Photography and Awareness

Last year, (2014), Michael Eldridge, Colin Tracy and I exhibited a series of photographs at the Marmaris Municipal Gallery and Art House. The combination of our work seemed to be well received, and gratifying words were written in the press.

Our Exhibition was titled ‘Awareness’.

Pine Tree, (Amos), Digital C-Print. Photograph Stephen Bray, 2010

Pine Tree, Digital C-Print. Stephen Bray, 2010

My photographs initially evolved from an earlier expression shared with Michael, (in 2010), at The Netsel Gallery. We named it ‘Trees and Sky‘. My contribution was a series of six monochrome images inspired by the illustrations I once saw in a book about Zen. In it there were wonderfully simple paintings of landscapes in which the tranquility of unbroken wholeness is expressed. Each painting revealed more than simply the contours of hills, but also was a signature, not simply of the artists’ personalities but rather of that completeness with which they were simultaneously separate parts and also absolute totality when they moved their brushes. In other words these were non-dual images.

Demonstrators in Taksim Square, 15 June 2013 - image Creative Commons 3 (Fleshstorm)

Demonstrators in Taksim Square, 15 June 2013 – image Creative Commons 3 

Little were Michael and I to realize that our work, supporting of the wholeness each of us shares – and which perceives itself within every rock, tree, lake and flower – was to presage those demonstrations in Istanbul and elsewhere where artists and other folk came together to protect some trees in Gezi Park.

People died in those protests. Doctors were arrested for treating the victims of tear gas, and skin irritants sprayed via water-cannon. Lawyers too found their way into gaols, whilst rebellious soldiers supplied protesters with gas masks. It was a violent time, and not at all what Michael and I had in mind when we made our exhibition.

I prepared for the next exhibition with him some uneasiness. Michael is pretty unpredictable, his energy enlivens every event in unexpected ways, so perhaps to balance his effect, but mostly because I thought they would get on well together, I invited Colin to contribute.

Between the exhibitions I wrote two books. Photography and Psychoanalysis is about the evolution of emotional persuasion using photography in marketing and other forms of social manipulation. It exercised my writing muscles in preparation for the second work titled Photography and Zen.

In the course of writing Photography and Zen it occurred to me that just as Soto Zen seeks to invite people to experience wholeness through sitting meditation, and sometimes the result is conveyed in the kinds of painting I refer to above, Rinzai Zen attempts the same thing by providing the intellect with an unsolvable riddle. In this way the rational mind is forced first into a crisis, and then to drop away and thus reveal the unbroken screen of awareness upon which we are dreamed and in turn dream up others, with all our triumphs, sufferings and dramas.

Marcel Duchamp -Original picture by Alfred Stieglitz, 1922

Marcel Duchamp – Fountaine, (public domain),  photograph by Alfred Stieglitz, 1922

I decided to put together a second set of images – one of everyday objects photographed as impeccably as I was able. I hoped that their effect would be akin to the kind Marcel Duchamp achieved when he submitted a urinal as a competition entry to the Society of Independent Artists in 1917. They rejected it but when you really can see it, without commenting to yourself about it in any way, a beautifully crafted object surrenders before you. Most simply look at and it say: ‘Oh it’s just for peeing in, what’s it doing here?’

Rooster (Giclée Print) Stephen Bray

Rooster (unpublished test image) Stephen Bray

In a dream the image of a chicken’s head came into my mind, so I set out to find the chicken and make her portrait. It didn’t take long. People tell me it’s a cock! Soon several other images were added: a decaying leaf, a fire hose, a battered aluminium can, and a sticking plaster poetically joining a crack in a pathway. The combined work now forms part of the Marmaris Municipal Art Collection, and a smaller replica is currently on display in the foyer of the Turkish Muscular Dystrophy Association, who will auction it later in the year.

Farkindilik, (Awareness), a series of five photographs comprising one work, Giclée print on canvass - Stephen Bray 2014.

Farkindilik, (Awareness), a series of five photographs comprising one work, Giclée print on canvass – Stephen Bray 2014.

Recently I visited the Marmaris Municipal Art House and found displayed in the gallery, among other paintings by Yüksel Diyaroglu, something surprising. I recognized upon the canvas the same all seeing chicken beneath an egg that had been tattooed with the words ‘Shitty World’!

Shitty World by Yüksel Diyaroğlu

Shitty World, (oil on canvas), Yüksel Diyaroğlu

As I looked around I realized that Yüksel’s entire collection was politically charged. He had retreated from the Istanbul streets due to the astringency of the tear gas, but found himself motivated to protest via his paintings.

I don’t share his view that this world is any more ‘shitty’ than it can otherwise be. History tells us that there was never a ‘golden age’, and that nowhere, except as an idea, has it been possible to create the ideal republic that Plato refers to. Roses blossom from shittiness, truth implies lies, health – illness, ugliness – beauty. I find it remarkable, however, that my chicken found its way onto a political canvas or, indeed, that any of my photographs are ascribed any political significance. I see them simply as invitations to see ourselves and our world differently.

Stephen Bray discusses Photography and Awareness on Marmaris T.V.

Sex and the Sheep

There is an old joke about young man who moves to a village in Wales and gets talking to an old man from the village.

He asks the old man what his name is. The old man gets very irate at this point and says: “See that line of houses over there? I built them all, but do they call me Jones the house builder? Do they hell! See those railway lines over there? I laid them all, but do they call me Jones the engineer? Do they hell! See those bridges over that river? I built them all, but do they call me Jones the bridge builder? Do they hell!

But, a long time ago, I fucked *one* sheep…”

It’s a good joke, and not really racist because the Welsh are one of the few peoples who name their people with the suffix of their occupation.

Unfortunately though there’s more than a little truth in the moral this joke. National Security and Civil Defence Corps recently were mobilised to disperse a crowd that had assembled outside the Fakon Idi Veterinary Clinic, Sokoto, Nigeria.

A deformed lamb was delivered there on January 22nd, it, superficially, resembled a human baby. The crowd were demanding that the farmer who owned the sheep which delivered the lamb come out and explain why the creature had human-like features.

I first heard of this kind of thing as a child. My father was employed as a welfare officer and one day he parked the car outside a farm workers cottage on the edge of a Dorset village, told me to wait, and was away for about twenty minutes.

Hilman Minx ashup via Wikipedia

Waiting !!!

I whiled away some time looking at the pictures in an old copy of the Reader’s Digest, which happened to be in the car. When this proved insufficiently stimulating I then drew faces on the inside of the car windows, which had misted up as I waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was as I have written was no more than twenty minutes, my father returned.

When I asked what he had been doing he explained that he had to collect a handicapped child from the house later in the week and drive her to a special residential school. He had called to inform the parents of the arrangement.

Naturally I asked: ‘what is a handicapped child?’ I had not heard of handicapped children before.

“It’s a child who is damaged in some way, either at birth, or even before”, he explained.

“Sometimes they are unable to move their arms, or legs as you are able; sometimes they just cannot think properly. Some are really ugly in appearance, but you must never show if their appearance shocks you when you meet them because nobody can help their appearance and many are open-hearted people when you spend time with them.”

This was a satisfying explanation for an eight year old, and indeed over fifty years later it has lost nothing in its direct simplicity. My father had both alerted me to the facts that some are physically and mentally challenged, and told me that all are to be respected whatever difficulties fate places upon us.

Of course there was more to our conversation than this, for it was on this day during our journey towards home that he told me of some of the kinds of disabilities that children may suffer.

Some, he explained, were due to malnutrition. Others because the mother carrying a child was stricken with illness. One child, he had met, he told me, had the head of a pig and the body of a human. He could neither walk, nor talk, spending his days in a cot in front of the kitchen range. He was fed a diet of bread soaked in warm milk, or cocoa.

How is this possible? I asked. I was quite alarmed.

“I don’t know”, my father replied. “Nobody does.”

“What has happened to him?”

“He died when he was just a few years old. It often happens that way. One day his mother came downstairs and he was dead in the cot.”


“It was natural. The child’s heart was deformed and he had difficulty in breathing.”

In later years, on the back wards of British psychiatric institutions, I was to encounter such people. Some placid, some tormented, many completely helpless smelling of stale food, faeces, urine, and hospital disinfectant. Many had to be rubbed with ointment to treat sores and other skin conditions. A few had a steel grip and would grab my tie, drawing me closer to explore my face, or even plant a kiss.

When I entered such a place for the first time my father’s words came back to me. They seemed far removed from the way in which the hospital superintendent physician would wheel people onto a stage in the lecture theatre and introduce them with such words as:

“This is a very unusual sight in England today. It is a Cretin.”

“You rarely see congenital hypothyroidism today because it’s diagnosed during pregnancy and treated.”

Now what about that sheep? I pity the poor farmer whose lamb gave birth to the deformed lamb because, no matter how well supported he is by the veterinary establishment who know that congenital deformities are not uncommon, he, and his family, are always likely to be the recipients of suspicion in their own community.

The question will remain in may people’s minds, “Could he have had intercourse with a sheep?”

In some cultures even today he might be stoned to death.

It’s the kind of thing that children will use taunt those of the farmer’s family. Some will lay accusations at the wife claiming that she must be frigid if the man found it necesary to find relief in his animals.

It’s terribly unjust and, of course, tells far more about crowd behaviour than the peccadilloes of shepherds.

It’s the kind of accusation that is rarely lived down. It can affect future generations even when buried back in time.

It’s an awful thing to have happened, but not an abomination.

For Grown Up Photographers Only

Photography has come a long way since Nicéphore Niépce made the first photogravure etching in 1822 and thus created an industry.

When I last visited his birthplace and museum in Chalon-sur-Saône nearly forty years ago it was possible to take a sheet of sensitised paper from a drawer, and develop it into a replica of that first ‘magical’ image.

Window at Le Gras, Joseph Nicéphore Niépce

The First Successful Photographic Image via Wikipedia

Fashions wax and wane in photography, but I fancy that first image  was never deliberately composed yet, stylistically, it resembles something from the Cubist method for representing a mechanistic fragmented world that would soon unfold.

I don’t propose to dwell on how photographic processes developed here, research into Louis Daguerre, William Fox-Talbot and George Eastman are readily available elsewhere.

Instead I want to look at how some images have the ‘creepy’ ability to foretell the future.

Bichonnade Leaping © Jacques-Henri Lartigue Foundation

Bichonnade Leaping © Jacques-Henri Lartigue Foundation

Who could doubt that the image, (above), by Jaques Henri-Lartique must have been taken by a mischievous eight year old?

But look closer, and it becomes apparent that there is something absurd about the bourgeois life depicted with its restrictive long skirts, peacock feathers, and whalebone corsets. In a very few years they disappeared from fashion forever.

Lartique caught this, (below), when he was just a few years older. Taken in 1912 it is emblematic of the twenties and thirties, because it celebrates the power of that forthcoming benzene driven age.

Papa at 80 kilometers an hour © Jacques-Henri Lartigue Foundation

Papa at 80 kilometers an hour © Jacques-Henri Lartigue Foundation

Henri Cartier-Bresson wrote in 1952:

“Photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as the precise organization of forms which gives that event its proper expression”.

His words were inspired by the philosophy of Zen Buddhism, which he discovered as he read ‘Zen in the Art of Archery’ by Eugen Herrigel. But there’s more to it than that.

Even before knowing anything of Zen Cartier-Bresson was working from another philosophy, and one that was augmented, rather than diminished, by Zen.

He was a surrealist.

The surrealists believe that just beyond our range of common perception life is pregnant with a far richer depth of meaning. Sometimes we catch glimpses of this. Psychoanalysts claim that dreams reveal such alternate worlds. Physicists, such as David Bohm, claim that there is an implicate order – a potential – beyond the explicable that is revealed to us.

Artists attempt to convey something of this by creating works that arrest the mind causing it to refocus and momentarily bring forth an alternate reality.

Sometimes a photograph has the power to do so.

Behind the Gare St. Lazare

Behind the Gare St. Lazare © Cartier-Bresson Foundation

In 1933 at the Gare Saint-Lazarre station, in Paris, Cartier Bresson saw that something remarkable was about to happen and pointed his Leica through the wire fence surrounding the station. Then he snapped this.

Some photographers consider this to be the greatest photograph of the twentieth century, not simply because it shows something of what we’ve all done at some time in our lives, but because of what else is in the frame. It is a portent of a global disaster.

The man of course, somewhat, resembles the Joker in a card deck – more specifically ‘The Fool’ from the mysterious Tarot Pack.

The Fool is considered to be the spirit in search of experience. He represents the mystical cleverness bereft of reason within us. In recent decks he is depicted as someone about to walk off the edge of a cliff.

Now lest you think that suggesting a man puddle-jumping is a far cry from the Joker about to jump a cliff into an abyss that is the future I must warn you that many consider ‘Behind Gare Saint-Lazarre’ to contain even more than this.

In the background a poster reads: ‘Railowski’, an almost generic name that could be invented to describe a Jewish rail transportee. On the foreground there is a broken hoop, perhaps symbolising the greatest calamity that may befall what was for centuries the world’s most useful mechanical object, the wheel.

The wheel also appears in the Tarot deck. It symbolises fortune, and appears exactly half way through the court cards at the point where Psyche, symbolised by ‘The Fool’ begins to experience the vagaries, and seasons of fortune.

It is written of ‘The Wheel': ‘A common aspect to most interpretations of this card within a reading is to introduce an element of change in the querent’s life, such change being in station, position or fortune: such as the rich becoming poor, or the poor becoming rich.’

The open hoop protrudes above the water, symbolising the unconscious potentia and points to the reflection to the man’s reflection on its surface.

Could this really be a portent of changes of fortune things to come? The image was taken the year in which Hitler came to power.

Fanciful? Maybe . . . but Cartier-Bresson had a remarkable facility with fortune. As a boy a gypsy predicted many events that were to become true in his life. She predicted his marriages; their outcomes; the birth of his daughter as well as other significant matters that were to befall him.

Generations of photographers have been influenced by Cartier-Bresson. I’ve written about him elsewhere and, when he read my words, he was gracious enough to send me a message, which I found not simply helpful but also portentous.

One such individual is the mysterious Mr. William Eggleston of Houston, Texas. Perhaps more than any other photographer he has the ability to see through the American Dream, whilst still preserving a reverence for beauty.

It’s not that he’s an aesthete, far from it. But I do believe him to also be a surrealist. His pictures illuminate something beyond what is obvious, and indeed in photographing everyday scenes and objects, as they appear before him, he claims to take pictures ‘democratically’ and to be ‘at war with the obvious’.

You can see something of Eggleston’s democratic eye in this image of his uncle and a manservant. A black man in a white jacket strikes an identical posture to that of a white man in a black jacket.

‘Adyn And Jasper’

‘Adyn And Jasper’ © William Eggleston Trust

This was taken at a time when the South was segregated, and so says something beyond the fact that these two men shared access to similar objects in their day to day lives. It’s not just that they’re in rapport – it simultaneously indicates a difference in station whilst pointing to a, soon to be, equality in rights unprecedented in modern American, and recent South African, history.

It was taken at a funeral. Could it be the funeral of male white dominance?

Perhaps the creepiest of Eggleston’s prophetic images is this one.

William Eggleston, Greenwood, Mississippi

Greenwood, Mississippi © William Eggleston Trust

In it we see a blood red ceiling savagely cut by the white electric cables. In the centre is an electrical fitting, once ornate it now lacks a shade.

The only other features of the room are the top of a door, and some pop art poster renditions of the Karma Sutra. There is something beautiful about the depth of colour in it, yet few would want to hang it on a wall in their front room.

It could be the kind of room where a murder has taken place – a crime scene?

Eggleston took it whilst laying on a bed with the room’s incumbents a couple who were his friends. He just saw something, pointed the camera at the ceiling and . . .

The house is no longer there. It was burned down with his friend in it. He had first been murdered with an axe.

A note on the copyright images included from the Cartier-Bresson Foundation; the Jacques-Henri Lartigue Foundation; and the Willian Eggleston Trust.

Fair Use Rational:

1. Used in an scholarly article about the artist. 2. Is a historically significant work that could not be conveyed in words. 3. Inclusion is for information, education and analysis only. 4. Its inclusion in the article adds significantly to the article because it shows the subject, or the work of the subject, of the article.5. The image is a low resolution copy of the original work and would be unlikely to impact sales of prints or be usable as a desktop backdrop. 6. An equivalent free image is not available and cannot be made.

Leveson Inquiry: After Desmond It’s Time For Hislop!

Ian Hislop image via Wikipedia

If you’re in any way interested in the British press, publishing, or the ethics of journalism this Tuesday promises a treat at the Leveson Inquiry. Ian Hislop, Editor of the Satirical Magazine ‘Private Eye’ is called to give evidence.

In pure entertainment value he will have to work hard to upstage one of last week’s core witnesses.

The owner of Britain’s most successful magazine publishers, Richard Desmond, was giving evidence. His company Northern and Shell PLC own not only a stable of magazines but also other media interests including The Express, The Sunday Express, The Daily Star and The Daily Star on Sunday.

I confess that I enjoyed Desmond’s testimony, and not simply for its novelty. In his gravelly North London accent he put across his interpretation of the publishing business. His manner was that of a streetwise uncle chatting about business down the pub. He was outspoken with the Inquiry.

It was clear that Desmond is expert in turning businesses from loss to profit. He is no asset stripper, believing he saved the Express from extinction at the hands of its rivals.

But at The Express anyone doing jobs that couldn’t be defined were out. This is how he put it:

“. . . one of the things I remember is walking around the floor and there was a room with a lot of scruffy geezers and I said to the editor, “Who are they?”  “Oh, I can’t tell you who they are”.  “What do you mean, you can’t tell me?”  “Oh, it’s the investigative department.”

So I said, “What is it?” “I can’t tell you.”  So Paul, [Ashford, Northern and Shell Group Editorial Director], who is in charge of that area, found out what they did.

They were special investigators, you know, sort of ‘Bugle’ stuff, ‘Dan Dare’ stuff. And then the final thing was I think the first week they asked for £5,000 or £10,000 of cash, or the editor at the time asked for that, to pay these geezers, shall we call them, to do their private investigative work.

My reaction was the last thing we’re going to do is to start paying out cash to people, we don’t know what they’re doing, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

So I said to Paul, “You know what?  I don’t like the whole thing”.  Paul didn’t like the whole thing.  “You know what, cut the whole area.  No one knows what it is and it seems a bit dodgy.””

Over the days that I’ve been watching this Inquiry I’ve developed an affection for Robert Jay Q.C. a counsel to the proceedings.

At first he seemed simply like a dog with a bone, but as time has passed he has become not just any dog, but rather like a Yorkshire Terrier, that breed of small, highly intelligent, aggressive, hunting dog bred originally to catch rats in factories and sometimes put down the lairs of ferrets, weasels and other much larger predators to drive them into the light.

I grew up with this breed and greatly admire them.

Last Thursday though the good Mr. Jay could hardly get a word in edgeways when Richard Desmond gave his evidence. Nevertheless a few spirited exchanges took place.

When Mr.Jay asked: “What interest, if any, do you have in ethical standards within your papers, or is that purely a matter for the editors?” Mr. Desmond’s reply was amazing.

“Well, ethical, I don’t quite know what the word means, but perhaps you’ll explain what the word means, ethical”, he said.

Many no doubt hearing reports of these words for the first time out of context, perhaps in reportage from rival media, perhaps on T.V. will hold the opinion that any being who says such things must be an unethical person.

I don’t agree.

Years ago, when I worked with Gavin Fairbairn, who is now a professor of philosophy at Leeds Metropolitan University we attended a conference in Manchester. In the discussion I was getting hot under the collar on the subject of people’s ‘rights’. His response was to ask me dismissively ‘What is a right?’

He went on to demonstrate, at least to my satisfaction, that although we attribute generic meanings to such terms as ‘right’, and I would suggest also ‘ethics’, they have no more validity than when we pronounce something to be ‘nice’ because we’re too lazy to identify the essence of the thing that we consider attractive, or useful.

Long ago sociologist Raymond Baumhart asked business people, “What does ethics mean to you?” Here are some typical replies:

“Ethics has to do with what my feelings tell me is right or wrong.”
“Ethics has to do with my religious beliefs.”
“Being ethical is doing what the law requires.”
“I don’t know what the word means.”
“Ethics consists of the standards of behaviour our society accepts.”

These replies might be typical of our own. The meaning of “ethics” is hard to pin down, and the views many people have about ethics are shaky. The last statement is particularly difficult because what ‘society’ expects depends according to a number of variables at the time, and even that presupposes that ‘society’ is a homogenous entity.

Richard Desmond is, in my view, wholly correct to proscribe discussions of ethics within his organization, if what he means is that defined issues such as privacy, consent, and doing no harm are talked about more specifically, by name, as they impact day-to-day processes.

Mr. Jay went on to afford Mr. Desmond the opportunity to make virtually this point:

“You make it clear everybody’s ethics are different: “We don’t talk about ethics or morals, because it’s a very fine line.

” . . .  The very use of that term or language would suggest that certain things are on the right side of the line and certain things are on the wrong side of the line.  Can we agree about that?”

Mr Desmond replied: “As I say in my statement, we don’t talk about ethics or morals because it’s a very fine line and everybody’s ethics are different.”             Mr. Jay in respnse asked: ” It may be you don’t talk about ethics or morals because you simply don’t care less about them, or it may be, as you say, that there’s a very fine line and it’s often difficult to say what falls on which side of the line. . . . One should go on, in fairness to you: “We do, of course, care about the title’s reputation and so would not run a story if we thought it would damage that or seriously affect someone’s life. . . . So that is an ethical consideration, isn’t it?”

To which Mr Desmond replied: “Of course it is!”

Not many newspapers reported that full exchange though, did they? Instead they took their usual stance of sticking pins into Mr. Desmond. One article went so far as to question his sanity!

Lord Leveson is unlikely to read these words but were he to do so they would not be meat to the process he presides over. It’s not that his Inquiry is so much a ‘dog’s breakfast’ in the sense the term is commonly understood, indeed the proceedings under his stewardship are conducted very professionally.

The fact remains, however, that this whole time consuming, expensive process where counsel gnaws laboriously over the bones of how the newspaper business conducts itself can’t really be in the country’s best interests, unless the agenda is it break the publishing industry?

Lord Leveson has repeated on many days, using different phrases, that this is emphatically not his agenda. One hopes that the government shares it?

Mr. Desmond admitted in his evidence mistakes were made by staff on his newspapers. It is a fact that The Express published more defamatory comments about an unfortunate family who lost a child in Portugal than any other British newspaper. He apologised to the family perhaps as many times in his evidence as he acknowledged the mistake.

A deadly cocktail of systems and understandings seems to have occurred at The Express. Its editor at the time Peter Hill chose to feature the story over a 17 week period. But the trouble was that the information coming out of Portugal was inaccurate and as a result 37 of the articles proved to be grossly defamatory.

In a report by Mr. Hill made to a Government Select Committee referred to by Mr. Jay in his examination of Mr. Hill, earlier on Thursday,  he stated:

‘”It certainly increased the circulation of the Daily Express by many thousands on those days, [when stories about the missing child], were being published without a doubt.

“It also massively increased the audiences on the BBC as their Head of News has acknowledged.  It did this for all newspapers.”

Mr. Desmond in his evidence inferred that the then president of the Press Complaints Commission made an example of Mr Hill, and thus scapegoated the Express, and the Northern and Shell Group, when to some extent many, if not all British not to mention the foreign newspapers, were to some degree culpable.

Sadly, despite the shadow cast over the press by Lord Leveson’s bonhomous presence, many editors have failed to fully appreciate that he is not a ‘pussy cat’.

On Tuesday 6th December, 2011 The Independent hinted that Richard Thomas CBE, a former Information Commissioner, had mislead parliament as a result of information revealed in the evidence to the Leveson Inquiry. This he strongly denied in his evidence later in the week.

On 15th December Lord Leveson felt he needed to comment that reports in the press about the proceedings should be accurate. On 11th January he complained that as a result of questions that he had put to witnesses speculation had been raised in the press about possible conclusions he had reached with respect to findings. He said:

“I would not want it to be thought that I have reached conclusions, for I have not!”

There are also numerous examples of Richard Desmond’s evidence being selectively quoted in a way to support a view that he is pariah within the industry. This may be an opinion, but it’s not true reporting.

What is clear is that Desmond is someone who understands the newspaper business sufficiently to make a profit where many, more experienced within the field, predicted huge losses. Unlike some I don’t care if, as reported by Mathew Norman in the Telegraph, his butler brings him a banana on a silver tray twice a day. So what?

I would care, however, if one of his newspapers wrongly accused me of killing a child, and spread the story out over a number of weeks. Having written thus, surely I won’t be the only person outside of the official record of the Inquiry to note that in his evidence Richard Desmond stated: “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to find [the missing child referred to earlier on this page]”.

As Nick Cohen wrote in The Spectator back in November: “The Leveson Inquiry has all the makings of an establishment disaster.”

The press themselves, however, may also correctly be regarded as part of the U.K. establishment and continue to make gaffs and enemies that they can ill afford.

Let’s hope Hislop will bring something to the table.

[Note: This post relies heavily on data from the official Leveson Inquiry website and is used here under the terms of its conditions of  copyright.]

Is It Worth Your Trouble?!

Let’s try not to make this boring. There are lots of formulae you can use to calculate how much your time is worth. Here’s one of them:

Einstein via Wikipedia

Where A = The money you want; B the expenses you will incur; C = the % profit you propose to make and D = your billable hours.

That wasn’t too bad was it?

But I rarely use such formulae. The reason is that I’m a bit of a hands on kid. Give me a new box of Meccano and I’ll make one thing according to the plans, then once I understand the pieces I’ll build something original.

Whilst from a creative standpoint this may be excellent it must be said that from a business perspective it’s poor management.

I was reflecting recently about why it is that often my businesses take far longer to build than the time it took to renovate this house?

Although I’m capable of hitting a nail in straight, and like all men love to use a hammer drill, those kinds of activity won’t turn me on for more than half an hour.

When I rebuilt the house I designed all the rooms, and furniture, supplying drawings and examples, but I engaged professionals to knock down walls and build furniture.

They did it in a fraction of the time I would have taken, and they had far more skill at destruction and reconstruction.

It follows from this example, and the formula above, that any tasks that you can pay someone else to do, at least as efficiently as you would do them, at less than your billable rate should be done by someone else.

So why, oh why then have I spent the past week attempting to teach myself digital typesetting?

Simple, I want to know the challenges so that when I outsource the task I can be more specific with my instructions.

I also want to ensure that the finished product has my stamp upon it, even if that imprint may eventually be improved considerably by someone else’s facility at the task.

This morning, were you here, you would have heard me cuss.

My brand spanking new Professional all singing all dancing, anti-virus, anti-phishing, anti-malware, wotsit pack went barmy when I tried to look at my own web site. Naturally I tinkered for about half an hour, upgraded the WordPress installation, hit return and the freakin’ thing wouldn’t even let me look at the site on my screen!

Do I blame my anti-virus program? No I think it’s doing a good job, and especially so since the product was given to me for a year free by my Bank.

Will I spend the rest of today personally removing all the malware that’s infected my web site?

Frankly, I was tempted, and you too may be tempted too, in similar circumstances, if you’ve nothing better to do with your time.

But I do have something better to do, so I hired a firm that specialises in monitoring web sites, and removing threats, to monitor and mind all of my web sites.

I’m going for a walk in the sun now, then it’s back to magazine layouts!

Publication Today, Is It Unlike: ‘Helmut Newton’s Illustrated’?

Helmut Newton's Grave - Friedhof Schoeneberg III in Berlin

Newton's Grave image via Wikipedia

In 1987 Helmut Newton, the porno-chic photographer, embarked upon what he considered to be his ultimate folly. I’m unsure that June, his wife, would agree, but that’s not what this article is about.

No, Newton’s self-confessed folly was in creating his own magazine. He called it Helmut Newton’s illustrated. The first edition was themed: ‘Sex and Power’.

No longer printed, it was a business disaster!

He should have known better. He really should. For years he had hung out on the edges of magazine publication. He was a photographer under contract for Vogue Magazine. He worked for Jocelyn Stevens‘ ‘Queen‘. After this he was an in-demand freelance. He even had a heart attack working on an assignment for American Vogue, but that was later.

Ian Fleming probably had it right when he stated in an 1964 interview made for CBS that his villains were modelled on sadists and megalomaniacs, respectively dentists and newspaper publishers.

You see, to start a high quality magazine is the ultimate worship of one’s own ego.

There are exceptions. Many smaller publications were set up years ago, when desk top publishing became available, simply to meet local need.

Picture Post Cover ~ Printed as 'Fair Use' via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

Where Hulton’s  ‘Picture Post‘ had been Britain’s eye on the world, much like ‘Time‘ was for years its equivalent in America, so ‘The Blackmore Vale Magazine, founded by Alan Chalcraft did much the same for parts of Somerset and North Dorset.

A jewel of a publication Chalcraft started it in his kitchen, and although long ago sold to Northcliffe Media, it’s still published today.

Three of the publications with which I’ve been associated have, like Newton’s illustrated, come and gone. The first died when it’s lost its founder and publisher, the noted Tai Chi Master Linda Chase Broda. She was a driving force who could take the vaguest ‘hippy’ and slap them into focus, so making them take action.

Then there was Ieka Van Stokkum, a Gauloises smoking member of the Chartered Institute of Journalists who taught me more about publishing than I can ever repay her for. Her publication withered as her health left her.

Joe Sinclair ambitiously produced a magazine aimed at human potential. His main failing was that he insisted in typesetting it himself. He should have stuck to writing.

Vanity Fair Cover 1916

Vanity Fair 1916 Image Via Wikipedia

Not all magazines are doomed, although everything has a life. Conde Naste‘s publication Vanity Fair was founded in 1913, (as Dress and Vanity Fair), but became a victim of the 1930s’ depression. In February 1983  it was revived under the editorship of Richard Locke, and currently it’s under the stewardship of the fourth editor since it was restored Graydon Carter.

Carter made a very curious statement recently in a film made to promote the Adobe Creative Suite. He said: ‘If I was starting a magazine today I wouldn’t even produce a printed edition.’

Go figure!


Relax: NASA Prediction Fiasco Fudges 2012 Doomsday!

“And they went up on the breadth of the earth,
and compassed the camp of the saints about,
and the beloved city:
and fire came down from God out of heaven, and devoured them.”

Revelation 20. verse 8.

Some say the ancient Mayan Calendar predicts that our world will end on December 21st, 2012 A.D. I don’t care about this and neither should you. Transposing the Maya Calendar with our Gregorian Calendar causes speculation and screwed up predictions.

Without wishing to offend Christians I’m also unconcerned that the Book of Revelation predicts that the earth will be destroyed by fire any day now.

The facts are that many pious Christians have attempted to predict when the world will end, or the second coming will occur, and have proven to be wrong.

Computer experts worried that the whole darn financial system would collapse in the year 2000 because computers wouldn’t be able count to beyond 1999 digital fingers. Computers used their toes!

The giant caldera under Yellowstone National Park has yet to explode plunging the earth into three years of solar night, in which we will freeze, or starve, or suffocate as clouds of microscopic glass-like shards invade our lungs.

No, even though the science of our day suggests that these were, or are, possibilities, after I touch my head in lieu of wood, I can now safely type all to date have failed to manifest.

But I confess to still being a teeny, weeny, bit perplexed.

Image of a solar storm NASA image via Wikipedia

2012, The Situation May Be Critical But Not Urgent?

According to astronomers, for the past four years sunspots have been moving out of remission. Sunspots occur on a regular eleven year cycle. It’s difficult to predict the intensity of the solar storms that accompany them. In 2012 they could be at their zenith.

On Friday September 2nd, 1859 just before dawn skies all over our planet erupted in brilliant red, green, and purple auroras so that newspapers could be read as easily as in daylight. Indeed, stunning auroras pulsated even at near tropical latitudes over Cuba, the Bahamas, Jamaica, El Salvador, and Hawaii. Telegraph systems went berserk. Spark discharges shocked telegraph operators and set the telegraph paper on fire. Even when telegraphers disconnected the batteries powering the lines, aurora-induced electric currents in the wires still allowed messages to be transmitted.

NASA is very clear. ‘Solar flares will not destroy our planet’, they state that in their most recent update. But, solar activity may: “temporarily alter the upper atmosphere creating disruptions with signal transmission from, say, a GPS satellite to Earth causing it to be off by many yards. Another phenomenon produced by the sun could be even more disruptive. Known as a coronal mass ejection (CME), these solar explosions propel bursts of particles and electromagnetic fluctuations into Earth’s atmosphere. Those fluctuations could induce electric fluctuations at ground level that could blow out transformers in power grids. The CME’s particles can also collide with crucial electronics onboard a satellite and disrupt its systems.”

The NASA report goes on to equate the impact of a solar storm as being similar to Hurricane Katrina, as if the Katrina was just small beer?

In June, 2010 Richard Fisher, the director of NASA’s Heliophysics division, said in an interview with The Daily Telegraph: “It will disrupt communication devices such as satellites and car navigation, air travel, the banking system, our computers, everything that is electronic. It will cause major problems for the world.

“Large areas will be without electricity power and to repair that damage will be hard as that takes time.

“Systems will just not work. The flares change the magnetic field on the earth in a way that is rapid and like a lightning bolt.”

The National Academy of Sciences warned two years ago that power grids, GPS navigation, air travel, financial services and emergency radio communications could all fail due to intense solar activity.

It claims a powerful solar storm could cause ‘twenty times more economic damage than Hurricane Katrina’. That storm devastated New Orleans in 2005 and left an estimated damage bill of more than $125bn (£85bn).

The figure is an estimate for the United States alone.

Mausumi Dikpati of the National Centre for Atmospheric Research (NCAR) said: “The next sunspot cycle will be 30% to 50% stronger than the previous one.” If correct, the years ahead could produce a burst of solar activity second only to the historic Solar Max of 1958, when a radio blackout cut the US off from the rest of the world. Voltages in electrical telegraph circuits exceeded 320 volts in Newfoundland. Intense red glow gave way to shimmering draperies of light. It was so intense over Europe that people wondered about fires or even the bomb!

What does this mean for us today? There are several possible scenarios.

Option one, the sun will this time be lazy with respect to cosmic flares, or perhaps shoot them in a different direction, as frequently happens.

This would be good, but even the most optimistic scientists don’t expect us to avoid the impact of solar storms for ever, so neither should you.

Option two, the sun will create the kinds of flare that occurred in 1958, or even 1859. Then the flares had little impact because electrical technology was more primitive, and not essential to the fabric of society. The result was that a few wire cables glowed with heat in a few places. No biggie then, but today much of the U.S. National grid could suffer shutting down water-pumps, mains electricity, sewage farms, petrol pumps, and telecommunications. Banking would, no doubt be affected, and since real money is a thing of the past in today’s digital economy, there will be lots of room for manipulation, the freezing of accounts, ATM timeouts, credit card failures, and the like that bankers can attribute to solar activity.

Prolonged solar flare activity must eventually impact the integrity of satellite communications.

Option three, a large flare will hit the hole detected by  NASA’s five THEMIS spacecraft in Earth’s magnetic field which is ten times larger than anything previously thought to exist. Solar wind can flow in through the opening to “load up” the magnetosphere more powerful geomagnetic storms.

Should fires break out, they will be difficult to fight because many water supplies rely on electric pumps. If areas of forest are destroyed carbon di oxide creation would occur on a huge scale, and take years to be reabsorbed.

Some are even predicting a huge Tsunami capable of covering the entire American continent. These people are clearly neither scientists, nor Bible scholars.

It’s easy to pass off concerns about solar flares as unfounded and carry on business as usual. There’s evidence that the U.S. government, however, is planning if not for a solar flare meltdown, some other catastrophe.

Lots of people claim there’s an underground city under Denver International Airport that’s aims to be an Ark in the event of cosmic, or other, emergencies. Additional military bunkers with seven foot thick blast proof doors are a reality. They are designed to remain functional for months, if not years, for core personnel. These are new, or refurbished, installations, not relics from the cold-war.

It’s true there are wealthy people who have invested in the redundant ICBM sites, turning them into underground condos. I’m not kidding. These babies are designed to maintain their integrity if flooded for over three days, and to withstand extremes of temperature.

Tragedies occur for most families at some stage in their life cycle. Loved ones die. Wars, or natural disaster destroy property. We know this and accept it.

What we find less believable is that our secure world of networking, iPads, credit cards, transportation and hypermarkets could crumble leaving us penniless, and reliant upon street- smart, or back-woods, skills.

Were the second, and most likely scenario, to take place severe disruption will occur.

As to the date? We cannot be sure. In a series of papers dating from the early part of the century NASA has been pushing the date of an impending solar based emergency backwards. A few years ago 2012 was thought the strongest possibility. Today the prediction is for May, 2014.

According to NASA today it will be a walk in the park. How different from what was being said 18 months ago!

Do I think 2012 is still a possibility? Sure I do!

In the film ‘Trading Places’ Dan Ackroyd plays Louis Winthorpe III a successful businessman who is deprived of his wealth by the two brothers who employ him. His credit cards no longer work, his bank account is frozen. In this film everything works out in the end, but not before Winthorpe spends time homeless living on the street.

In Dr. Zhivago Alexander Gromeko is a well to do man with an aristocratic background. In the film he was played by Sir Ralph Richardson. As the Russian revolution gets under way we see his fortune change from one in which he lived in elegance, warmth and security to having to share his house with workers who burn anything combustible for heat. Later when he travels into the Urals, it is in a crowded cattle truck, rather than a first class carriage.

Such scenes are, of course, works of fiction, but they also point to how life may be, for many, should our planet be hit in the wrong place today by a large solar flare.

Of course I could be wrong? 😉

There’ll be no *!!*&@!! Christmas this year!

Christmas will never be the same for a Cardiff based family who way back in the late 1960s were visited by a voluptuous social-work student.

A young mother who had been labelled as ‘inadequate’ and diagnosed as suffering with chronic depression was referred to The Family Institute in Cardiff for brief psychotherapy.

Treatment with drugs, electro-shock therapy, and analytical therapy had made no impact, and so in a desperate attempt to do something different Strategic Therapy was suggested.

Milton H. Erickson M.D.

Milton H. Erickson M.D. image via Wikimedia

Strategic Therapy originated in the USA. It is the name given to a type of intervention refined by the late Dr. Milton H. Erickson of Phoenix Arizona.

His biography could have been penned by a Hollywood script writer. The son of Norwegian immigrants who had traversed the Great Plains in a covered wagon Erickson spent the first years of his life living in a cave house with a dirt floor near some mine workings. The settlement, and the town of Aurum, Nevada, disappeared long ago.

In his late teens he suffered a severe bout of polio that left him paralysed for months. Slowly, using a series self-prescribed of mental exercises involving great will power, and as he began to move physical pain, he recovered the use of his limbs.

To celebrate this he took a canoe up the Mississippi river, where he lived eating scraps of vegetables, such as potato peelings cast overboard from the paddle wheel steamers that plied the river.

Unable to undertake the hard manual labour required of a farmer young Erickson majored in medicine and psychology at Colorado University General Hospital . Naturally he became a psychiatrist, and is well known as the father of indirect hypnosis.

It’s not hypnosis that concerns family therapists. Erickson’s ‘Strategic Therapy’ was for a decade a mainstay of family therapy practice.

Often criticised for being manipulative, and unethical, Strategic Therapy is defined by veteran family therapist Jay Haley as any type of therapy where the therapist initiates what happens during therapy and designs a particular approach for each problem.

The Cardiff based Family Institute was one of the first places to adopt Strategic Therapy in the United Kingdom.

When the young social work student was sent there as a training placement her supervisor, Brian Cade, sent her to the home of the family with the depressed matriarch.

Her affect pervaded everywhere. The children were grubby and unhappy, the home was untidy, the woman constantly complained about her life. It all seemed a hopeless mess.

‘And as for Christmas, you can forget *!!*&@!! Christmas’, she said,’ there’ll be no *!!*&@!! Christmas in this household!’

The young social worker was urged to dress provocatively. To make eye contact constantly with the father during her next visit during the week preceding Christmas Eve, and to express the following concerns and prescription to the family.

“You are clearly in a terrible state of health. Don’t even think of getting up before three in the afternoon. Why not stay in bed all day? Cooking and housework could be done by the rest of the family, who were more potent.  You’ve made brave efforts to be a good wife and mother, but it’s just beyond you. You really mustn’t even think of attempting to tax yourself over the festive season. Of course the rest of the family, unfortunately, will have to forego Christmas thist year. But it would be a travesty to attempt to be happy and celebrate given how ‘low’ and incapable you have become.

“Your family must let you rest throughout Christmas Day. They are not to bother to wake you, or disturb you in any way. You are simply to stay in bed and do your best to get through Christmas Day as best you can.”

The next day the woman was up by eight a.m. making breakfast. She tidied the house from top to bottom and put up some decorations. She took the children down to the shops to buy toys, and more decorations, bought foodstuffs and prepared the home for Christmas.

When the family was visited in the new year the woman declared that they no longer required ‘therapy’, and the family reported that they had enjoyed the best Christmas ever.

‘Zuckerberg': A Contemporary Fairytale?

When I wandered into our local video store last week in search of ‘Barbie: A Fashion Fairytale’, for you know who aged 8 years, I found myself instead  asking ‘Have you got Facebook?’

Mark Zuckerberg ~ Mash-up from Wikipedia images.

The shopkeeper, who knows our penchant for the queen of fairies and all things pink and shiny was not taken aback. After all it was him who told me on an earlier visit that ‘Quest for Zhu’ is a tribute to the writing of George Lucas, and the philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche.

He calmly went into the back room and emerged with a copy of ‘The Social Network’.

The movie starts in a dimly lit restaurant where Erica Albright, a beautiful but fictitious Boston University student played by Rooney Mara, labels Mark Zuckerberg an as*hole (sic), when she breaks up with him.

It ends when Marylin Delpy, a beautiful but fictitious young lawyer played by Rashida Jones, tells him: “You’re not an as*hole (sic) Mark, you just try so hard to act like one.”

In between there’s lots of action, deals being done over vintage champagne, nymphets setting light to bedcovers, computer doodling, and smart male talk.

Old money is represented by a Cameron Winklevoss and Tyler Winklevoss, both played by Arnie Hammer, although Josh Pence got to play Tyler Winklevoss from the neck down thanks to the marvels of digital technology. I mean, how daft is that?

The fascinating thing about the movie is that it’s about as close as any of us are likely to be to knowing Mark Zuckerberg, but it’s a complete work of fiction?

I would argue that all biographies, especially those that are authorised, are also works of fiction – but that’s not the point I’m wishing to make here.

No, what I’m pointing to is the power of stories to change perception. It’s the classic formula: ‘undesired state’ + resources = ‘desired outcome’ , where in this instance ‘resources’ = ‘storyline’.

Zuckerberg said of the film: “I think it’s just such a big disconnect from the way that the people who make movies think about what we do in Silicon Valley. They just can’t wrap their head around the idea that someone might build something because they like building things.”

His remark reminded me of a comment I made recently on ‘The Warrior Forum’ when someone asked why if a particular marketer was making so much money, why he was offering a product at the forum as a special offer. I suggested that true entrepreneurship is an addiction. Creativity is similar.

The Social Network hits the right buttons for most people. It also artfully positions Zuckerberg as much a victim as predator as Facebook expands. Whilst doubtless this is true, it’s not the way most, who have not seen the movie, think of him.

Whatever! It’s good publicity for Facebook, and anyone attempting to make ‘The Google+ Story’, ‘Android’, or even ‘Jobs’, will likely be tarnished with the label ‘unoriginal’.

By the way, in ‘Barbie: A Fashion Fairytale’, the bad come out as good in the end, all is forgiven, and everyone works together, just like it is in real life :)

Still At War With The Obvious?

Richard Marley, the legal owner, until 1987, of the of the Black Bear Commune, Siskiyou County, California that was founded in 1968, said before he died that ‘Life is like launching a boat into a smooth lake and sailing it to the centre, where it sinks.” He also said that had he known he was dying fifty years earlier he might have attended differently to many features of his life, but I digress.

A Yacht in Calm Blue Water - Image © Stephen Bray

"Life is like launching a boat into a smooth lake . . . "

I thought for a long while that his analogy about the boat is wrong. I considered such a voyage pretty much the best most of us may hope for. After all many, myself included, have at times been found to be abroad in choppy seas, and occasionally we’ve had to bale, or even cling to the capsized craft before the sun came up and calm returned and we could right it.

Richard Marley was wiser than me though, for his analogy is less about what appears to occur around us, and more about the mind’s calm response to it.

It’s a pretty amazing insight from someone who founded a commune with the aim that all people could live freely within its grounds because life in America back then was anything but peaceful.

He was dying when he said it.

At War With The Obvious‘ is the name of a collection of photographs by William Eggleston, also an American. It fell to Eggleston to change the nature of ‘Art Photography’ from being a medium dominated by black and white prints to a colour medium. He did so by having his transparencies printed using the expensive dye transfer process, which until then was only used for commercial projects. As a result his images radiated tones in ways that most had not associated with ‘reality’.

It’s likely, of course, that had Eggleston not taken this step then someone else would eventually have done so. Had it not been the dye transfer process that was used, most likely developments in conventional colour processes, or even ink-jet, would have turned the tide.

But Eggleston. a laconic gentleman from the Deep South whose acceptance speech at the Getty Lifetime Achievement Award in Photography was to utter: ‘ I am sure for me it was worth coming here ‘, is more revolutionary than simply a guy who woke up one morning and loaded his camera with colour film. He has a vision, some would call it an eye.

With it Eggleston is able to take an image of the mundane, strip it of any emotion especially sentimentality, tweak it in the camera so that you’re forced to wonder – ‘could it really be like this?’

There are only two other well known photographers who came close to Eggleston’s vision during the last century. Paul Strand had the insight to create abstract images in the manner of the Modernist Painters. His image of Wall Street, for example, predates Fritz Lang’s 1927 German expressionist film Metropolis, yet conveys much of the same feeling.

Wall Street Paul Strand 1915, Public Domain Image via Wikipedia


Strand was doing this back in 1915. The other photographer was Henri Cartier-Bresson, a man with a different style of ‘shooting’ but with a similar eye for form within human dramas.

Someone once said of Cartier-Bresson, on the occasion of an exhibition celebrating his 90th year, ‘If God had been given a camera and photographed the twentieth century the images would have been like those of Cartier-Bresson’. I think he was wrong. Although some of the pictures no doubt would have been similar many, I believe, would have shared much more in common with those of William Eggleson.

Pictures really ought to speak for themselves. Critics have written reams on Eggleston, who has said practically nothing about his work except that he enjoys doing it. His philosophy reminds me, somewhat, of that of the late Douglas Harding the man immortalised in a song by ‘The Incredible String Band’ as ‘The Man With No Head’. The track is named after a slim, popular, work by Harding of the same name. It’s still in print. Put it in your Christmas stocking. I guarantee you won’t regret it.

Within the covers you’ll find an image not dissimilar from one of the four self-portraits that Henri Cartier-Bresson made. In this case it was taken in Italy in 1933. You can see the photographers torso legs and feet, which blend into the street beyond. A male figure in the distance beares witness to the event. I won’t explain it. I’ll leave you to get the picture.

Eggleston’s images have the same feel as that picture, but without the torso, legs and feet. In monochrome they would appear stark and cold as indeed might be said of his early work before he adopted colour. In bright colour though, something amazing happens. A miracle is revealed. Not only is there colour, there is also love.