John Blakemore is one of those very rare individuals in British photography whose work is known, and appreciated, across the entire spectrum of the craft. Whether you talk to advertising or editorial photographers, artists or darkroom specialists, his reputation is held in equal respect. One of the strengths of his imagery lies in its elements of accessibility. It's work that someone entirely new to photography can approach and enjoy. Yet it retains a multi-layered sophistication normally entirely detached from the more popular end of photographic practice.
In looking at the images enclosed within this new book I'm reminded of a piece written in the late eighties: considering in passing how so many of his admirers wax lyrical over the seductive beauty of his still lives without ever discerning the more savage element of their construction, and the metaphors implied. For the delicate flower still lives include subjects mutilated to expose their sexuality, along with other examples of the same flora deprived of the water that would have extended their existence. Allowed to wrinkle, shrivel, and dry they attest to their brief mortality: instigating thought trails leading perhaps towards humanity's own transient tenure on life.
Uncommonly for a book on technique, chapter one starts out by attempting to define a relationship between the medium and the message. For meaning flows freely from the shifting tones on these paper prints. Later on we'll learn about the mysteries of Dr Beer's developer: mixed as two baths, soft and hard, puritanical sounding when voiced, yet in the hands of a craftsman offering infinite possibilities for the final print. But at the outset it's meaning that is paramount.
Blakemore was always said to be an adherent of Ansel Adams' Zone system. But notions of previsualisation seem to have dropped off along the way as he considers what he describes as the possibilities of post-visualisation. Not for him perhaps Adams' rigid adherence to the image foreseen at the time of first releasing the shutter: interpretation becomes an issue into which time may be allowed to intervene.
Blakemore, the man, by contrast is much given to mirth: smiling is a word that readily springs to mind while considering ways to describe him. He's a quiet man, and contemplative, with a good sense of irony, who will be much amused by the notion of going into print with his definitive treatise on black and white photography at a point when the majority of the photographic world accelerates towards the digital future. Indeed he alludes to this in both introduction and conclusion. But the publishers needn't be concerned about recouping their investment. This is a book of relevance to all interested in photography, will find pride of place on many a book shelf and is to be highly recommended. For unlike other practitioners Blakemore has never made a secret of his methods; and he's happy to discuss, in as much detail as a single book on the subject can, his career's accumulation of technique.
Similarly to the images contained within its covers, it is multilayered: serving both as tutorial and testament. Despite it's disguise as a textbook dedicated to the process of chemical printing, in many ways, rather than the acclaimed collections of his photographs, it is this publication that will be regarded as his magnum opus. In failing to restrict itself to the technique of monochrome photographic developing and printing implied by its title, John Blakemore's Black and White Photography Workshop offers it's readers the rare privilege of a portal to the thought patterns of a master