From my friend Richard Leigh

 

My friend Richard.

In 1997 I had a really great year teaching 10 students in the “documentary” stream at the VCA Film and TV School. Richard Leigh was one of those ten very fine students. I had no idea at the time that we would still be very close friends, 24 years later.

As a student I always found Richard ready and willing to engage deeply on any subject under discussion, he created fine work in that year, as did all of his fellow students, and then the following year some of those lovely young people continued to attend screenings I ran after hours. A bit later Richard and two others set up an internet magazine called “Documenter”. Lucky me: they asked me to interview Albert Maysles of the Maysles Brothers team, Albert and his brother David, who created the magnificent work “Grey Gardens” and “Salesman”, which I had introduced to that group when they were my students.

Over the years which followed I kept in touch with some of these fine people, but the connection with Richard became stronger, we developed a good toing and froing. Sometimes this was on a purely techno level, sometimes about films and filming, sometimes just a friendly visit such as when Richard came to stay overnight at my country retreat in Central Victoria. 

One morning after I had left the house with my constant companion Holly, when I was returning from the walk Richard took a snapshot. Now I must highlight the word ‘snapshot’ because the photograph which resulted really “bowled me over” as they say colloquially.

What is it which distinguishes a mere “snapshot” from a very fine work of photography? Since the introduction of the basic camera, millions of people have taken millions of “snaps” but very few of these are deeply memorable. Now you might say this one I have posted was only memorable and important for me because it was about me. But that is not the case. Anyone who knows me well would know that I hate being photographed or filmed. And Richard would have known that. That the image included me was only a small part of my acceptance because it also contained my wonderful companion of those days, Holly. And yes, Holly was always ready to frolic along the tracks at any time of day or night, and she really loved a lot of attention and you can see she was frolicking towards the verandah where Richard was taking the image, out of shot. I’m sure Holly was not aware of being photographed, she was just looking for another pat. She was an affection sop.

Then there is the opinion of other people. Whenever I have shown this photograph to others the respone has been pretty much the same. It is generally received as being a stunner. Many people from different walks of life have expressed how impressed they were by this image, as I hope you are too, dear reader.

So this is the basis of my question: what is it which distinguishes a “snapshot” from a remarkable photograph? I hesitate to use the word ‘iconic’ because of its religious connotations. I need another word which is eluding me. Although you might agree with me that when I call the image a snapshot, it was not just “snapped”; it was obviously planned and taken at a precise moment of judgement. Richard had set up for this shot and when Holly and I were in a certain proximity he went “snap” and there you have it. Not too close and not too far away, in perfect harmony with the big gum tree and the pathway in the slightly misty morning.

My friend Darko takes many snapshots and some just jump off the page. So too Vicky Mousoulis... over the years I have been astonished by some of the images Vicky comes up with, apparently without any effort at all. 

I’m also reminded of images created by the great “established” photographers of international fame, Lartigue, Brassai, Cartier-Bresson, Diane Arbus, Wee-Gee… so many others. I do not wish to make a list... you know who I mean, there are so many of them.

Let’s take a sample or two. Is this image of Giacometti by Cartier-Bresson a snapshot?

Or this one by Lartigue?

Or this by Diane Arbus?

I think not! I think each of the above images was “constructed”, deliberated upon, carefully planned, and yet they have the feeling of being “snapped” casually, in a fleeting moment… the time it takes for a shutter to open and close and go snap! 

In the case of the photograph of Giacometti among his sculptures, the blurry effect caused by a slow shutter speed in lowish light obviously gives the impression of great haste on the part of the photographer, but Cartier-Bresson generally managed to achieve his incredible images without much blur. However it does enhance the feeling of “spontaneity”.

Back to Richard’s images. In 2019, when I was starting the Armchair Traveller site on Facebook I posted the photograph of Holly and me. Holly always said that Richard’s photo was a perfect image of her and that she thought Richard had been very considerate in placing me at a respectable distance further down the track, not too close, not too sharp, etc. 

I asked Richard if he would like to send in another image. To my great surprise this is what he sent:

It was “un-named”. And why not? Why should it be named? What words could possibly do any justice to this image? I like to think of this image as thought provoking, but it is not only about any thoughts which it might provoke. It has a great graphic quality: a fine composition and a gentle brooding mood. And yet it is so much more than that. For me it raises thoughts and memories of the drought we were living through when it was taken, it raises thoughts about empty dams, pools and lakes across the Australian landscape, also thoughts about pools which have ladders for people to use when climbing out of the water, when there is enough water. It reminds me of the empty pools in Ballard’s sci-fi novel of the dried up Earth. But most of all it reminds me of “fit for purpose”.

What is the purpose of the pool and the ladder which is uselessly dangling into the void?

These things once had a purpose and now the ladder is waiting for better times to come, a lot of rain and a bit of tender-loving-care to restore it to its former pristine glory. Some time in the future people will be swimming in the pool again and the water level will be high enough for them to need the ladder.

Then there’s another level at which this image works for me. It is an image of the void. Of loss.

I don’t mean this to be taken on just a local level, the loss of farmers and their income, the loss of a community unable to use their local swimming hole or pool… what I mean here is that in some way this image represents lost expectations of normality, the fear that we have been abandoned by nature. It is something incredibly local which has more widespread connotations.

It harks forward and backward in time and it does both at the same time! I think that is one hell of an achievement.

But according to Richard when I asked him it was just something he snapped at that time!

I always take Richard at his word but the casualness of the word “snap” belies a much deeper intuitive process. The pool and the ladder were lying in wait for someone to come along, to perceive them and to record them in this particular composition. The right person, the only person who came along on that occasion was Richard. If Richard had not been in the right frame of mind and not been attentive to things on the day he might not have taken this picture at all. But he did. He was perfectly prepared to take this photograph, just as Diane Arbus had to go to great lengths to snap her Jewish giant and his parents in their apartment, including her preparation for that amazing shot taken from a ladder placed outside their window!

So, like many of you and so many people around the world, Richard is taking pictures as he proceeds along his path. That includes pics of his children, similar to pics by millions of parents around the world…

Once in a while such casual images snapped on a particular day during a particular family outing become “memorable”, at least to the parents, or in this case to Richard. But then sometimes they produce a surprising shift in sensibility such as with this image:

And despite Richard’s fear of it being a bit “soft”... this one too:

Can you believe it? 

What in the world is this drainpipe doing in the shape of a heart?

Well, I love it, and I hope you do too.

I close this blog with a request, dear Richard, please feel free to respond. 

But be careful, anything you might say might be used in evidence against you…

No, only kidding.

Any of our friends may also offer comments or send in some of their “special” work.

Just keep taking pictures Richard.

PT