Copy that ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

As a kid, I dreamt of becoming a press photographer. All that exotic foreign travel, all that shoulder-rubbing with the rich and famous. In reality, most of my time was spent taking photographs like this .. the mundane, run-of-the-mill, bread and butter shots that filled a local weekly newspaper. (Faces sell 'papers, as they used to say. I talk about it in my fictional novel Page 99, by Joe Bancroft) ..

I recently unearthed an archive of this 'ordinary' press photography and plan to produce a collection of it to add to my stable of self-published books. (Actually, Faces sell 'papers isn't a bad title, come to think of it!) Anyway, my dream came true (obviously) and it's incredible to think but, back in November 1978, I'd just completed my first ever month as a professional photographer. A mere forty-six years ago, for goodness sake. At least photo-copiers have got smaller ..

Bah, humbug ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

The festive season steams in earlier and earlier and I think it's three weeks already since I heard Wham's 'Last Christmas' on the radio. When we moved to France we were rather pleased to see that the shops and supermarkets didn't go as crazy on the commercialism as the UK, but I'm afraid that's all changed now. Our local Intermarché, for example, has had a decorated toy 'grotto' open for business since the start of November. Still, the 'season of goodwill' was always good for me as a freelance photographer, what with all the parties and promotions like the shot I'm showing you today. Back in the day, I used to do a lot of work for Royal Mail, and a regular PR shoot was the arrival of that year's Christmas stamps. (I'm guessing this picture was taken in the early 90s, with pantomime characters out on Manchester's Market Street to plug the launch.) Now, things are so bad that I'm not sure anyone can actually afford to buy a stamp. In fact, I've heard the main Post Office in my home town of Eccles is likely to be shut down to save money. Talk about 'Bah, humbug' ..

Me, me, Moorea ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a relative - a second cousin, I think (never met her!) - who is currently travelling in India and Nepal. I know this because she puts about sixty photographs a day on Instagram. (Me in a bar, me at the Taj Mahal, me in a tuk-tuk .. etc., etc., etc .. ) Now, I've no qualms with this and think it's lovely that she can relay the story of her trip to friends and family back home. It just reminds me of the time I did a round-the-world trip in 1991. Back then there were no mobile 'phones, no internet, no nothing! I shot all my photographs on Kodachrome 64 transparency film and posted the rolls home so that my Dad could forward them on for processing at Kodak's Hemel Hempstead labs. I didn't see a single one of my shots for six months. Now I know that's hardly Amundsen and the Antarctic, but it does show you how far things have come in such a short period of time, doesn't it? 

Ps: Since you ask, this is me on the island of Moorea, scene of one of my favourite films of all time. The bay on the left was deemed to be more photogenic and therefore used instead of Tahiti in The Bounty, with Anthony Hopkins. It looked so beautiful on screen that I just had to go and see it in 'real life'. I wasn't disappointed ..

Pardon?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A picture I recently posted with reference to tinnitus struck a nerve with a number of people who saw it. Seems there are quite a few of you who suffer as I do, and I'm very sorry to hear it. (No pun intended!) We really weren't warned so much in the way that kids are nowadays about the dangers of loud noise, and I for one used to love getting my head as close as possible to the PA systems at the gigs I went to. Here's a shot from Manchester Apollo just to highlight my stupidity. I wonder if the people in the picture have got squeaky ears ..

I've sold a book ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ah, the power of advertising! Like any budding self-publisher, I'm a stickler for monitoring my book sales on Amazon and, finally, as we approach the end of October, there's been movement on my 'sales report' page. I've sold a book! Yay! ..

Following on from an Instagram post I made last week, one wonderful person took it upon themselves to rush out and order my new photo-book 'Riding the Dirty Dog'. It's a collection of photographs, all shot on Kodachrome, from a Greyhound bus ride I made in 1985 (Twenty-five cities in a week!), and takes to eight the number of photo-books I've produced. Thank you, dear buyer, whoever you are. I hope you enjoy the photographs and feel your ten pounds was well spent ..

If you happen to be the one other photography fan who'd like the book, you can get it here https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CY8ZKX9R

(Or here for the US .. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CY8ZKX9R )

Now then, anyone else ..?

Commercial Break: Check out my other photo-books here .. https://m05911.wixsite.com/my-site-2/about

Good grief, Charlie Brown ..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this exact time last year I was - and I make no bones about it - pissed as a fart. It was the day of my brother's funeral and the last of us hardy souls were still going strong at a pub called The Grapes, in Eccles. Today isn't a day to be maudlin, though. Instead, I'm thinking of the great times I've had with people who are no longer with us. People like my cousin Ricky here, who I photographed in a gross state of .. er, exaggeration! We were all shocked last month to hear of the sudden death of one of our French friends in the village .. gone at 73. Sad though that is, it brings a smile to my face now to think that I'll always know him as Snoopy, a nickname I gave him after I discovered his love of the cartoon character. (Literally good grief, Charlie Brown!)  

The good times. Always remember the good times .. 

Night School

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know what they say about writing, right? Edit, edit, edit! So here I am, editing (yet again) my book Page 99, by Joe Bancroft.

I've just reached a part where the protagonist Joe enrols at night school. Remember night school? I certainly do. Each year, just about this time, the Eccles Journal would have a multi-paged pull-out featuring all the new courses that were on offer at the various further education venues around the town. There was a mouth-watering range of subjects and pricing that meant you'd be stupid not to take a course. I remember signing up for art, shorthand and, of course, photography when I was seventeen years old. Great days ..

Incidentally, here's the piece from my book ..

The ‘Photographer’s Eye’. Joe just had it. Could ‘see’ when a photograph was right. He could feel it. Would know when there was no other way to improve on a composition. It thrilled him to bits, which is why he signed up for a night-school course enticingly entitled ‘Tricks of the trade for the experienced amateur’. It spanned twelve Thursday nights in an annexe of the Green Lane adult education centre and Joe initially went just to enquire about the course but was convinced he should enrol after a fortunate chance meeting with Phil, the tutor. The guy’s chilled vibe, scruffy beard and posh, diffident voice were all very nice, but Joe put his name down the second Phil told him that, in no uncertain terms, would they be photographing rainbows or robins or waterfalls. What they did photograph - in only the third week - was a semi-professional model, the likes of whom Joe had never seen in his life; a blonde, crop-haired, perfectly made-up Heaven-sent Goddess called Janine, who sported lip-liner and blusher under a cheeky, tilted fedora and introduced him in no uncertain terms to the concept of ‘out of your bleedin’ league, mate’. Annoyingly, during the shoot, Phil kept rabbiting on about lighting and angle, exposure, pose and shadows, when all Joe could do was drool at this vision in a hat.