Category Archives: photography

i met her accidentally in st paul, minnesota

Today I am mostly enjoying the candid version of Marilyn Monroe, courtesy of Eve Arnold. I’m sure you will too.

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i found a place full of charms

August? How did that happen? Oh well, I’ll stop lamenting about how quickly time is passing (and how cold and rainy it is for August), but only because it’s my birthday in less than two weeks. I love a bit of birthday. I will be in London for it (where else?) and just can’t wait to see the best of friends and family and cocktails and some better weather.

On Wednesday I’m going to a gig. Not just any gig. An I’m-so-excited-I-feel-like-I’m-14-again sort of gig. It’s top secret though, until I’ve been to it and it’s wondrousness proves me right. Also have a bbq-thing to go to at the weekend (yeah, I know, in the North West rain) which is always a little bit lovely and boozy.

ALSO. The boy has convinced me that I should start sharing some of my outfits with you. So, I’m gonna. Not yet though. Not until I’ve worked out how I can artistically block out my face – oops, I’m casually blocking my eyes from the sun that isn’t there/oops I’m wearing massive sunglasses in the rain! But yeah, I will show you what I’m wearing sometime soon. Maybe my birthday will mark the new outfit phase of the blog. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it? But in the meantime, here’s another look that’s much better than anything I could ever create…

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do you cry out in your sleep?

Coffee time! And a ham sandwich for brunch due to my lack of butter and thereby the inability to make the toast of my dreams (well, it’s not strictly a sandwich, rather some ham in pitta – have I ever mentioned my phobia of the humble sandwich?). But that’s enough about pitta. I’ve got to work later, boo. Though I don’t mind really since the sun has decided to completely disappear and the Manchester rain is back with a smile on its face. Have lovely Saturdays! Hope the sun shows his face where you are.

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when routine bites hard

…and ambitions run low;
and resentment rides high,
but emotions won’t grow;
and we’re changing our way,
taking different roads…

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for tomorrow may rain so i’ll follow the sun

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tom is as bold as the knights of old

What’s that? Two posts in one day, you say? Yeah, well, this is too good to wait for.

It seems to me like this. It’s not a terrible thing – I mean, it may be terrible, but it’s not damaging, it’s not poisoning, to do without something one wants. It’s not bad to say: My work is not what I really want, I’m capable of something bigger. Or I’m a person who needs love, and I’m doing without it. What’s terrible is to pretend that the second-rate is first-rate. To pretend that you don’t need love when you do; or you like your work when you know quite well you’re capable of better.

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i am not afraid of the dark

And she made a wide sweeping movement with her hand, brushing away the great dark weight of London, and the thousand ugly towns, and the myriad small cramped lives of England…. Yet at the time she was perfectly happy. The weight of the city was off her, and the scent of the grasses and the sun were delicious.

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i don’t pretend to know what you want

I have never, in all my life, been so desperately and wildly and painfully happy as I was then. It was so strong I couldn’t believe it. I remember saying to myself, This is it, this is being happy, and at the same I was appalled because it had come out of so much ugliness and unhappiness. And all the time, down our cold faces, pressed together, the hot tears were running.

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when the morning comes and the battle is won

I have decided it’s about bloody time I shared some of my bookshelf with you. Mostly because I’ve stopped being lazy and have actually set up the scanner on the desk (as opposed to sitting idly on the shelf under a pile of unopened letters – I dont like to move it for fear of unearthing the gathering dust) but also just because it’s packed with some of my favourite images and photographers and fashions. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get this hard-copy onto my blog, but here it is – the first instalment for your viewing pleasure.

I shall start with ‘Unseen Vogue’, a little treat that found its way into my Christmas stocking this year (thanks to my boy!). It’s an insight into Vogue’s unpublished archives; the photographs that didn’t quite make it for one reason or another, but, as you will see, could quite easily have made it and could feasibly make up the catalogue of iconic images we refer to all the time in our blogs. They are, after all, Vogue shoots and Vogue photographers, Vogue stylists and Vogue models, and in that respect deserve our attention. Some of the images are nostalgic and poignant, catching models when they weren’t doing what they were supposed to – you know, yawning or with their arm in a funny position or just speaking or not looking as picture-perfect as the pages of Vogue dictate.

Alexandra Shulman says in the foreword: Unseen Vogue is a pictorial history of the magazine, bound together by many of these untold tales. The images it includes are not simply images from Vogue shoots, but pictures that testify to the labyrinth of labour that must be negotiated from conception to publication. In every contact sheet there are 100 decisions; in every crop there is concerned debate……. The question that returns again and again is, what would I have done had I been faced with those pictures on my desk? In this collection there are some images that I fervently hope I would have had the foresight to publish – even though at the time they would have seem unsettlingly avant-garde. There are, too, variations of a published image that I’m not sure I would have published at all.

Like Shulman, I have to say I do wish some of these images had made it (and you will see why) but I’m glad that this book has enabled me to see them, despite their original fate.

Barbara Goalen by John Deakin, 1951
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Coat by Dior from the Paris collections, attributed to Henry Clarke, 1950
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‘The contemporary look’ by Anthony Denney, 1955
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Jean Shrimpton by David Bailey, 1962
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‘Shophound’ by Michael Cooper, 1965
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Jean Shrimpton by David Bailey, 1965
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Ursula Andress by Brian Duffy, 1966
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Twiggy (an unpublished cover shot) by Just Jaeckin, 1967
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I’m getting a bit scan-happy here, aren’t I. I’m going to stop now. I’m sure that’s enough of a taster, although I’d love to share the whole book with you for each page carries its own merit. I really love it because it teaches you to constantly look behind an image; I can’t read Vogue these days without wishing I could see the hundreds of beautiful mistakes.

I promise to share something else from my bookshelf with you very soon. Ta-ta for now.

blinded alike from sunshine and from rain

Shaded was her dream
By the dusk curtains – ’twas a midnight charm
Impossible to melt as iced stream:
The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies.
It seemed he never, never could redeem
From such a steadfast spell his lady’s eyes;
So mused awhile, entoiled in woofed fantasies.

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