Showing posts with label david bailey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label david bailey. Show all posts

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

BAILEY'S STARDUST at the NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY

Andy's Not Dead. Warhol by Bailey (1965)
The latest exhibition of David Bailey’s work brings together over 250 images from across the whole of his career so far, spanning more than 50 years.

Being Bailey portraits (and they are almost all portraits) one, for the most part, knows what to expect: lots of black and white shots against a plain white background. They are though stunning images and a great leveller; every person looks superb whether they’re Johnny Depp, a local hard-nut off the street, or a tattooed man with multiple piercings in his Prince Albert. Okay, Depp does look better; captured in 1995 he is almost impossibly handsome. I’d happily let Bailey take my portrait. I’m free most evenings and weekends Dave, although can’t do Saturday afternoons if QPR are at home.   

The rooms are arranged in themes. The Rolling Stones are pleased to meet you on entry, including a few colour images: Jagger from Goat’s Head Soup and a grinning Charlie Watts riding a donkey (a different shot to the cover of Get Yer Ya Yas Out!). There are also Black and White Icons (not sure I’d apply the word icon to Phil Collins, Action fan or not); Fashion Icons and Beauty; Hard Men; Box of Pin Ups; East End; and room devoted to his wife, Catherine.

Less familiar are the ones from his travels to Delhi, Papua New Guinea and Naga Hills. A selection taken with a mobile phone only seems to highlight its limitations and aren't especially interesting but Bailey's recent sculptures are. A bronze Dead Andy, with Warhol's sunken face made with baked beans and topped with a shock of white/blue hair rising out of a tin of beans, is pretty funny and more surprising.

It's a steep £14.50 admission but that didn't put off any of the hundreds of people there on a Monday afternoon. 

Bailey's Stardust is at the National Portrait Gallery, Leicester Square, WC2 until 1 June 2014.  

Monday, 16 July 2012

DAVID BAILEY'S EAST END at COMPRESSOR HOUSE, E16


David Bailey is yer archetypal East End Boy Made Good.  His mother was from Bow; his father Hackney; grandmother Bethnal Green; and he grew up in East Ham which, if you’re asking me, is pushing the definition of the East End but that’s a whole other discussion, and as many photographs in this exhibition were taken in Canning Town and Silvertown, the area in question is the broadest one the term allows. 

The photographs are in batches: early 1960s, late 1960s, the 1980s and 2005-2010. Together they make the East End look a miserable, rundown, poor and mostly inhospitable place. I’m a little tired of seeing endless images of dilapidated properties, smashed cars and dirty faced kids kicking through the rubble but Bailey’s earliest images here – sharp focus in black and white - undoubtedly show what Whitechapel, Shoreditch and Spitalfields were like and also demonstrate how studiously the young photographer was in learning his craft. The selection taken around the closed docks during the 1980s have a similar feel, best summed up by one photo of a pub on the corner of the charmingly named Shoulder of Mutton Alley, E14.    

The more interesting pictures are those taken during 1968 in the Rio Club and neighbouring pubs and clubs.  Shot in grainy colour they show drinkers in drab, dark and - judging by their coats - cold environments with jugs of flat beer placed on cheap Formica tables. It is only when the cocky photographer says “’Ere are girls, one by the jukebox” do they raise their glasses and crack a smile. By contrast, Ronnie and Reggie in their sharp suits playing with pet snakes found plenty to laugh about, little did they know their well-cut collars would shortly be felt for the last time. My favourite picture is of a young barman, with his greased hair and sailor tattoos, pre-empting the look amongst the area’s hipsters forty-five years later. This remember, as the media keep telling us, is now “London’s trendy East End”. This guy though, with seemingly half the stock from the nearby Tate & Lyle sugar factory behind him, was for real.

The area isn’t for everyone, much of it is still a shithole, but I’ve lived here since the 1990s and love it, despite the boroughs of Tower Hamlets, Hackney and Newham which make up the East End have some of the highest levels of poverty, deprivation and people seeking benefits in the country. In a cafĂ© on Bethnal Green Road last week the owner asked a customer if he liked living here. He said he did and it was ironic his parents spent years trying to get out, only for him to move back in. Being fortunate to have enough money to get by, to live here by choice, enjoy the good and avoid the darker side of the place undoubtedly make our perception and experience different to that of some of the locals. 

It’s a shame Bailey’s photographs don’t reflect the more positive changes over the period. There’s an unremarkable 2009 image of the milk suppliers on Hackney Road with the gas works in the background. There’s snow and sludge on the ground and it looks like an entry in a Worst Postcard competition.  Yet 200 yards down the road is the lovely Hackney City Farm, 250 yards is Columbia Road flower market and rows of independent shops and galleries, 400 yards away is a Shoreditch night-life unrecognisable from his 1961 pictures. Or perhaps a visit to Broadway Market where a loaf of artisan organic quinoa bread won't bring much change from a fiver (not that I'm convinced that's necessarily a good thing). I know he isn’t employed to drum up trade and visitors, nor is Bailey a journalist, but it would offer more balance than yet another photograph of tatty bric-a-brac stuffed in a shop window. 

David Bailey’s East End is at Compressor House, The Royal Docks, E16 2QD until 5 August 2012, admission £6.

Thursday, 14 July 2011

DUFFY: A VISUAL RECORD OF A PHOTOGRAPHIC GENIUS at the IDEA GENERATION GALLERY


In 1979, in a not uncommon fit of pique, and after an assistant had dare tell him he was out of toilet paper, Brian Duffy (known simply as Duffy) took his negatives and contact sheets in to his back garden and angrily set them on fire, incinerating twenty years of work. Along with contemporaries, competitors and drinking buddies David Bailey and Terence Donovan he had not only documented the Swinging Sixties but, through his innovative style and force of personality, helped shape it too. Bailey has since claimed the only thing the Black Trinity – as they were dubbed by Norman Parkinson – had in common was their working class backgrounds, but looking now at Duffy’s photographs it seems to me he was being more than a tad disingenuous.

That there are enough pictures to fill a new book and have an associated exhibition is down to the efforts of Duffy’s son Chris who has diligently assembled a collection from the archives of publications around the world. Fashion models, pop stars, actors and actresses, designers and gangsters all flaunt a confident, wealthy glamour, and if Duffy can squeeze in a Jaguar E-Type that’s all the better in my book. William Burroughs sitting in his Beat Hotel hovel is one of the few shots that contrast sharply, something that wouldn’t have been lost on either man.

The Idea Generation Gallery continues to show tremendous taste, with one hip exhibition after another; this is the latest in a long line. If you can get there, you should, but not everyone lives around the corner from their East End hideaway so you might need to get hold of the book, “Duffy”. Unfortunately it costs £45.

Duffy: A Visual Record of a Photographic Genius is at the Idea Generation Gallery, Chance Street, Bethnal Green, E2 until 28th August 2011, admission free. “Duffy” edited by Chris Duffy is published by ACC Editions.

Monday, 22 March 2010

PURE SIXTIES PURE BAILEY at BONHAMS


You know how it is. You’re sat there watching Deal Or No Deal and Noel is milking the Banker’s offer, so your attention wanders and you ‘ave a butchers around your living room. It’s a nice gaff, all your bits and pieces giving it that homely feel. But then again, maybe what you need to top it off, that finishing touch, that little cherry on top, that little talking point, that piece de resistance, is a portrait of a family of East End psychopaths and murderers. Reggie and Ronnie flanking the lesser spotted Charlie Kray. Set the room off summink lovely that would.

Well, this could be your lucky day sunshine. Get a wriggle on up west to Bonhams and pick one up from that David Bailey. Black and white, 19 and a half inch squared, they’ll bung in the frame, all in including VAT (do it proper like), £70,500. Try and get ‘em to knock off a monkey, call it £70,000.

I was up there today and he’s sold seven already. Do a few runs the length of Bethnal Green Road this week, into the pubs and small businesses, offer your protection services and you’ll have rustled up the readies quicker than you can say “fat poof”.

Of course for the more poncey types there are other snaps. A tab-collared saucepan Mick Jagger (eight sold so far). A massive 42 inch Michael Caine smoking a fag (careful how you interpret that) has only one buyer. Some skinny birds, some scouse gits, some pop artist, a bleedin’ dancer and an old boy with a stick.

Now, who’s got change for the jukebox?

Pure Sixties Pure Bailey is at Bonhams, 101 New Bond Street, London until 7 April 2010, admission free.