Stories

For almost as long as he’s been taking pictures, Sydney Morning Herald photographer Steven Siewert has been fascinated by sub-cultures.

‘Will Hine hovers above a backside lipside on a dark Melbourne night,’ says one.’A switch kickflip to switch frontside crooked grind,’ says another.

When he was a child, Stephen Berkman recalls, there was only one photographic book in the house, which was The Family of Man. ‘I was five years old’ he says, ‘there was this mysterious photograph I was obsessed with. It’s the one by Wynn Bullock of the young girl lying naked and motionless in a field of ivy. There was something inexplicable about that image, that would cause me to return to it endlessly and conjecture all sorts of scenarios, I would think about what had actually transpired here? What were the moments prior that led up to this, and what happened after…?’

Asked if he’d describe himself as a photojournalist, Roger Garwood hesitates for an instant – but only an instant. ‘Yes I would.’ he says. ‘It’s a word I always found rather pretentious. Frankly, these days there are lots of people out there calling themselves photojournalists, some of them can barely read or write. But I’m a little less cautious about using the term now. It’s become more acceptable, whereas years ago it was one of those trendy things to call yourself.’

It was the early 1950s and the young Dutchman, then working as a painting contractor, was flying from Perth to Derby on business. When it’s up to cruising speed, a DC3 plods along at fairly sedate 300 kph, so Woldendorp and his fellow passengers would have had a good five or six hours to gaze at the scenery.

When you think about it, a great wedding photographer has to have the lighting knowledge of a studio expert, the agility and unobtrusiveness of a street photographer, and the unerring sense of timing of a Cartier-Bresson. Nor is that an end to it. The truly successful wedding shooter also has to be a skilled diplomat and behavioural psychologist in order to cope with the surging emotions of a special day. And of course he or she can’t ever miss any of the must-have shots of those not-to-be-repeated moments (the aisle, the rings, the kiss).

Anita Mathews Pollard’s poised and slightly cinematic photographs are for the most part small objects, often no larger than a postcard – and that’s exactly the way she wants it.

A group of 10 Australian photographers are making a significant mark on the national and international photographic scene – and even photographic history – through their dedication and commitment to the process of making pictures. Collectively called Oculi they have more than 20 world-class awards between them and a massive wealth of working experience as photojournalists. They seek process over outcome, and their work reminds us that creative excellence is about dedication to one’s craft while allowing the spirit of discovery to lead the way. Oculi is showcased on their website, where the photographers post a changing gallery of images of daily life.

One country, one person, one Australia. The idea came to Melbourne’s Michel Lawrence out of disgust, but the result was much more positive.