There’s an incredible documentary about one of my photography heroes, Tish Murtha. Tish is a documentary photographer who grew up in extreme poverty in the North East of England. There are important lessons we can all learn from her work.
During the 1980s, the North East of England, where I live, suffered greatly from the Thatcherite economy. Those policies destroyed local industries. The then Prime Minister’s claim that “there is no such thing as society” is reflected in the impoverishment of entire communities as the government fails to replace those struggling industries with gainful employment. meaning. Similar experiences are felt around the world in neo-liberal countries where all that matters is profit.
Yet, as sometimes happens, a photographer rose from the ashes of ruin who was able to create powerful images out of that socioeconomic disaster.
As a young woman, Tish’s skills with a camera were recognized by her photography tutor, who encouraged her to study further. She then won a scholarship to study at the University of Wales, Newport, which is famous for its photography courses.
She photographed the people around her with brutal honesty. Her images frequently highlight the damage that economic policies have caused to local communities. The impact of her photography was made all the stronger by the fact that she belonged to that environment and was not “parachuted in,” a criticism aimed at other documentary photographers who seemed to consider usually working class.
The obvious comparison to Tish’s work is Martin Parr’s study, “Last Resort”, filmed around the same time. Although I think his photographs are wonderful, Parr’s work has often been criticized as belittling a working-class world that was foreign to him. Some people believe that his photos lack the compassion and intimacy of Tish Murtha’s photos. I disagree and consider Parr’s photos to be authentic observations from his perspective. However, Tish’s images go further, showing a deep concern for those trapped in poverty that only someone who is a part of that world can realistically portray. They scream that something is wrong with the world and demand that we fix it.
One of the most striking things about Tish’s work is her eye for composition. Especially in documentary photography, this is very difficult to do correctly, especially when there are many people in one frame. The composition of her shots is perfect, which shows she can put herself in the right position and anticipate the action. Her photos are not posed but a recording of what is going on around her. Furthermore, I would argue that her ability to capture the decisive moment is superior to Cartier-Bresson, who coined the phrase.
I think there are some lessons we can learn from her story.
First, making a living for photography artists is extremely difficult. It’s different if a photographer produces a series of photos for a client, such as wedding, product, or school portraits. However, photographers like Tish who produce documentary images of everyday life, no matter how powerful and historically important those images may be, often cannot rely solely on commercial success. I know a number of excellent artists and professional photographers whose main source of income is a second job that subsidizes their photography.
This is even more true for female photographers. Inequality and bias based on gender as well as race and religion still very much exist in our industry around the world. Happily, in the UK and many other countries we can see an increase in the number of excellent female photographers. However, imbalances remain and there is a long way to go before equality is achieved. That’s partly because people with foolish attitudes toward equality still stand in the way.
Second, outside of the realm of sausage maker photography, relatively few people in the art world hold the purse strings. Funding processes are highly competitive, applications are often unnecessarily complex, and are therefore inaccessible to many. Furthermore, funding decisions sometimes seem arbitrary. Because finances are held by what is sometimes considered the upper class, subsidies can be denied to those who have no personal relationship with the holders of the funds.
As is the case in many fields of photography and life, success is achieved not only through achievement but also through a self-perpetuating condition that continually rewards and attracts those already at the top. The same applies to equipment; People buy the most famous brands for no other reason than because doing so is fashionable. Likewise, although there should be plenty of clearance at the top, the level of guarding ensures little chance of talented photographers climbing those top steps.
The third lesson is that the most powerful images are often those that convey difficult messages. When you look at the works of Tish Murtha, Dorothea Lange, Robert Capa and Don McCullin, you will be deeply impressed by their humanity and sincere empathy for the hardships the subjects experienced.
Some genres, such as documentary photography, are more powerful than others. Of course, the emotions evoked by powerful photographs are not the only valuable emotions we get from photos. However, one cannot usually expect to feel the same anger, passion, empathy, fear, or sadness as one does when viewing images of human suffering when viewing an image of a flower or a bird. on a stick or a lamb frolicking in a field.
Fourth, photos have real power. It is helpful to remember that photography can be used not only to raise awareness but also to bring about social change. Tish’s work and the poverty she documented were even discussed in the British Parliament.
On a brighter note, the fifth and final thing we can learn from Tish’s story is that our best photos come from our familiar environments. Tish is part of that world. Because she belonged to it, she was accepted by the people she photographed and was able to portray their lives with brutal honesty and compassion. Likewise, the best photos we can take are because we are very familiar with the environment in which we live and the subjects we photograph. We instinctively know how the light will shine, how the subject will behave, and where we should place the camera. No matter where you live, there is always something you can learn to take better photos than anyone else.
Tragically, Tish Murtha passed away at a relatively young age in 2013, at just 56 years old. At the end of her life, she struggled to make a living. It’s ironic that she’s unemployed, doesn’t receive any grants for the projects she wants to do, and can’t pay her bills. She applied for menial retail jobs that she didn’t get because she lacked experience in fields other than photography. It seems our society has failed her, and thus has been denied more pictures from a tremendous talent.
I highly recommend you watch it Tish Murtha website and many other images stored on the British Cultural Archive. For photographers who have access to BBC iPlayer, documentary, Tish, can be viewed here. It was both uplifting and heartbreaking.
I thank Tish’s daughter Ella for allowing me to use the photos to illustrate this article.
