NOTES FROM THE UNDERGROUND
A new kind of charity
TONY PALMER
There is a distinct collection of smart ladies in London without whom good works would be almost unthinkable. They turn up with aristocratic reliability at every charitable function and their very presence seems to generate well being. The addition of a titled name on the notepaper goes down well with the serfs, not to mention its publicity poten- tial in the hands of those journalists who slobber at the mouth when the prospect of ducal connections comes into sight. Viewed from the lowly position of the underground, these pampered pantaloons seem necessary anachronisms. For example, at the first of the two Sinatra charities last year, the official souvenir book contained a list of patrons more spicy than Burke's Peerage. One page had a map of the seating plan of the Festival Hall which indicated where Lord Splond, Sir Hubert Funk and Lady Antonia Lurch, the well known film star, would be sitting. My wife tells me this was all intended as a joke.
Some joke. But, nauseating though it was,
the event did raise an enormous sum of money for the NSPCC so it seems a bit
churlish to complain—except that it demonstrated once again that the whole system of providing resources for those in need has hardly developed since the days of Victorian Poor Relief.
Undoubtedly, there are some among the social hierarchy who, perhaps feeling the draught of leisured boredom, have devoted-,
themselves to noble causes for which there can be little reward, either emotional or social. One such is Lindy Guinness or, to ad- dress her, more properly, the Marchioness of DufTerin and Ava. She, at least, is fan- tastically energetic—running the estates in Ireland. helping her husband administer the Kasmin Art Gallery which he part owns, writing articles about furniture, houses, gardens and people for American Vogue and English Queen-Harpers and now becoming a photographer, which she is studying with great seriousness. Photography, that is. Her passion for photography has so far had one positive result. With others she has persuaded the Institute of Contemporary Arts to house a permanent Photographers Centre at its premises in Nash Terrace.
Effectively, the centre will enable photographers, whether professional or amateur, to meet together for 'a mutual ex- change of news and views as well as have access to a permanent collection of original prints and tape-recorded interviews with key photographers talking about their work. In- formation files and books plus a slide bank will also be available. The further intention is to hold a continuously changing exhibition at the Centre and to organise road shows
which will tour Britain, Europe and the USA. Other activities hopefully will include weekly evening meetings for anyone interested in photography including films, discussions ',nd • those inevitable 'special events'. Art schools. camera clubs and almost everyone else are not to be forgotten.
This Thursday, the whole scheme is being announced and inaugurated during a meeting of the Album club which until now
has been a peripatetic organisation 'existing to encourage young photographers. In a way, the association with the ICA represents a minor triumph for the Album group whose gatherings are a direct result of the success of a magazine, also called Album, which was started a year ago by Bill Jay, an ex-picture boss of the Daily Telegraph and editor of another publication entitled Creative Camera, and Tristram Powell, a freelance film director sometime of the BBC'S Arts Department. Rising costs have almost forced the magazine out of circulation; so in another way, Thursday's announcement is a last ditch stand. Jay believes that photography should be taken more seriously than it is. If you are a photographer, he says, you have a choice between working for a newspaper where your work is once seen and then usually forgotten or making your name in the camera club and who, apart from the enthusiasts, has ever heard of them.
Ironically, until the end of the last century, Britain was the home of good photography. No other country could boast such activity, such experiment, such fascination with the medium. Inevitably, expertise grew rampant in the United States where celluloid, both still and movie, was seized upon as if a folk art all its very own. Its use and exploitation dominate the American way of life beyond the wildest nightmares of its pioneers. Today, its grip is stronger than ever.
By comparison, England, as usual, is ill- equipped.. Not through any shortage of world-class photographers, mind you. Terence Spencer of Life, Neil Libbert and David Newell-Smith of the Observer and Don McCullin of the Sunday Times are just a few of those who have world-wide reputa- tions. Larry Burrows was another. Apart from rather meagre sponsorship from the Arts Council who last year set up a photo ex- hibition committee (whatever happened to them?) and two newish galleries, one scin- tillatingly titled the 'Photographers Gallery' in Great Newport Street off the Charing. Cross Road and another in trendy Princedale Road (home of Ink, Oz and Release) called 'Do Not Bend', the British photographers' lot is a dismal one.
The new Study Centre at the icA, therefore, represents a substantial move forward. Undoubtedly it will provide the kind of home base which photographers are always saying that they need. Certainly a chance to display their work publicly in the knowledge that it won't be used to wrap up next week's fish and chips should provide them with the beginnings of respectability. Being at the IcA, however, guarantees only one thing—shortage of money. David Thompson, the new head of the ICA, has pro- mised to loan part of his premises (a disused storeroom) for six months until enough cash has been raised to provide all the equipment and facilities that a more permanent home would require. The tireless Lady Guinness thinks the money no problem. After all, she has already brought together Thompson and Bill Jay !Tristram Powell. With such energy. who can doubt that she will win?
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