me to be more in the camera club style. Very formally conservative in content and structure. The colour work in Hill Shepherd and it's follow up, Life in the Hills, are more in what I'd call 'classic documentary' in style.

Covering a the annual cycle of hill farming both text and pictures tell the story, the text including short quotes from unattributed farmers themselves. It would be all too easy for a subject such as this to be illustrated by idialised pictures, and while there is a hint of romanticism (and with the passage of time a stronger sense of nostalgia) it is tempered and not overpowering

Some pictures serve mostly as illustration or to complete the whole, but the strongest stand on their own with any of the best covering this subject or any other. Without a doubt this is one of my touchstone photobooks.

---

Desert Island Photobooks - 2

This isn't in at number seven because it's my seventh favourite photobook (I know this is post 2...), it's because I want to get it in early. If I could order my choices by favourites it would be much higher up.

As a subject the foot and mouth outbreak of 2001 is far from cheery, and not something anyone from the livestock farming community wants to celebrate. However Dark Days by John Darwell is an unsentimental, hard hitting yet poignant record of the troubled times. maybe with resonance for the current Covid pandemic too.

 

 

The format is much in line with how photobooks are formatted these days. Opening text, pictures, closing essay. Without the perspective of the essay and the captions the photographs would not have as much meaning to uninformed viewers.

While presented in the manner of an 'art' photobook it is very much documentary, no frills documentary at that. The pictures are clear to read, many are powerful and moving, and straighforward.

Despite the sadness of the story it's a book I return to often as a reminder of what photography can do, of it's power to show that which most never see and move them while doing it.

---

Desert Island Photobooks - 1

Ripping off the idea behind Desert Island Discs I've picked eight photobooks to keep me company on a desert island. As per the radio programme I'll be picking one to save if a wave crashes into my island and washes the small library away- which I'll save for last

It proved quite easy to pick the first seven books. hat, however, left me trying to decide which one of the dozens still on my shelves to put in the final spot. It wasn't easy as I hadn't included some of my favourite photographers in the seven. That was fine because this is a selection of books, not photographers. Nor had I included any 'classic' or 'seminal' books. The temptation of an exercise like this is to select what you think are the best eight photobooks of all time. That wasn't my aim and I deliberately left out the usual suspects.

What I was after were the eight books I find myself returning to time and again. Even so that final spot was proving difficult to fill. So I cheated!

It's a moot point whether retrospective collections of photographs in book form count as photobooks. They're more like catalogues in a way. If that hadn't been the case then I'm a Real Photographer would certainly have gone to my desert island.

Keith Arnatt's pictures are so varied in style and approach that there is always something new to find in them. They are serial works too, which is something that interests me. I also like how gentle humour and conceptual art mingle in many of the series. That aspect of making serious work which can be discussed 'intellectually' but not being po faced about it is refreshing.But it's not a photobook in the strict sense. Then again some of my other choices probably wouldn't meet the rigid definition in today's world as they contain text which is as much a part of the book as the pictures, in a way which the text in  'real' photobooks isn't. Today a photobook seems to have to have an essay by some academic wither about the subject of the photographs or the photographer. And the pictures mustn't have explanatory captions. Oh, no. That will never do in a 'real' photobook. More on this in later posts.

So I needed to find a proper photobook. I had been tempted to put Martin Parr's The Last Resort on the list, but much as I like it it was too obvious a pick. In any case, it's not the book of his I look at most often. In the end I went for Black Country Stories.

Apart from having more pictures to look at than the earlier book it's more varied in subject matter than The Last Resort and less acerbic than a lot of the work Parr is noted for. Not that I dislike that work, far from it, but there's something openly celebratory about the pictures in this book which appeals to me. There are also quite a few portraits and group portraits included, which is something I think Parr does well - in his own way!

That's my first choice. I might post my second one tomorrow. Or I might not!

---

Frozen out

No snow here, but it's been cold enough to freeze the ground solid which has given the farmers a chance to get machinery on the land and work under way. However a strong wind or really dull light has kept me indoors most of the time, with just a few late afternoon forays with a camera.

Even so new sights continue to appear when trudging the usual routes. They just get further apart than they used to.

When I did happen upon some activity I was a bit late on the scene and couldn't quite get the angles I wanted. The idea below was to have backlit gulls against dark fields. In addition to poor angles when the tractor got in range for a well framed shot it was too close to me for the gulls' comfort and they wheeled of and upwards.

That evening I did manage to get the setting sunlight reflecting off one of the road signs, which is a picture I've seen but never managed to take before. Usually when the sun is at the right angle to reflect it also casts my shadow into the frame. This time for some reason only the sign was lit.

 

 

Next time out I was later still and only managed a couple of pictures. One showing recent cultivation with still frozen surface water, the other what looks like hail stones but which are actually fertiliser pellets. Not important pictures on their own, but potentially useful in a series.

Being stuck indoors induces boredom. Boredom induces web browsing. Web browsing induces impulse purchases. I'd forgotten I'd ordered Joanne Coates's zine from ADM so it was a pleasant surprise to get an email notification that it was on its way. I'd seen the work on a number of websites over the last few years and was glad to have a hard copy of some pictures from it. It really needs a bigger publication with text to do it justice though.

When Camerasnaps tweeted a video of them going through Blood Sweat and Tears I immediately searched out a copy. Great documentary photography of the miners strike of 1984 published straight after the fact. If it had been a new publication I'd have given it a miss in keeping with my attempt to restrict my photobook buying to contemporary work, 'vintage' editions and the very occasional reprint at a more affordable price than the original of the same book on the collectors' market.

Also via Twitter I discovered The Dartmoor Collective and ordered a copy of their nice little collaborative zine, A Worked Landscape. A subject right up my street. Zines for a fiver are a great idea and should be encouraged.
 

The freeze finally came to an end today but it took a while for me to get work out of the way and make the most of the last hour of sunlight. I timed it just a bit late to catch some field and ditch work going on, and had to console myself with some static subject matter. An advantage of a flat landscape is teh ability to spot things which have appeared since a previous visit from afar. A big yellow digger by one of the pumps I have photographed numerous times had to be investigated.

I tried, and failed, to make a picture including one of the irrigation outlets but framing using the flip down screen was more trouble than I could be bothered with as time was short.

Even getting a shot of the digger on its own was tricky to frame without having something cutting into the left edge.

The greenhouses I sometimes walk by usually throw up some chance of a picture. If not of or through the glass then something reflected in it. Today was no exception. The greenhouses are used for bringing on houseplants and they are now being stocked up ready for the spring season. The trays of seedlings making for a nicely repetitive pattern.

The lack of contrast in the above picture being due to the dirty glass. The same applies to the picture below, with the addition of out of focus whitewash on the inside of the glass which I deliberately used as a device to provide a visual unifier to the picture's structure.

A reflected sunset is irresistible. So I didn't resist. Quite a few frames were exposed and only two or three worked. I tried focusing on the reflection and on the glass. The pictures with the sharp reflections were the most immediately satisfying. I've kept both versions though as I might change my mind with time. That's something I often do, keep two versions in case what initially appeals about a picture loses it's attraction as time passes.

With the warmer conditions set to stay for a while I'll be trying to get out and about more often, at more productive times. That's if work allows me to.

---

The democratic medium?

Before I get into my 'thought piece' some photos. The weather this past week has been wetter than ever, so I haven't been out much - with or without a camera. Thursday I drove round my most frequent walking route on the moss to see what was what as I didn't want to get caught in one of the frequent showers. I parked up and walked back to take some photos and before I reached where I wanted to take pictures I got hit by yet another load of rain. 

The downpours had made a significant impact on land that I hadn't seen so wet before.

 

Today the rain had gone and the sun was shining, although the sun did its usual disappearing act when I went out in the late afternoon. I'd put my wellies on because the field path had been under more water than I'd ever seen on Thursday. When I got to the field the wellies were more than sufficient s the water level had dropped back to below the ditch top. It was the same on the moss with the water being mostly back in the ditches. What a difference a day made.

Sunset is getting noticeably later now making it possible to get work done and still manage an hour or more wandering with the camera. This wood often attracts my attention at this time of year when teh sun sets behind, or almost behind, it. This evening  the glow from the low sun and the towering clouds made it look as if the wood were on fire. Or maybe I just have a vivid imagination?
 

Next to no photographs, certainly none with any great utility, and loads of rain. A dismal week all round.

Having been put in a miserable mood I got all gloomy an started pondering, for the umpteenth time, who is it that looks at zines and photobooks. Who are the people making these publications making them for? Given the limited print runs of most zines and books, and let's face it anything under tens of thousands is limited, I can only conclude that the audience is predominantly (if not entirely) other photographers plus those involved in the photo-world - gallerists, collectors, curators. this most democratic of media is making publications for an elite.

If that wasn't bad enough when I look at the price of photobooks these days they are creeping up beyond what I can justify paying. I grudgingly coughed up £45 for a copy of the reprint of Paul Graham's A1 because it was a book I had wanted for some time. Okay, so it was cheaper than buying a first edition, but compared to some other books I've bought it was a bit pricey. This week I saw that his Beyond Caring is to be reissued at the same price. Another book I'd like to have on my shelves but this time I'm wavering over the price. Almost a ton for two books. I could buy a whole library of zines for that kind of cash. I'd get a load more photos to look at that way. If I'm feeling flush when the release date nears I'll probably pull the trigger. However, Beyond Caring is scheduled to be the second of a trilogy of reprints over three years, the third being Troubled Land. This one doesn't interest me. I've never been a completist so not having 'the full set' wouldn't bother me at all. No doubt the publisher's hope if that most people aren't like me and will have to buy the hat trick.

I'm sure that the collecting of sets instinct, which I admit is tempting, works for a number of small zine publishers who produce publications which are uniform in cover design. I don't really have a problem with that as zines are still pretty affordable. Although buying them on a regular basis can soon put a dent in the bank balance.

Perhaps perversely, while I'll happily cough up a tenner for a small zine I am loathe to hand a similar sum over each month for a magazine like the BJP. When it was in the region of six quid I bought it fairly regularly, but when it got into double figures (despite it's increased heft) it had to have a lot of content which interested me to part me from my cash. Eventually I gave up on it altogether. Way back when I remember (perhaps wrongly) that the BJP was very much aimed at commercial photographers. More recently it seems to be aimed at the photo-art world. Another example of catering for an elite?

If a tenner is getting into the realms of putting off a pleb like me then what to make of something flagged up on The Online Photographer? At first glance a print magazine of photojournalism would be my kind of thing. especially one harking back to the days of Life, Picture Post, and the likes of the Sunday Times Magazine's long form photo features. Even though it was US based I had to check out The Curious Society. Particularly as it is fronted by Kenneth Jarecke.

Great photography about important stories in a well produced magazine. What's not to like? How about $300 for four issues? Again I ask; Who is it for? It can only be fore photoworld insiders and middle class elites. It makes £45 for a book look like excellent value.

Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe I'm misjudging the average disposable income. It still doesn't seem to me that it's a good way to get photojournalism out to the masses. Which surely is what photojournalism used to do. If the venture succeeds with it's business model then it might succeed in its aim to pay photographers properly, as they used to be paid before print media began to be squeezed by the internet. But is that enough? I don't think so. Pictures like that need to be seen by millions, not thousands. I can't see it expanding the audience, just as I don't see worth projects like Small Town Inertia making a difference when it's audience is, once again as far as I can see, predominantly that photoworld elite.

Naturally I can't put forward a better way of doing any of this, but it does all seem a little futile and incestuous to me.