On Monday this week I had my second consultation with Julian Germain. As before, a whole afternoon was spent in Cowshill village hall in Weardale, shuffling rough prints around, with breaks for tea and chocolate digestives. And it was a really good session again, but beyond that I’m not yet ready to say more because I’ve been too busy doing something else since to properly think about it.
The rest of this week has had to be spent concentrating on just one image; scanning, retouching, tweaking contrast and colour balance, and then printing, packaging and posting it to meet today’s delivery deadline… And this is the photo all that fuss has been about.
I could only afford to submit one image to this year’s Taylor Wessing portrait prize, but getting an email back from the National Portrait Gallery with the opening line, “Dear Lucy, I would rather stick wasps up my arse”, made the £28 entry fee worth every penny, even before I realised that what they were actually writing to say was the photo with that title had made it through to the second round of their (infamously difficult) competition. It may not get any further than this stage, but I’m so chuffed already it won’t be a disappointment.
In parallel to the print, NPG asks you to fill in a massive form. One of the things on it is, “Please suggest why you consider this to be a successful and compelling portrait”, and that’s what I’ve spent most of this week thinking about…
Of all the photos I’ve made for DILLIGAF, this is the one that, by itself, seems to contain the essence of the whole project. If I could only keep one out of the thousands produced since the project began, this image would be it. I had strongly suspected it before but, on Monday, I came to the conclusion that I really need to build my book dummy around it somehow, as it’s the key. But that doesn’t really explain why I think it was worth entering for a prestigious prize.
A spare print I made for myself has, since Wednesday, been sitting on a table I walk passed umpteen times a day. Every time I see it I compulsively check the colour balance… then I look at it. I’ve studied it so closely now, and so often, it no longer makes me laugh out loud the way it did to begin with (and up until this week, in fact), but it always, without fail, makes me smile inside. It is funny (a powerful reaction!), but beyond initial amusement there’s a bit more to it? The more I see it, the more the man’s expression intrigues me. At one point yesterday afternoon, it looked to me like he might be about to sing; at another, something else entirely. His expression isn’t exactly neutral (or deadpan, if you prefer) so he seems present, but there’s still space for projection – there’s no certainty, no answers, but there are clues. Is this why it works? It certainly does for me, and if I can feel this way about it – and I met the guy, chatted with him (made the photo and moved on) – how might other viewers react?
Another thing NPG requests is the identity and contact details of your portrait subject. The event where the photo was made is covered by T&Cs which stipulate that anyone present “gives consent to the filming, sound recording and photography of themselves, as individuals or as part of the audience.” I wouldn’t consider this bulletproof, but it’s useful because it’s very difficult to collect model releases in these kinds of situations. People are, on the whole, more than willing to be photographed, but that’s not what they’re principally there for – they’re there to enjoy themselves. Add to this that my memory for names is rubbish… and I have to admit I don’t know who my portrait subject is, let alone how to contact him. The best I can do is try to track him down, which I’m doing with the help of MAP (Magic Action Promotions, the organisers of the rally where the photo was made), via its networks.
Yesterday MAP posted a copy of the picture on Facebook, asking if any of their followers know who he is. No luck yet, but almost as good is the comment one women posted underneath: “I don’t know,” she said, “but I love him.”
I know exactly what she means.
