ON SHOW

N E W S ON SHOW

Ever ything from virtual birthday parties to rainbows and the weekly clap for key workers is represented in Hold Still, a unique collective portrait of the UK during lockdown, says Tracy Calder.

t’s not often an exhibition leaves you

Iin pieces, but Hold Still has the viewer f lip-f lopping from joy to despair like no other. Perhaps it’s because we are all still in the middle of a once-in-a-lifetime event, not yet experiencing that relief that comes with distance. Covid-19 is not yet a page in the history books or a set of figures to be analysed without emotion. We are still in the thick of it, witnessing what a global pandemic can do to our lives and livelihoods.

But for every tale of heartbreak and struggle there is a contrasting tale of hope and love.

Launched by the National Portrait Gallery in London in the spring, Hold Still is an ambitious community project that will no doubt prove invaluable to social historians in years to come. Photographers were invited to submit images that fell into one of three categories: Acts of Kindness, Helpers and

Heroes and Your New Normal. The response was impressive – more than 31,000 images were sent in, with entrants ranging in age from four to 75 years old. Choosing 100 images from this pool of work must have been tough, but the selection panel (which included the Duchess of Cambridge and NPG director Nicholas Cullinan) based its decisions on the emotions and experiences conveyed, rather than obsessing about technical ability.

Everything from virtual birthday parties to rainbows and the weekly clap for key workers is represented, resulting in a unique portrait of the UK during lockdown. Each picture tells an isolated story, but when viewed together they sum up our collective experience beautifully. Some of the images are hard to look at: Roni Liyanage’s shot, for example, shows the moment his daughter, Gaby, was finally able to embrace her grandmother following the death of her grandfather a month earlier. ‘“Where’s grandpa?” they whispered as they cried,’ recalls Liyanage. ‘Then Gaby, without hesitation, smiled and pointed to the trees outside the window where he had spent his last weeks, comforted by the view of St Mary Abbots church, where he had been baptised 66 years earlier.’ ne of my favourite pictures was

Oshot by Val Azisi and shows two of her three children squeezed on to the balcony of their second f loor f lat. The oldest child has her face raised to the sky, soaking up the sun, while still in her pyjamas. The younger sibling, wearing her sunglasses upside down, is completely engrossed in a book. As the mother of a seven-year-old girl I know this moment probably only lasted a few seconds, but it has so much to say. The duvet cover drying on the balcony tells of how this space, no larger than a few metres long, serves multiple purposes. The pyjamas encapsulate that feeling most of us had during lockdown – that time was standing still, and yet somehow racing by. Finally, the joy on the children’s faces is complete balm for the soul. It’s a reminder to recognise, and relish, the simple pleasures in life.

Equally uplifting is the kiss exchanged between mother and newborn, captured by Leigh Harris (the father). ‘Despite everything

The first kiss by Ali Harris and Leigh Harris Akuac by Anastasia Orlando

going on in the world, children and babies in particular have a way of keeping us grounded and focused (most of the time!) and we are so proud to have brought a new life into the world during the height of this pandemic,’ says Harris. It’s an honest, raw shot. The mother (Ali) is wearing a facemask, while the baby is pressing himself against a plastic sheet, seeking the most familiar person in the room. The hands of the medical team that delivered him can be seen in the background, slightly overexposed, which gives them an angelic air. It’s a picture of hope. Looking at the baby we project ourselves into the future and imagine that, by the time he goes to school, this will be an event consigned to the history books.

Most of these pictures were not taken by professional photographers; they were not created for commercial gain, or to secure followers or likes on social media. For the most part, they were created because humans have an innate need to tell stories. Often when I visit a photography exhibition I ignore the accompanying captions – so many of them seem to add a layer of unnecessary complexity – but this time I urge you to read every last line. These stories are our stories, individually and collectively, and they help us make sense of what is a complex and troubling time in our lives. Just make sure you have a box of tissues handy when you get started!

SEE THE PICTURES

The Hold Still digital exhibition is available to view online at npg.org.uk /holdstill.