A cocktail of jet-lag, sleep deprivation and Covid have knocked me somewhat off-kilter this week.
As cocktails go, I’ve had better.
Consequently, I’m a day behind. I was feeling a tad sorry for myself until I remembered the BBC were streaming performances from the Glastonbury music festival. So I erected a tent in my office and self-isolated. The food choices weren’t as diverse but the queue for the toilets was a lot shorter. So, you know, swings and roundabouts.
I watched the splendid comedian Robin Ince at Glastonbury, reading his thought-provoking poem about Sinéad O’Connor.
I’ve been a Sinéad O’Connor fan all my adult life. I could happily write at great length about the affection and admiration I have for Sinéad O’Connor, but this is (supposed to be) a short newsletter and you’ve probably got sh*t to do.
Suffice to say that if you were to compile a list of people who personify steadfast courage and principled determination, you’d want Sinéad near the top.
And that is why there are two much-loved portraits of Sinéad on my office walls.
The first is a beautiful, limited edition, black and white photograph made by Jane Bown (NB: “Bown”, not “Brown”).
Her name might not ring a bell but I can almost guarantee that you’ve seen Jane Bown’s portraits. In a 60-year career, she photographed hundreds of the world’s most famous faces.
Bown’s 1992 portrait of Sinéad shows her head down with tight-cropped hair and a cigarette behind her ear. It captures some of the singer’s essential characteristics. Rebellious yet demure. Unconventional yet thoughtful. Independent yet potentially fragile. And undeniably beautiful.
The second Sinéad O’Connor portrait, which hangs above my desk, is by Deborah Feingold. It’s one of only 21 prints in the world and I’m proud to say that I own number 1/21.
Sinéad is sitting in a hotel chair, big boots up on a table, gazing upward.
What I admire most about this image is the juxtaposition between the anonymous hotel setting and Sinéad’s pose.
We’re probably all familiar with those hotels which boast faux-opulent conference rooms. Heavy, floral curtains and furniture designed to try and make you forget that you’re in a bland hotel chain on the edge of an out-of-town Business Park. It’s the revealing detail of the floor-level, metal-grilled heating unit that tells us we’re really somewhere functional and soulless.
And there’s Sinéad in a golden dress with her big ol’ boots up on the table and we know that she’s not there to attend any tedious business meetings with the Regional Manager of an insurance firm.
It gives me hope. In the midst of the interminable, seemingly inescapable, beige blandness which threatens to overwhelm us, Sinéad says, “It’s OK to just be you.”
Technical note: I paid an absolute fortune to obtain the clearest anti-reflective glass for this mount so that the photo is always perfectly visible from all angles, in all lights, and it was worth every penny.
Sinéad O’Connor found fame/infamy, depending on your perspective, for performances which continue to hold our attention decades after they first appeared. The iconic Nothing Compares 2 U music video, the Saturday Night Live a capella protest about the Catholic Church’s cover-up of child abuse, and the subsequent angry reaction, which she faced head-on with characteristic courage.
I’ll conclude my short tribute to Sinéad O’Connor with two more clips, which I believe give a deeper insight into her profoundly empathetic but ultimately fragile nature.
Irish singer Imelda May’s interview, where she relates a story about a memorable meeting with Sinéad O’Connor and the performance itself, where the two singers connect in a palpably emotional duet.
I’m not ashamed to admit that seeing the tears in Sinéad’s eyes as she sings rarely fails to elicit the same response in me. Although today I’m blaming jet-lag and Covid.
If there are photographs on your wall which inspire you, I would love to hear about them.
“Do right, fear no one”
In last Friday’s newsletter, I wrote about and shared photos from my self-assigned project in New York, photographing locations found in song lyrics.
Beyond the Frame 4/
All projects are personal, aren’t they? Well, they probably ought to be. The phrase “personal project” is typically used to describe a series of images made by a photographer when they’re not working on a paid commission. Rob Haggart, formerly a Director of Photography for Men’s Journal magazine runs the
I have Herb Ritt's photo of Sinéad, which I've had for years. Love the photos and stories you've shared of her. I might be buying the Bown photo myself now lol. I hope you're feeling better.
I have some favorite photos on my wall, but none more cherished than a simple B/W image of a starfish on a black sand beach.