Beyond the Frame 1/
Welcome to Beyond the Frame, my free photography newsletter.
Whether you’re a workshop participant, a Bangkok Photo School student, a Kodachrome Preset user, photo tutorial reader, colleague, friend, or a combination of the above; welcome!
🎵 If you’d like an audio accompaniment to enhance your reading pleasure, here’s a playlist featuring some of the music I was listening to whilst I wrote this edition. 😁
I’ve been relatively quiet on the internet since moving to Switzerland last year. You’ll know that this beautiful Alpine nation is famous for mountains, chocolate and cheese... well, I’ve been working my way through them all. Often at the same time.
However, whilst stomping up mountains and chomping on chocolate, I’ve also been compiling photography newsletters in my head. Reflecting on previous assignments, future projects, contemplating photo essays, perfecting editing techniques, life, the universe and... It’s all provided content for the virtual newsletters written, until today, only in my chocolate-fuelled imagination.
Free newsletter every Tuesday
This, then, is the first real-life edition of my free newsletter, published every Tuesday.
I’ll be sharing things that have inspired, informed and entertained me. Mostly (but not exclusively) those things will relate to photography with a heavy emphasis on editorial, photojournalism, portraiture and travel.
You’ll find hints about future content at the foot of this edition.
Yohannes
The welcome image at the top of the newsletter is a portrait of my friend and fellow photographer, Yohannes.
I met Yohannes at AHOPE in Addis Ababa, whilst teaching photography to children who don’t usually find many opportunities to explore their creativity.
Yohannes is an instinctive photographer. His beautifully composed, perfectly timed images continue to inspire me. It’s appropriate that he should be the face of Beyond the Frame with my photo of him making a photo of me.
Why we make art?
Might as well jump in at the deep end!
Why do we make art and how do we decide what value to attach to artistic endeavours?
I was intrigued to see these questions posed by Tracey Thorn (of popular musical duo Everything But The Girl) in a brief but thought-provoking article for the New Statesman.
In the Gift Shop of Amsterdam’s Van Gogh museum, Tracey Thorn sees shelves stacked with Van Gogh souvenirs and asks, “Do we rejoice that his art won out in the end, or continue to mourn the sadness of his life?”
In his lifetime, Van Gogh struggled to get his work in front of people who might appreciate it. That dilemma has been turned upside-down in the Internet age. These days we can publish instantly to a worldwide audience — and then anxiously count the Retweets and Likes as a measure of how “good” our art is perceived to be.
We are “drowning in a sea of content”. So how do we stand out? Does the desire to be noticed alter our approach to our artistic endeavours? Do we begin to create “content” that is more likely to get clicks? And if it’s all so random and soulless, why do we even bother?
Tracey Thorn suggests:
“I suppose the answer is the same as it ever was: that some of us simply feel compelled. Which has always been the only good reason to make art.”
I’m interested to know what you think. Why do you make art? Do you feel pressure to make work with a view to attracting “Likes”?
I’ve started a thread on this newsletter’s chat page, where I invite you to introduce yourself and share your thoughts. I’d love to hear from you.
(And apologies if you received a premature chat invitation last week. I was tinkering in the Substack Boiler Room — and quickly regretted it.)
Portrait of Britain
For admirers of a well-executed portrait, the annual Portrait of Britain photography contest is a treat.
The contest shortlist always has an impressively wide range of subjects and styles. The stories behind each image are well worth devoting some time to explore.
Tessa
© Joe Thomas
I love the reassuring dignity of the portrait of Tessa, a student midwife, standing outside the Liverpool Women’s hospital. Photo by her partner, Joe Thomas.
“This photo was taken shortly after Tessa’s final 12-hour shift as a student outside Liverpool Women’s Hospital, where she [completed] her midwifery course. I wanted to capture the moment my partner finished her student journey and celebrate the incredible work she and all her co-workers do for the public… Tessa is an incredibly passionate and talented midwife and has had a huge impact already on people’s birthing experiences.” — Joe Thomas
Perhaps it’s the unfussy composition, Tessa’s unadorned expression or the hint of a leading line of trees that draws our view into the frame and towards the hospital building in the background that appeals to me. No need for complex lighting or fancy stylists when the subject’s compelling story is right there in her uniform and steady gaze. Mostly though, it’s the small but telling detail of the homely, 1930s-style, knotted head scarf that caught my attention.
Cover the head scarf to see how removing that seemingly unimportant detail entirely changes what the portrait conveys. I don’t know whether it’s an official part of a midwife’s uniform but if not, it ought to be. It reminds me of posters of the wartime Women’s Land Army depicting strong and capable women who are quietly, reliably and steadfastly saving the day.
If you browse through the contest winners you’ll see another portrait of a midwife; Jess, © George Zenko. Similar subject, equally uncomplicated, and yet George’s image conveys something quite different.
Vulnerability
(Jo Brand) © Viktoria Chikalo
I could easily pick out a dozen more shortlisted portraits to discuss but the other one that really caught my attention was this photograph of comedian Jo Brand by Viktoria Chikalo, entitled, “Vulnerability”.
If you don’t know Jo Brand, she’s a British comedian who’s appeared regularly in comedy venues and on TV screens for more than 40 years. With her trademark orange hair, she’s instantly recognisable to most Brits and definitely a contender for “National Treasure” status.
We’re used to seeing Jo Brand laughing and the obvious temptation for a photographer might have been to depict her as a jovial, flame-haired, merry-maker. Seeing her in this relatively sombre, thoughtful, black and white portrait really caught my eye and I wanted to learn about the story behind the image.
Beautiful people do not just happen
Jo Brand trained as a nurse and spent several years working in the psychiatric wards of some of London’s busiest hospitals. I’m sure her early work experience is reflected in her approach to comedy. Her humour is often self-deprecating and she never punches down. Although it’s not always immediately obvious in her comedy material, there’s an empathy in Jo Brand that I think is a characteristic of somebody who has known, or witnessed at close quarters, profound suffering.
The image caption, and especially the accompanying quote from psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, work so well with the portrait of Jo Brand that it’s an excellent example of how an image and a caption can together create something greater than the sum of the parts.
“Photographing Jo Brand, I felt that deep wisdom is hidden behind her smile and focus, and vulnerability is a sign of humanity, beauty and strength. I believe that real vulnerability creates true connection.” — Viktoria Chikalo
“The most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness and a deep, loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen” — Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, psychiatrist
If you appreciate serendipity, whilst writing this post I went to Jo Brand’s Wikipedia page and found a photo of her wearing a head-scarf. Coincidence? Well, obviously, yes. But I find it pleasing that an unplanned theme for this first newsletter has revealed itself without my knowing. Head scarves! Who knew?
She does as she pleases
Finally, completing this quartet of inspiring women, allow me to introduce Ms. Catharine Cudney.
In the Wisconsin census of 1880, Catharine’s occupation is listed, quite delightfully, as “Does as she pleases.”
You can read more about Catharine and her family on the Genetic Detective website.
Until next week, I hope you find opportunities to emulate young Catharine and find time to do exactly as you please.
Coming Up
In future editions I’ll be sharing a photo essay from a train through war-torn Ukraine, looking at the life and work of photojournalist Tish Murtha, reviewing a mind-boggling artificial intelligence plugin for Lightroom and I make this promise to you, dear reader: there will also be steaming hot buns.
On that note, I must get my own steaming hot buns to the airport pronto. Next week, I’ll be writing from New York, New York, so good they named it twice.
Go well.
Gavin
“To me, beauty appears when one feels deeply, and art is an act of total attention.” — Dorothea Lange
I make art because I can’t not make art. I am compelled to see relationships of juxtaposition, echoes of elements, and what my friend in London calls “juicy light” in serendipitous moments.