When I picked up Robin’s book at the London opening of his show last week I was chuffed to see he’d elected to put my picture on a spread opposite a Bill Brandt. What a complement!

I don’t know if it’s fate taunting me after I mentioned Brandt in this blog last month, but now I come to think about it, it’s a little intimidating. Quite a lot to measure up to! Still, all in all I’m thrilled.

For anyone who hasn’t been following the story: Robin is the man I have been using for my printing recently. He’s probably the most respected printer in London and, to mark his 35 years in the darkroom, he selected some favorite pictures to go in an exhibition. I was very flattered to be asked to contribute, especially considering the exalted company I would be amongst. The book is effectively the catalogue of that show.

The book is available from the gallery.

Kapitulska, Bratislava, Slovakia. November 2003.

I’m looking forward to the opening, and seeing the book which the exhibition has spawned. Drop by if you’re in London, the show is on from 5th to 28th November at the Richard Young Gallery.

First of all, this is a beautiful gallery. In these days, when galleries try to make themselves resemble a white cube as much as possible, it’s refreshing to find a gallery that allows the beauty of the building to come through. It’s located on the second floor of a stunning Valencian art nouveau apartment building which has the trademark mosaic tile floors intact.

This must be troublesome on occasion when it comes to selecting work that won’t fight with the decor, but works brilliantly for most shows.

Teresa Legarre, gallery owner and curator, was also a breath of fresh air. She was appalled by my Spanish, of course, but very helpful, knowledgeable, and frank. I can only sympathise with her when it comes to navigating her way around modern photography, with it’s huge digital prints using size and colour to overcome deficiencies in structure and composition.

We left with a good feeling that the gallery understood what I was doing, which is rare enough, and that we should be able to work together at some point in the future.

Great to see Robin and Lucy in such good spirits, a great day was had by all. Robin was using the occasion of his 60th birthday to hold an exhibition in the Independent Photographer’s Gallery bringing together some of his favourite pictures from 35 years in the darkroom. It was an honour for me to have one of my pictures selected for the show.

Kapitulská, Bratislava, Slovakia. November 2003.

Among many new people we met at the party was documentary photographer Colin Summers who has a picture from Banda Aceh in the show, shot in the aftermath of the tsunami. I can’t help but admire the emotional strength of people who take this kind of picture, I’m not sure I could do it. Colin’s a great bloke and deserves to succeed in his chosen field.

The conversation among the photography professionals at the event centred around the inevitable subject: nobody’s selling pictures. It’s a tough time in the photography industry, but it was great to have other people to talk to about what’s happening.

The show itself is really great. I always enjoy shows that aren’t built around a single visual theme, which I find grow tiresome by the time I’ve seen a couple of dozen pictures. The theme here is simply Robin’s taste, and an eclectic taste it is. From hardcore photojournalism (Don McCullin, Tom Stoddart, Colin Summers, Lee Miller) through to high class celebrity portraiture (Terry O’Neill, Bob Carlos Clarke, Terence Donovan), and much in between, Robin has simply chosen pictures he likes. All – of course – beautifully printed.

Go to see the show if you possibly can.

It give me quite a lift to see the list of the exhibitors, selected by Robin. Names such as, Eve Arnold, Bill Brandt, Bob Carlos Clarke, Terence Donovan, Ernst Haas, Lee Miller, Don McCullin, Terry O’Neill, Norman Parkinson… and me! What an honour.

I’ve been trying to find a link to the show somewhere, but since it doesn’t start until May I guess it’s not up yet. I’ll keep you posted.

My last project, volume one of The Constant Eye, was more of a retrospective, I suppose. I had hoped that the strength of my point of view coupled with a particular technique would provide a theme in itself, but I fear the world isn’t ready to accept this! So, subject matter rules, and I should probably do a show on a single subject.

The obvious subject is Bulls. I’ve been taking pictures of the fiestas in eastern Spain that involve bulls running through the streets of the small villages for a couple of years now, see this post, and certainly have enough pics to chose from for a good show.

The best thing, though, was the friendliness of the gallery hosts who, in stark contrast to the last gallery, offered us wine and chatted with us in a mixture of three languages, telling us about the work and the gallery itself. Truly refreshing and well worth the time it took for us to visit the place.

It’s quite amazing the difference a bit of hospitality makes to ones appreciation of an exhibition. Actually, it’s not that amazing. It’s common sense. What’s amazing is that so many gallerists fail to appreciate this basic fact.

Needless to say, when it comes to my next exhibition, I’ve no doubt which approach I’ll prefer.

The two of us wondered in past someone leaning nonchalantly in the doorway holding a plastic cup half full of wine, and who didn’t even glance at me as I passed, into a very good little gallery space – quite small, but well finished and lit. There must have been about a dozen other folk there, clutching their plastic cups. We wandered about, had a look at the 5 or 6 pieces in the show (which were not bad, but included a couple of very large digital photographs that I can only describe as conceptual). This took us about 15 minutes.

Then we stood around, waiting for the gallerist – or the artist – to come and introduce themselves, tell us what it was about. Or at least offer us a plastic cup of cheap fizz. Nothing. Not even did anyone acknowledge us.

What’s up with these folk? What do they have a gallery for? To show and sell work? Or is it just some kind of toy, like a dolls house where they can re-arrange things and invite their friends to have a look?

We gave them another five minutes to notice us, and then left. Clearly nobody expects to sell any work from this gallery at any rate.