Formal Camera Portraits of individuals of character, celebrating over 70 years of a full life, with stories to tell.
Making Memories
I'm a self taught photographer with 50 years behind that first 35mm black and white picture of my cat in a bush, taken for a tv cameraman interview with RTE. I had one week to learn how to develop and print courtesy of a friend who lent me his darkroom. I got the tv job, loved it, but three years later stills photography beckoned and I opened my own studio in Dublin, photographing architecture, weddings, portraits, landscapes; even family occasions! No pets though!
I now specialise in large format black and white formal portraiture of men and women in their later years. Confession: one portrait is of a cat on the lap of his devotee.
My Approach
I would define my portraits as the fusion of essence and character, which only becomes apparent in our later years. I capture this using interior daylight and black & white film in your own location; living room, study, club - where ever you feel comfortable. An hour's conversation usually precedes the actual photography, during which you relax and give me the sense of who you are. I'm also absorbing the background and direction of light in the room. I might adjust some elements; books on a shelf, artefacts that reflect your personal tastes and history. Only then do I take out my camera - either my MPP plate camera or vintage Rolleiflex, set up my tripod position and height, attach the camera and gently finalize the composition. Three or four frames are usually sufficient, and your image is captured.
Having your print made is the other half of this very creative process.
The quality of large format photography demands the very best form of hand made printing. In my opinion and experience, only the Platinum Palladium process really completes a portrait. It is ideal for permanent display in a reasonably large space, such as a drawing room, stairway, boardroom or hallway. To fully appreciate the rich tones and image detail I recommend a size of 30"x24" with a border of at least an inch.
Why commission a portrait?
To paraphrase the catch line of a world famous watch maker -
You don't really have a portrait made for yourself - it's a legacy for your future generations - children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, disciples, students, organizations, societies.
For sure, thanks especially to camera phones, there are dozens, even hundreds of pretty good snaps of you, many with families or colleagues.
Just like you can buy a perfectly accurate watch for a tenner, a local printing shop will make you a lovely print for less than a fiver, while you wait.
But a true portrait reveals depth of character and emotional power.
It takes time and care to make.
And after you've departed this life, it becomes a priceless legacy.
PORTRAIT GALLERY AND STORIES
John Young, Brewer, Chairman of Young's Breweries, Wandsworth, London
I met John Young when he made one of his unannounced visits to his Kingston pub in West London. The landlord kindly mentioned to me that the chief had arrived.
It was John Young himself, physically a jockey sized man, but an irrefutable tower of strength (he’d been a bomber pilot in the war). I managed to interest him in my project of making portraits of individuals of his age so he gave me the number of his secretary (that’s what they called PA’s in those days). But it took a whole year of phone calls back and forth to receive one from her saying that she knew he would be at home on an August day in 2004, and that he would be happy for me to come down to him there at 9am.
Dressed in loose shirt, shorts and sandals, he waved me down at the small gate of his home in Wisborough Green, West Sussex. He knew it was difficult to find in those pre sat nav days.
His home was very low ceilinged, and he barked more than once for me to mind my head as I went to the bathroom and back. At last I was in his presence, to make his portrait. But try as I might, though bright with August morning sunshine, his living room was not the background for a man of such powerful stature. Actually, I’d hoped to photograph him in his dray horses’ stables in Wandsworth, but after a year of waiting, Wisborough Green was to be the location after all.
Much as I know when I’ve got it all together, I also know when I haven’t. Despite a morning glass of champagne with him, I just did not see the portrait. And I told him so. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve some work to do, why not have a swim””
“I’m sorry John, but I haven’t brought my togs.”
“Oh don’t worry about that, I always swim in the nip.”
Earlier he’d mentioned his irritation with a new neighbour, who ran a passenger balloon business. One day he’d been sunbathing in his very secluded back garden, when he’d heard a young boy’s shrill voice - “oh Mummy, there’s a naked man down there!”
So I did. On a hot August blue sky morning I slipped naked into a cool outdoor pool. I swam a length, back a length, turned for another, and suddenly, I saw the perfect setting for his portrait. A wooden deck chair at the poolside, with a magnolia tree in the background. Probably first portrait I’d made in bright sunshine.
Two frames, and we were done, and I was on my way back to London. He died just a couple of years later, in 2006.
Patrick Pye
Patrick was a contemporary of my artist parents, Michael and Frances. He was a frequent visitor to their open house, first friday of the month soirees, arriving in Dundrum from Piperstown in the Dublin foothills on his Garelli motorcycle, whatever the weather. As I grew into my photography career, he began to commission me to photograph his latest paintings and etchings. I would travel up to Piperstown on my honda fifty, with plate camera and tripod on the back. We’d have lunch; brown bread, cheese and maybe salad. Conversation inevitably centred on philosophy; he had a fondness of Plotinus; and I had a growing interest in Sanskrit; the Bhagavad Geeta, the Upanishads and the Ashtavakra Geeta.
One day, I thought he might make a good photo; his bearded face with his studio paraphernalia in the background, lit evenly by the grey northern daylight through his floor to ceiling window. He was happy to oblige, and I turned my 4x5 plate camera on his good self, and thus arose my first plate camera portrait.
Several years later when I’d come across Paul Caffel’s London Studio 31 platinum palladium work, his portrait became my first 30"x24"print on Aquarelle Arches watercolour paper.
The Actuary
Geoffrey Heywood, founder of the Worshipful Company of Actuaries.
If I’d had a helicopter I could have landed it on his front lawn. His house was spacious, and his living room gently flooded with light from the adjoining conservatory. He had a large astronomical telescope on a tripod, pointing to the sky. His mathematical mind extended to the stars, his collection of clocks and barometers, and to his precisely ten percent (to the penny) tip for the waitress who’d served us fish and chips in his local pub.
We talked a little about his profession, including the fact that he’d started his actuarial work with a secretary and a cat, and retired, leaving a practice employing a hundred or so.
Most striking (pardon the pun) was his collection of grandfather and grandmother clocks. Their ticking established two separate living rooms; his wife could enjoy television in peace and he could enjoy his clocks.
From time to time he would go to London and buy yet another, until her indoors put her foot down. From then on, she insisted that he bring two clocks to the auction house, and bring one back. Which meant of course that his collection increased in value and delight without further encroachment on the family space.
However, I felt no need to fill the natural background to his portrait with his horological collection, rather just a hint to his easy, relaxed and kindly pose.
Bishop Joseph Duffy, Monaghan Cathedral.
I would certainly credit the honing of my compositional skills to the photographing of my father’s church work, and over time he would drive the two of us to the many churches whose sanctuaries he’d designed and executed around the country. His work in Monaghan Cathedral was to be his last commission before he became ill, and several years later I drove myself up to photograph all the pieces; altar, ambo, baptismal font, and the whole sanctuary space. Bishop Duffy wanted an exterior of the Cathedral, in colour, so I duly obliged. Tea in his study followed, and like Patrick Pye, I saw the possibility of his portrait, which was to be the second using my plate camera. And it was to be my first sale of such a portrait, which certainly encouraged me to specialise, if gradually, in the portrait direction.
John Skelton, letterer and sculptor
John and my father Michael were close friends; John apprenticed under his uncle Eric Gill and Michael some years later with Joseph Cribb, Gill’s successor. Skelton’s style was quite different from Michael’s; the alphabet you can see was typical of it. In the background, outside, is the roof which held the dovecotes, whose residents inspired the carving you see on the window shelf beside him, and from which he made a set in bronzes, one of which I’m pleased to have inherited from my parents.
Field Marshal Lord Bramall
My appointment was for twelve midday. For one hour. With military care I arrived early, then drove up to his house, parked and unpacked my camera case and tripod. I rang his bell at 12 o’clock sharp. He answered promptly, and invited me into his living room. We had talked on the phone to confirm arrangements, and I’d explained a little how I worked; how we’d have a chat together about his interests, his work, his love of cricket.
After a while I asked him if he might show me around his home a little, just so I might be sure to have the best part of the house to photograph him. He did appreciate that I wanted to make sure the light was good, especially as I didn’t use artificial light.
For a large house, the rooms were on the small side, and in fact the living room was the best option.
He was a formal man, not given to small talk, but gradually the composition was forming. What could I have in the background that could balance his powerful presence? In any case time was passing and it was now 12.40. He began to get a little agitated. No sign of camera coming out of my case. Then I spotted a little metal figurine of a soldier with his rifle. With his permission I moved it to a spot behind him on a shelf.
Only then did I assemble the camera and lens and place it on the tripod. He’d begun to explain that a nephew of his had been an assistant to Mario Testino, and had once come to photograph Bramall himself, during which I was told he’d taken hundreds of photos during half an hour, from all sorts of positions. I could see why he’d become agitated. But once I know exactly where to place the camera, it doesn’t take me long to compose a portrait, looking at the dim ground glass, upside down image, under the black cloth we need to use with a plate camera.
One detail bothered me. His tie.
“Would you consider taking your tie outside your belt?”
“Oh certainly not. That’s the way we wear our club tie.”
I’ve always liked the way the English say no. At least you know where you stand.
So as you can see for yourself, that’s the way the club tie is worn!
I was finished by ten to. Whereupon his good lady wife arrived to offer us a glass of sherry. Despite accepting, enjoying and finishing it, I was being let out of their home at 1pm. Sharp!
Dadi Janki
I had been invited to a talk given by the founder and leader of the Brahma Kumaris, a sect of white robed monks and nuns, devoted to helping the poor in the world. I was very struck by her presence and her command of the large audience, despite her diminutive figure. I determined to include her in my collection, and found an intermediary in one of her close assistants. It was eventually decided that I could meet her in their Oxford establishment, Nuneham House, a large Palladian designed country house set in beautiful parkland. It was a snowy day, but driveable nevertheless.
I knew I would not have too much time to spend with her, so I searched and found the large, many windowed drawing room suitable for the task. The snow covered ground outside gave a wonderful uplight in the room. I asked one of her acolytes to take the position on a chair, with foot stool, and composed and framed the portrait shot, ready for Dadi to come in and sit, which she did, the footstool perfectly designed for an easy but formal pose. I’d brought three sheet film holders, each holding two 4x5 sheets of black and white film. There were two viewpoints I liked, so between them both I used five sheets of film, and considered my job done. Dadi thanked me and left the room with her assistant. I packed my bag and folded up the tripod.
At which point her assistant came back into the room, and informed me that Dadi would like a shot on the stairs, below the domed skylight. I had one frame left. Again I used her assistant to pose exactly where I quickly decided would be the best position; I framed and focussed and set the shutter ready to photograph. Dadi then came in, and I made sure she stood exactly where her assistant had. She looked up towards the light; one click and that was the perfect portrait you see here.
Bellamy on the lap of his devotee, Jonathan Ross, Gallery Owner and founder of The Hologram Place.
When the door opened to our daughter Jessica’s and her husband Daniel Shadbolt’s exhibition in June 2022, I knew I’d met this man many years before at this same gallery in Earls Court, London. A man as careful with his moustache as David Suchet’s tv character of Poirot. With his wife Camilla he’s run an exceptional gallery for decades, with the main exhibition room just as I’d remembered it, the walls painted a deep, intimate red, a perfect setting for paintings, and I think for photographs too.
The exhibition was a great success, and it occurred to me that he’d make a fine black and white portrait, and he agreed to sit for me when I was next in London. It was a hot summer afternoon when I arrived to photograph him. We had tea with Bellamy stretched out comfortably on the kitchen table.
During our conversation I realised he was a fellow lens man, though his interest and work has been in the stereoscopic and holographic world. He has a fine collection of equipment which he was pleased to explain and show to me. And though their home is a many roomed house, I chose the middle landing for his sitting, making sure that one of his stereoscopes was part of the background, as well as the bookshelves, showing amongst other books, one in particular with a large Sanskrit Om letter on the cover.
Interestingly, just like my session with Dadi Janki, I had taken a shot I was happy with. Suddenly, he thought of his cat, and how he’d like a picture with him on his lap. One last frame on the roll, one eighth of a second exposure, and Bellamy jumped down.
The Lion King.
Mike Chappell, Owner and Landlord of The Star at Old Heathfield
Some portraits are a happenstance; no arrangements, no booking. But my Rolleiflex seems to have a mind of its own, and it certainly did in that same week I photographed Jonathan Ross. I’d been enjoying a fine lunch outside with a very good friend, under the shade of a generous tree, much needed on that hot countryside day. I’d gone inside to get a second pint and passed the happy regulars playing cards outside, including himself. I came back to the lunch table with my pint and over time, finished lunch. I took some colour photos with my digital Nikon of the pub garden, resplendent with colour and a particularly huge planting of tall white daisies. But my Rollei demanded obedience, so checking I had enough frames on the roll, I walked back up, vintage camera in hand, to the jolly group at cards. Looking at Mike, not quite sure if he was indeed the landlord, I began to ask, “Excuse me, but are you the…?”
“I am.”
“Would you mind if…?”
“Not at all. Why don’t you go upstairs to have a look?”
Perhaps he thought it would be a good place for photography, but despite a very large painting of him on the wall amongst other portraits, it was far too dark.
But when I came back outside, he was already sitting on the well worn step, ready for a photo.
My portraits always include head and hands, but this was the first with feet in too!
Many weeks later, armed with a delicious full size print, I arrived for lunch, having arranged to meet him.
“I’m feeling very nervous," he said, as he finished setting the coal fire in the bar. He was wearing his working duds, and said he’d come down to see me after he’d changed into indoor clothes.
“I’m feeling even more nervous,” he said when he saw the size of the portfolio case.
“Blimey!” was his immediate reaction as I slipped the print out of its sleeve. “Let me know when the exhibition is open.”
George Daniels, Watch Maker and Inventor of the coaxial escapement.
As a result of The Worshipful Company of Clock Makers recommending George Daniels as sitter for The Age of Achievement, I made an appointment to meet him at his home in The Isle of Man to take his portrait, using a plate camera and platinum palladium rendering. He was stern from the beginning, but had his housekeeper make us morning tea. He spoke about time, and how only humans had a sense of time. I naively replied that birds knew about migration. No reply. I asked about family but again, was rebutted - “I don’t talk about my family”.
I asked to see his studio, expecting perhaps I’d get a sense of an artist’s studio. A long portacabin style bare room with a very long table with chairs was what I met instead. A soulless place. “How many people work here?”
“No one, I do all the work myself.” He then showed me his collection of motorcycles and some cars. He was of course an aficionado of Goodwood.
Time was passing and it was about time (as Proust might say) and we returned to his living room, where his original masterpiece clock rested on his mantelpiece.
However it would have been unsatisfactory to have it even slightly out of focus, so I chose instead the portrait you see on my website, with a stationary clock in the background. Well, a portrait is a moment in time, is it not?
What an extraordinary man he was.
Dr Eric Edwards, OBE, Master of The Worshipful Company of Fishmongers, and former director of the SAGB and Trustee of the National Lobster Hatchery.
Of all the Masters of The Livery Companies, Eric Edwards was the only one to invite me to his Guild Hall in London to be photographed. He had been recommended by the Guild as a perfect subject for my Age of Achievement project some fifteen years ago. He was a most delightful man, interested in the aims of my project. My wife Rita was with me as gentle photographic assistant, and he regaled us with the importance of shell fishing in Ireland and the UK.
Here he stands (well it would have been a pity to hide the wonderful scallop shell chair!) with trousers creased just like seafaring trousers might have been.
Commissioning a portrait
I hope you’ve got a fair idea of my style and approach to making a portrait from the above. It is worth noting that these images are simply digital reproductions of the platinum palladium prints. Seen on a computer screen, tablet or phone, you are getting a fraction of the clarity and range of tone, just as you do with the reproduction of a painted portrait. A Vermeer or a Rembrandt reproduced even in a high quality coffee table book is nothing compared to the emotional experience of seeing the actual painting. This is the principal reason that I recommend a minimum print size for your portrait. It needs size to make the impact.
Using salts of Platinum and Palladium, the image is printed on a 30”x24” sheet of archival watercolour paper.
Platinum is far less susceptible than silver to strong ambient light including sunshine. It also has a depth of tone and sense of subject presence unrivalled by any other process. If you wish to see some examples of such printed portraits, I can meet you in London at your convenience.
It’s good to have a fair idea how and where you want the portrait to be displayed.
Is it a drawing room, return on a hallway staircase, a study or living room, a hall of fame in an organization's setting, library or entrance hall?
These portraits are made to last for several generations.
Prices
Portrait Session at your preferred location £1,250
Signed artist proof Platinum Palladium £3,000
