Pause for thought: Martin Parr
Greg Hobson, Curator at the National Media Museum, talks to Martin and Susie Parr
A moment of light relief for Martin and Susie Parr
Martin Parr still proves controversial by Shona Wall Photographs: Stewart Wall www.ContemporaryTimes.net
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AKING shorthand notes can be a curious affair. Sometimes a person will say something instantly memorable. Other times, you read the notes and think, “I can’t remember them saying that.”
Taking an accurate note of what Martin Parr says is difficult. Probably one of the best-known photographers in the world, he talks quickly and uses long sentences.
During an In Conversation event at the National Media Museum in Bradford, Martin was speaking with his wife, author Susie Parr, and curator Greg Hobson. I could record what Susie and Greg said. But Martin Parr was challenging. It felt important to get it right. We were among the privileged few to get tickets. The event sold out quickly, and the Cubby Broccoli Cinema was filled to capacity. There was a certain frisson among the audience. The museum staff asked us not to be shy about sitting next to strangers,
Shona Wall takes notes of Martin and Susie Parr In Conversation as there would be no spare seats. To everyone here, Martin Parr was a big name. Some were full of hero worship. The In Conversation event coincided with Martin Parr’s work for the exhibition, Only In England, currently at the media museum. The exhibition has three sections. One is of previously known work by iconic photographer Tony Ray-Jones, whom Martin credits as an inspiration. Another is a selection made by Martin from the Ray-Jones archive. The final section
featured a project taken by Martin in the 1970s at Hebden Bridge in Yorkshire, known as The Non-Conformists and now published in book form by Aperture. The Only In England exhibition will remain at the National Media Museum until June 29, 2014. More of Martin’s work is also featured in a dedication to British manufacturers, Open For Business, at the museum until May 5. The conversation began with an introduction by curator Greg
on why he had asked Martin to “bring Tony Ray-Jones’s work to life” by having him look through 5000 contact sheets, a task that took him only five days. There was praise for RayJones’s ability to compose and his “visceral” feel for his subject. The conversation moved to the Non-Conformists and how Martin and Susie were drawn to document traditions then in decline. Their record included a chapel at Crimsworth Dean, which had about 10 regulars. They won the trust of this tiny
congregation by attending regularly, and even became involved in helping out with the Sunday School. This led to an expectation that they would help run the chapel. It then became clear there had been a misunderstanding. It was also the point that my shorthand note-taking switched to autopilot. I come from a rural community, and my mother attends a church about that size. I know what their reaction would have been if Martin and Susie Parr had come regularly to their worship. I could imagine my mother’s reaction especially. I kept wondering exactly what was said between them, and how this tiny congregation coped afterwards. My mother would not have understood. She would have felt her faith had been used and violated.
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ext, I kept wondering if this particular misunderstanding was already in the public domain or whether it had only emerged now, so soon after the release of their book. Greg, Martin and Susie spoke as though it was already common knowledge, but I hadn’t heard of it before. Some things I absorbed. I was impressed they moved house
several times because of Susie’s training and career as a speech therapist. I thought that an interesting aspect of their relationship. He received a student’s admission that her tutor was “always banging on about him” with easy charm. In fact, it seemed his most relaxed moment during the whole event. But the one subject Susie and Martin Parr kept referring to was controversy. It wasn’t true that Martin pointed fingers at people and laughed. There was more to it than that. Vietnam war photographer Philip Jones Griffiths had once written an open letter headed: “Why Martin Parr should not become a Magnum photographer.” Philip Jones Griffiths has since died, and Martin announced to the event that he is to be the new president of Magnum. Of the public reaction to The Last Resort, featuring photographs taken at New Brighton, on the Wirral, he said: “The London reaction was very good for me. I didn’t court controversy. It just happened.” Martin described his most recent project, working with arts group Multistory, recording community life in the Black Country. He said he loved engaging with people. As it happened, Stew, Jess and
I came face to face with Martin much later, walking alone in a corridor and heading for the lift. We asked if he still kept in touch with Daniel Meadows, one of his contemporaries at Manchester Polytechnic. We interviewed Daniel last year and he is one of the most inspirational people we have ever met.
“If the Parrs had treated my mother like that she would have felt her faith had been used and violated” “Sometimes,” replied Martin. He looked tired and desperate to be off-duty and in fairness he had never looked truly comfortable meeting the public. “Have you finished your book signing now?” “Yes.” With that, it was a smart move to the lift and a swish shut of its doors. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to do any more engaging with people that day. We understood, but it was comical. Much later, Stew asked me what I had thought of Martin Parr?
“He seemed to spend a lot of time telling us he was controversial and not much about why he likes taking photographs.” I could tell Stew was surprised by my reply. He pointed out that at most talks we have attended, photographers have put on a slide show and revealed the backstory of certain images as they appeared. Or they would say why they liked them. Their enthusiasm was infectious. But the National Media Museum took charge of screening Martin’s images. Martin and Susie had sat with their backs to them. This could explain why they seemed detached. When I looked at Stew’s contact strip, I could identify another reason why Martin might have seemed detached. Susie has an expressive face. Stew has caught photographs of her smiling, blinking, moving her hands while talking, looking down, looking away. But Martin looks almost identical in every frame. I was even more surprised when I read through my shorthand notes. In fact, Martin came over better when I studied what he had actually said, yet I had almost no memory of him saying them. The disparity between my initial impression and the reality is a puzzle that I’m still pondering.