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This article
was written in 2002
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An
eerie silence followed the collapse, last summer, of the magazine
formerly known as Creative Camera (1).
It was dramatically broken this spring by two articles in the
press. The first was an emotional first-person "epitaph" for Creative Camera written by its longest serving editor, Peter
Turner(2). Shortly afterwards the Guardian,
a British broadsheet newspaper, published the obituary of Colin
Osman, founder of Creative Camera. Turner's respect and love
for Osman is obvious from reading his article - which, given
its timing, now seems like a pre-emptive obituary for the man
he has called a "father figure”. Turner and Osman enjoyed
one of the most fruitful and controversial relationships of
British photography. Despite being divided by a generation and
by temperament, they shared many attitudes and convictions:
a passion for photography, self-assurance and loyalty, a desire
for change and contempt for the establishment. Together and
jointly they used Creative Camera to articulate the themes that
would define British photography in the 70s and then divide
it in the 80s.
Turner
and Osman began their association in 1969 when Turner became
the second editor of Creative Camera. Turner would edit each
monthly issue, while Osman looked after the business side. His
wife Grace helped out voluntarily. For the next decade Osman
would support the loss-making magazine out of the profits of
the pigeon fanciers' magazine, Racing Pigeon, he inherited from
his grandfather (known affectionately in pigeon circles as The
Colonel). He was also involved editorially - as reviewer, editor
of influential special editions and as researcher. While abroad
on business for Racing Pigeon magazine Osman would meet contacts
that would be useful for Creative Camera. One such celebrated
visit to the USSR got Osman an introduction to Rodchenko's family - so
Creative Camera could boast that it was the first western magazine
to publish unseen photographs by the forgotten constructivist.
Among
Osman's many passions were the Soviet avant-garde; the American
Photo-League; the photojournalism of Europe and Drum in South Africa; and nineteenth-century English social photography.
This interest in radical causes and print was influenced
by his childhood in London; the family business was publishing, of course, and
Osman remembers the house being packed with books and periodicals
(3). Importantly, his father was a member of the left-wing
Fabian Society. In 1995 he told an interviewer that if he
hadn't been "inclined to socialism" he would have
become converted after serving as a seaman in the Royal Navy,
after the war (4).
In
the 70s Creative Camera assumed two distinct identities - each
reflecting the personalities of the duo that produced it. Osman
was concerned with the pre-war European roots of British photography.
He knew prominent figures, such as Kurt Hutton, who were featured
and interviewed. Others, like Picture Post photographer Tim
Gidal, became close friends. By contrast, Turner was interested
in contemporary trends that came from the U.S. and he was a great champion of Robert Frank. Turner was
primarily inspired by the processes of design and editing; he
relished working with photographers. Neither
man had time for analytic texts and this often angered
critics (5). With hindsight one can see
that historical and contemporary strands were discrete and complementary.
For instance the notion that the best contemporary photographers
belonged to a "documentary tradition," based in the
pictorials of the 30s, was hotly contended. So to champion British
contemporaries such as Chris Killip and Chris Steele-Perkins,
while celebrating émigré photographers of the pre-war era, was
to take a stance. Meanwhile, Osman's foraging into uncharted
areas of photography unearthed material which shed light on
overlooked histories - such as the Arbeiterfoto movement of
30s Germany and the work of John Heartfield. This was of huge interest
and relevance to Jo Spence, among others, whose evolving practice
and theory was informed by the European anti-Nazi resistance
(6).
It
seems Turner was able to work with Creative Camera's owner easier
than his predecessor, Bill jay. When Osman met Jay the latter
was on a one-man mission to shake up British photography from
the slumber of the pre-war years. Jay convinced Osman that he
should purchase an ailing amateur title called Camera Owner
and then turn it into something "serious" like Photography
magazine, once under the editorship of Norman Hall. Osman agreed
and Camera Owner morphed into Creative Camera in February 1968
with a reforming agenda. Osman and Jay fell out after the latter
left to edit the short-lived Album.
Osman
and Turner seemed unlikely bedfellows. Osman was 41 when he
founded Creative Camera and still affected by the harsh experience
of war-time London. Turner, in his early 20s, was idealistic
and (by his own account) arrogant. He studied photography at
art school in Guildford in 1965, at a time of student sit-ins. Before Osman became a serious amateur,
he had been jobbing photographer for Racing Pigeon and a cheesecake
photographer. Turner had discovered Creative Camera while eking
out a living as a journalist with a consumer photography title
and a some-time commercial photographer.
He was instantly impressed by Bill Jay's no-holds-barred style
and was galvanized by meeting his fellow co-editors David Hurn
and Tony Ray-Jones, who were both renowned photographers at
the time. For Jay, as for Turner, photography was one of the
radical causes of the 60s and he continued to think of himself
as a sort of activist.
From
that point on photography became Turner's surrogate family and
Osman his surrogate father. His life would follow a trajectory
from the youthful idealism of the early 70s to the testing realities
of the 80s; a trajectory that parallels the story of British
photography itself. With Jay in the U.S., he was free to assume the mantle of guru and proselytizer,
defining the identity of the emerging scene, travelling the
world to meet the key players, and advising, voting or lobbying
on all the panels that mattered. Then in 1978 he abruptly left
the magazine, to teach and to publish photography books. Things
took a downturn in the 80s as Turner's publishing company, Travelling
Light, sank into financial trouble. He seemed to disappear from
the scene as the scene itself polarized into pro- and anti-icon
factions with Creative Camera as one of their battlegrounds.
In
1986 Turner and Osman began their second collaboration at Creative
Camera. The magazine they had edited effectively died in 1980
when Osman couldn't afford to support it. It returned in 1981,
resuscitated by an Arts Council grant. While Osman assumed ownership,
he relinquished some control over contents to an editorial board
that was put in place at the insistence of the new funders.
Turner was a member for a while. From most accounts it was an
uncomfortable ride for everyone. One board member complained
that Osman obstructed their aims and kept all the review books.
Osman disliked the imposition of the board, comparing the Arts
Council with an iron-curtain communist regime. He once told
me that some board members tried to stage what he called "a
putsch" by conspiring with the Arts Council to acquire
the title without consulting him.
Eventually
Osman and Turner found themselves in the firing line as part
of the wide-ranging - at times vituperative - critique of modernism,
emanating from Britain's new academic courses, and finding expression in Ten. 8 magazine, also funded by the
Arts Council. Creative Camera was singled out for promulgating
a narrow, elitist view of photography and being non-critical
and anti-intellectual. Its ethos of "us and them"
and "good versus bad" seemed outmoded and irrelevant.
It had originated with Bill Jay who saw Creative Camera as an
avenging vehicle that would purify photography - galvanize right-thinking
people against the shabbiness of club photography and rank commercialism
as well as snobbery if - Osman preferred to underwrite losses
rather than make compromises with content to attract more conventional
readers, then surely he had the right to publish whatever he
wanted. The fact that Creative Camera didn't seem to have a
reader that could be imagined, and appeared indifferent to the
consequences, made it eccentric, rebellious and unpredictable.
This gave it a character that some readers valued highly as
an antidote to both consumer publishing and "saintly" academic journals.
Turner
has credited Osman with being the benefactor of Creative Camera
and, axiomatically, a patron of British photography at a formative
moment. Osman would usually dismiss suggestions that he was
in the least altruistic. He would give a sensible reason for
his commitment to Creative Camera. It was ostensibly for sound
business reasons: that he saw the magazine as a way to promote
sales in the Book Room (the fabled photography bookstore, run
by Grace, that shared a building in
Doughty Street with Racing Pigeon and Creative Camera). He told
an interviewer that he got into photography publishing as an
indulgence - a way to escape the "claustrophobia" of the pigeon-racing world (7). He was
rightly proud of the cultural achievements of his magazine -
those he could identify with - but he was always sure to mention
his collaborators when there were compliments being handed out.
Without Osman's generosity there would have been no Creative
Camera, yet to be owner of an influential magazine had its advantages
- such as status and access to knowledge and contacts. He developed
a profitable sideline wheeling and dealing. He wrote articles
(latterly as editor of the Royal Photographic Society's Photo
Historian) and books that were designed to create a demand for
objects in his vast collection. Together with Tim Gidal he made
a killing selling a complete set of Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung
to the art library at the Victoria & AlbertMuseum (8).
Another perk of the job was influence, of course, and Osman
used his voice to agitate energetically on behalf of photography
at the highest levels of the art world. In the January 1982
issue he had readers transfixed when he defied the (then) director
of the Tate gallery in London to define the difference between
an artist who takes photographs (who would be represented in
the collection) and a photographer (who wouldn't).
Osman
always regretted that Creative Camera couldn't be made to pay
its way. He felt let down by "serious photographers"
and would routinely curse Camera Owner's distributors for falsely
inflating the circulation figures. Then one day he admitted
that he had himself to blame. "It took me a very long while
finally to admit that my dream...was in fact only a dream
(9)." When Osman finally sold Creative Camera in
1986 some smelled a plot to reinstate modernism by the back
door because Turner was mysteriously appointed as editor. Details
of the hand-over from Osman's company, Coo Press, to the non-profit-making
company, CC Publishing, are murky even today. Osman received
an undisclosed sum in return for the title and its assets, and
obviously pushed to have Turner back. Meanwhile the troublesome
editorial board was dissolved. Asked why he sold up, Osman gave
reasons of health (he was always plagued by bad eyesight) and
complained that he'd lost patience with the 'PC' Arts Council(10).
He was 60.
I
got to know Turner midway through his second term as editor,
a few years before I become his deputy editor. Though
visibly drained by the effort of producing a monthly, virtually
his passion and self-deprecating wit. Plainly editing
this version of Creative Camera was a lot different. He was
torn between loyalty to those readers from the 70s, who shared
his values, and the need to address the aspirations of younger
readers - and he had to pay attention to the shifting agendas
of the Arts Council, which supplied around half the income.
When I joined Creative Camera in 1989, Turner began grooming
me for his job. One of the last issues he edited before leaving
for New Zealand, in 1991, was one of his best - a survey of new British
photography featuring upcoming talents of Brit Art. In the true
Creative Camera spirit this was ahead of its time.
I
last saw Colin and Grace in June 2001 for sandwiches and wine
at their cluttered north London home. Even though Colin had resigned from my board several
years previously, I felt that he deserved to hear the fate of
the magazine from me. I remember he gave one of his withering
sighs and shook his great bearded head. I will remember Colin
with great affection as an otherworldly figure that was a bit
of a rogue but had a lot of integrity.
For
some the Creative Camera of the 70s, with its silver covers,
was the ultimate photography magazine, while for others it was
a travesty. The magazine evolved from the contrasting personalities
of Jay and Osman, but that relationship was too volatile to
endure. Turner's willingness to work with Osman ensured that
Creative Camera would benefit from a combination of tradition
and reforming zeal as well as a shared love of subversion.
Colin
Osman was born on August 16, 1926, and died on April 12, 2002.
Peter Turner was born February 3, 1947, and died on August
1, 2005.
NOTES:
(1)
DPICT, the successor to Creative Camera, which I edited,
was forced to fold last June (2001) after the Arts council
of England completely withdrew its funding.
(2) Peter Turner, Kiss the Past Goodbye:
An Epitaph to creative camera," New Zealand Journal
of Photography, No. 2, Summer 2001,
p. 5. (Reproduced on this web site)
(3) Oral History of British photography (1996). Interview with
Colin Osman (tapes F4328-4334.) He was Interviewed
in 1995.
(4) Ibid.
(5) In April 1973 the magazine, Le Nouveau Photocinema, criticized
the magazine far the "absence of critical appreciation
by the editors."
(6) Jo
Spence, Putting Myself in the Picture (London, England: Camden
Press. 1986), p. 62.
(7) Oral History
of British photography (1996). Interview with Colin Osman (tapes
F4328-4334).
(8) Ibid.
(9) Ibid.
(10) Ibid.
DAVID
BRITTAIN was the Editor of Creative Camera, latterly DPICT,
from 1991 to 2001.
COPYRIGHT 2002 Visual Studies Workshop
COPYRIGHT 2002 Gale Group