Robert Gumpert. A snapper whose work I have always admired. I remember vaguely, (I think, do I remember it or just think I do ?) seeing him in the Sunday Times newspaper picture desk offices in London, in about 91 or ‘92 when I was doing a stint there. I don’t think we spoke, I was young and green, I just watched things, I remember seeing him, seeing his name and phone number on the black board that was behind the picture editor. The board used to contain names, exotic international phone numbers, exotic locations, scrawled, inspiring me, calling to me. I remember, maybe from the same period, a set of images in the Sunday Times magazine, Robert Gumpert following two American homicide detectives on their beat, investigating a murder. Good old school classic reportage. Nothing flash, no intrusive style, images well shot supported by text, captions and supportive background information, in depth. Classic.
Over the years I’ve occasionally seen his name, and then this week an email pops in from Foto8. Can’t say I usually read them that closely but this week I saw Robert’s name and followed the link, to find a great set of images of prison tattoos. Another take on his ongoing look at the justice system in the US.
I hope one day to get the chance to meet him, say hello.
As I mentioned on a previous blog post here I’ve been working on and off this year on photographic assignment in Aomori, northern Japan, for Greenpeace covering the ongoing trial of Junichi Sato and Toru Suzuki – known collectively as the ‘Tokyo Two‘.
In that previous post I talked of how I was trying to cover the court case photographically and how to keep it fresh, and about shooting a behind the scenes set of images in between the more newsworthy moments. And here it is, finally up on the Greenpeace website, a small slideshow of photographs of ‘Behind The Scenes with the Tokyo Two’. Not my exact edit or sequencing, but here it is none the less. You can see a larger selection of photographs of Greenpeace’s Tokyo Two court case here.
And whilst you’re on their site please take a look around at the various other slideshows and multimedia pieces. There is a lot of good photographic work by my colleagues and also I have a few images dotted around the site in various places.
The ballet. Ah yes, the ballet dahling. Always so photogenic, always so inspiring.
A couple of nights ago photographing Miyako Yoshida-san’s last dance with the Royal Ballet, on assignment here in Tokyo, Japan, got me thinking about other ballet assignments I’ve had, or my moments with ballerinas (sadly, few…).
But a few years back I did photograph Russian ballerina Maya Plisetskaya. “Who?” you ask. Well, I used to think the same, and even the night I was photographing her, as she received the 2006 Praemium Imperiale Arts Award here in Tokyo, I was thinking the same. But one quick nanosecond google of her name, when you’re searching for keywords for archiving brings up an impressive, not to be taken lightly, (Maya Plisetskaya) resume…and I quote “one of the greatest ballerinas of the 20th century”, “dancer with the Bolshoi Ballet”…
Jeez, I should have shot more, or perhaps time for a re-edit of the initial take. But what I can say is in the very few moments I spent with her she did seem like a warm and friendly person. She get’s my vote.
One more I read the news and I’m jolted, a moment of sadness, a talent has passed, but also in my photographer mind I immediately think to the time I photographed that person. “I’ve photographed him/her” – a common line when watching the news in this house (second only to “I’ve been there”). And to the cynics that think about it as an upsurge in stock sales, then no, you are wrong. Truth be told there is little upsurge in such instances, someone such as Beryl Bainbridge has been photographed enough, there isn’t a rarity of image. But what does pass through my mind is “I photographed her”, it’s a moment. It’s important to document the times we live in, and we can do this in many ways. One part of that is to photograph the cultural icons of our times, and yes some of those icons have been photographed often, but it is important to have “ones” own photograph of them, however fleeting the encounter.
So I was at the ballet a couple of nights back, here in Tokyo, Japan, on assignment to photograph at the Royal Ballet’s ‘Romeo And Juliet’. Great stuff, great access (thanks R.N.), great help from the company and dancers. There’s nothing beats being in a changing room with 30 female dancers, or backstage as Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet thunders out, or snapping away as the stagehands wheel huge angel candelabras past you, or walking down the corridor and two monks from Venice from the last century pass by. How can you go wrong ?
Japanese whaling. How many times can I mention it in one week….? Well, hopefully today is the third and last time this week. There is more to life, and more to being a photographer in Japan than photographing whaling. For instance you could photograph Mujirushi Ryohin, or as it is known the world over- MUJI.
And how does it relate to whaling you ask ? Well, stone the crows, fire the harpoon, Muji flagship store in Tokyo sells cans of whale meat. There ya go, get yourself some nice stationery, a white t-shirt, and a can of whale meat.
So another side of whaling, another side of the debate. That of the whalers themselves. Or at least one of them, known now as Mr. Kujira (Mr. Whale). A whaler from the Nisshin Maru factory ship (some call it a research ship, some call it a factory ship…) has decided to speak out in Japan against practices he deems as wrong within the whaling industry- wasteful dumping of meat at sea due to over-catching of whales, and unauthorised removal of boxes of high quality whale meat by the crew of the ship. I get an assignment to photograph him, one of the first whaling industry whistleblowers. It interest me, another side of the whole debate.
So I go to a room in a non-descript office building, a cupboard sized conference room, rent-it-by-the-hour type place. I’m with Justin McCurry of The Guardian, intrepid journalist and one who knows his unesu from his uni (read his whaling industry whistleblower article here). Anyway, into the building, elevator door opens, beautiful women walks out and seems slightly shocked to meet the two of us, perhaps not looking our finest. Up to the 7th floor and in we go.
Mr. Kujira meets us there, and brings out of his bag his Kyodo Senpaku (whaling fleet company) uniform. He dons the jacket and skipcap for the meeting, him sitting on one side of the table, us on the other. He requests that his anonymity be preserved. The story unfolds, he tells us his employment history, his feelings about what he has seen and what he wants to happen, why he is speaking out, the dangers he faces by doing so. But there’s nothing to shoot. He’s sitting there facing me, there’s no way to hide his face whilst he talks. The room is sterile, the most sterile small cupboard I’ve ever been in. The whiteboard pressed hard against one wall is the most exciting thing there is, if you don’t count the clock that is.
Sensing I may need a prop for my photo, something to use to help cover his identity, I’d printed out three photos I’d taken in the Southern Ocean, showing the Nisshin Maru and the flensing deck. Mr. Kujira smiles at them, and smiles, looking me in the eye, when he hears that I was in the Southern Ocean twice for Greenpeace covering the whaling issue. He’s brought with him a cardboard folder full of photos, enprints. It lays on the table.
Many of my days in the Southern Ocean I looked at the Nisshin Maru ship, or the Japanese whale catcher ships, stared at them. I saw them from water level, I saw them through binoculars, I saw them many, many times from the helicopter as we hovered over the ships, causing downdraft and noise. And all those times, I always wondered what it’d be like to be a photographer actually on the whaling ships, the sights you’d see, the opportunities there’d be for images. And now, in front of me, Mr. Kujira and his folder of photos from the Nisshin Maru. I asked if I could take a look, he shoves the cheap folder over to me. I open it up.
His photos show life on the ship, from the whalers point of view. The blubber, the guts, the massive size of the minkes, the sharp blades, the colleagues with arms around each other standing as the snow falls, the yellow and green helmets each for different onboard departments, the waterproofs, there’s a lot of pink and red in the images. I notice the blue sky, it stands out. Many of his photos are taken on deck level, where the sides of the Nisshin Maru rise up each side of the deck, there’s little view of the sea I realise, only of blue Southern Ocean skies above. It’s a different view from the one I had on my ship, low rails, ample view of the swelling sea, the calm ice flows, the penguins. It’s facinating to see the images from this new angle, from Nisshin Maru deck level – the one viewpoint I’ve never had.
The interview draws to an end, and we do some photos of Mr. Kujira. He hides his face with his hand, tilts his skipcap down. I shoot some images, and have to show him on the camera back. He says “ok, ok”, then hums and ha’s about some frames. Too much ear, too much hair. I shoot some more, but there’s little to play with. I put a flash off to one side, cast a shadow on the plain wall, trying to create some atmosphere. He holds his cap in front of his face, he’s happy with it but doesn’t like a few. We agree on what is useable.
We all finish up, we’ve been in the tiny room over an hour. Mr. Kujira offers me an enprint of Greenpeace activists from his photo album, but I decline, thank you, please show it to others. I offer him my three prints of the Nisshin Maru, he smiles, seems he doesn’t want them or need them, but he takes them anyway, places them in his little anonymous bag.
I’ve just one question if I may, as we prepare to leave the room, “all those days in the Southern Ocean, when I was in the helicopter hovering above the Nisshin Maru flensing deck, the downdraft and noise being annoying no doubt for the crew. What can I ask was the feeling of your crew, of the whalers ? Did they hate us in the helicopter? What did you all think or say about us ?”. It’s something I’ve wondered over the years. I’ve seen angry gestures from some Nisshin Maru crew, friendly waves and smiles from others. Mr. Kujira listens and smiles “most of us enjoyed it he said. When Greenpeace were there there was less work to be done. Those times when we took off across the ocean and Greenpeace followed” – I nod, we both understand the times we’re talking off- “we were happy, we’d eat and sleep and rest. When there was lots of work, some of us would wonder “when will Greenpeace come ?”".
With that we shook hands. My clean living photographer hand, his hard, gnarled seaman’s hand. We mention how beautiful it was down there in Antarctica, he says it wasn’t cold and I agree. By now we’re beside the elevator, we descend, and outside in the sunshine we bid each other farewell. “Until the next Southern Ocean” I say. We laugh, and he goes on his way.
