Ann Kelley: poet, photographer, novelist
The project is an ambitious one, and it develops as time passes, as Lucy’s skills are honed, her craft learned.
November – The store interior, shot from above, with stars, rails of clothes, is the best. It reminds me a little of a Brassai. He often made images from a high position, looking down, where shadows became part of the picture. It would look even better in black and white, I feel.
December – the closely observed details – chipped metal railings, detritus, show her awareness of the little looked at, her appreciation of their importance to the world we help to make.
January – the pink camellia with its snowy hood – ‘A photograph is like a poem’ – the Irish painter Tony O’Malley once told me.
February – the cropping is sophisticated – the distressed London poster. I like best the flock of pigeons – ethereal, mysterious, poetic.
March – The sadness of the abandoned, leaf-strewn desolation of the Gents, the dying daffodil.
April – The rat is wonderful – its pale little paws folded neatly over its heart, its poor mouth, the crooked, bloodied fangs. Beautifully observed.
And the mysterious frozen fountains – the people hurrying by. (is the man really carrying a plastic wrapped gun?)
Of the portraits I liked best the gloved fingers, hiding all but one young, all seeing, eye.
I feel that Lucy would have fun using black and white film – or Photoshop her images into b/w. Photography, after all, is all about light and darkness.
Andrew Lamb: photographer
I get the impression of two projects carrying on the same time. One is Lucy’s ‘Discarded Beauty’ and the other is her growing delight in discovering the world through her camera. Both are well realised and rewarding. I was amused by Lucy’s photos of the reception. The cropped photograph of the man drinking his wine is reminiscent of Martin Parr at his most wry.
My favourite photo from the November section is the close up of the tomato ketchup bottle. I love the way an everyday object has been transformed into something quite surreal. This section also sees the start of Lucy’s interest in signs, whole or cropped. Her interest in word-play works very nicely in December street photo of the person eating on a bench, with a large EAT sign behind.
January’s photos are very coherent and strong. I personally feel the strongest shot is the one of the long shadows. It’s an arresting composition and is an interesting example of a monochromatic picture despite being in colour.
In the February section I have the sense that Lucy is hitting her stride. There is a interesting mix of discarded beauty shots and abstracted or cropped signs. However, the stand out image, for me is the landscape of the South Bank. Quite simply, it’s a highly arresting image and the quality of the light reminds me of Evelyn Hofer’s shot of Dublin. A lovely photograph.
For me, the March selection indicates that Lucy is more growing confident in her use of the camera. These are bold yet relaxed compositions and reveal her willingness to experiment. This is best exemplified by the powerful crop shot of the crossing sign.
Lucy’s willingness to crop images to create interest continues in the April section. A personal favourite is the one of the figures running through the water fountains. The photograph of the rat is successful in being a poignant image of an animal one would normally loathe.
The portrait section is unlike the other sections. Lucy has remained visually consistent in her approach. Nearly all the compositions are tight close-ups. There is an ease to them that indicates she had an easy-going rapport with her subjects.
Nicholas Hicks-Beach: writer, photographer
From the outset, it’s clear that Lucy has something no amount of technique can teach—she has an eye for a picture. Even her first attempts at showing ‘the little things’ in a new way—although sometimes let down by technique, or by allowing the camera to decide on focus or exposure—show a flair and an ability to see things differently.
What’s particularly interesting is how this collection of pictures shows a steep learning curve as Lucy begins to explore the possibilities of picture making. In the first few months, she discovers the pleasures of the happy accident, seeing what happens when she uses flash combined with a longer shutter speed to create a sense of movement. Elsewhere, some of these early pictures show a sense of composition; November’s department store shot, for instance, with its decorations leading the eye into the frame. Despite this there is, to begin with, a slightly direction-less feeling; of pictures being taken without any guiding thought. They record what is there (found objects; railings; signs), but lack a narrative, or resonance.
All that changes, markedly, by the time we get to March and April. The framing is more thoughtful (the snow on the bench, with its strong diagonal lines; the leaf-strewn public toilet entrance all over-grown and abandoned). There’s a beautiful frozen, dead rose which is cropped tight, with a shallow depth of field that draws attention to the texture of the decaying petals. Or the way she also crops out the heads of the people playing in the fountains, making it at once abstract and playful; Or the ghostly reflection of the leopard skin-coated woman in the ticket machine.
To compare these pictures with the ones Lucy took only a few months before shows how far she has come. A photo of a light switch with a ‘switch on your happiness’ sticker is diverting on its own; such a frame would fit right in with her earlier shots. But Lucy knows now that including a hand turning on the switch makes all the difference; it’s the difference between a snap and a picture.
She now needs to build on this, and to continue to use her camera creatively: to master the aperture- and shutter-priority settings; to know when to over-ride the camera program to make just the picture she wants; to use post-production software to add another layer of creativity; to experiment; but above all, to continue taking pictures, which is the only way to get better.