.

I started in Brazil, where Otto Stupakoff showed me the possibilities of photography and pointed me toward
Art Center College of Design in Los Angeles. I studied there for three years, then moved to London
where I found a wonderful teacher in the totally eccentric Adrian Flowers.
He held a contagious fascination for light – its power and possibilities.

1974 brought me to Australia.

1979 found me renting a small studio in South Melbourne, and around the end of 81 or early 82 a young potter brought in some work to be photographed. He was doing things with clay I had never seen,
and I realize now, breaking very new ground.
I naturally became curious and started my quiz thing.
He didn’t say much about the work itself but he did speak quietly of the sea, sand, shells – the sound in water. His name was David Potter.

David introduced me to Neville Assad and a diverse mob around the Meat Market.
We talked often and I became intrigued by the things some did not say
and the musing that came from their silence.

I felt it important that photographs of this work should try and convey the individuality in that stillness.

I found I had started to peer at people and the things they made in a way that sometimes made them squirm.
It was not deliberate – merely the nature of the animal – a step in the process.
The closer I get the more intrigued I become - the more I peer.

Even though I never cease to be fascinated by these things people mold from their imagination, it has really
been their extraordinary individuality that has kept me going through the years.
It was this very individuality which finally led me to put together the group of photographs
‘Friends & Other Dancers’. This is an ongoing if slow project – a growing number of black & white photographs of people who have been kind enough to let me peer for a moment behind that private façade we all present.

I continue to be seduced by black & white photography in spite of the wonderful tedium of its process.

The way I like to work is to talk – briefly or at length depending on your mood. I then like to be left for three or four days to mull things over and come up with a solution. Sometimes some may find this aspect difficult. If you have spent months nurturing a new creation, understandably you may feel uncertain about handing it over to a complete stranger. The first time is always the hardest.

One or two other things which help.

Usage is important.

The requirements of a grant application are different to a printed catalogue or newspaper article.
Is it vertical horizontal or square?
Will the photograph be reproduced in colour or black & white?
Sent by email or used on a web page.

Increasingly I am supplying photographs and folios on CD Rom.

Finally the two questions which strangely or not many people have the most difficulty with.

When are the photographs required and how many copies would you like?

Where possible I like to supply original slides rather than duplicates. So if you would like six photographs, and six copies of each of those photographs, I give you six originals of each.
The only exception to this would be fashion or jewellery worn by a model who is moving.
There may be one photograph that works better than others.
It makes sense to duplicate that photograph.


How much does it cost?

This depends very much on the length of the string. I charge for time behind the camera plus materials. Generally one studio setup starts around the $300.00 mark and depends on complexity. A highly polished silver egg takes longer to photograph than six small matte ceramic works. Feel free to call anytime for a quote – there is no obligation. I also have prepaid vouchers which help to budget for say a future exhibition.


I enjoy all areas of craft – be it ceramic, glass, metal, textile, wood, paintings or sculpture. I treat each new work as an individual. I do not believe in any particular type of lighting apart from one which is empathetic with what we are trying to say – something soothing, perhaps clashing, but not at odds. This also applies to backgrounds, style, environment, cropping. As with many things, a good photograph is often better for what is left out. I am intrigued – some say obsessed – with the space between.

There are times when people say that a photograph shows them an aspect of their work they had not seen before. It is likely that we all become so close to what we do that the detail becomes obscured. It may just take a fresh eye to help down the path that was always there.

Someone once said that I photograph to capture the object.
I would prefer to believe that I photograph to free the subject.

Part of the fascination of photography is that it is such an unpredictable lie.

We can only interpret based on personal experience and that experience is so subjective, so momentary, that strong photographs often trigger strong emotions that transcend the mere document.

This is why I see a photograph as merely a trigger to our own memory of substitution.

But when a photograph works well, it works because through it we perceive more than we see.

Background