SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 5*

the master of anecdote…

In addition to his many talents, Sidney was a fine raconteur and a master of the anecdote. I related one of his most amusing military national service stories in an earlier post, but the Studio also offered up many hysterical moments, none of which my uncle enjoyed relating more than the story of the prize ram…

About 1969/70, British Woolmark (now Woolmark Company) hired Sidney to do a campaign for them. In his wisdom, the director of the first shoot decided that it would be a good idea to position a prize ram between two pretty models wearing the latest woollen clothes. This might have been a good idea, had it been a pastoral location, but he wanted it to be a studio piece. So, one prize Merino ram, and his farmer were summoned from deepest Sussex to Arkwright Road NW3. Even then things might have worked, had not the ram been brought straight from the muddiest, rain-sodden pasture, it’s fleece – the focal point of the shoot – caked in thick mud.

An old engraving of a Merino ram.

Sidney and his team had no option but to attempt to wash the ram, and with the farmer’s assistance, they managed to get the animal into the bathtub in Sidney’s flat – attached to the rear of the studio. However, the resulting bathe resulted in a drenched, grey woollen mat, rather than the snow-white, fluffy, pristine Merino fleece required by the director. Then someone suggested using a hairdryer to dry the sheep, which, after an hour or so actually worked but it still left the wool looking too dull. Then someone else had the brilliant idea to cover the ram with talcum powder. At this point, the farmer leant over to Sidney and warned him in his rich Sussex tones, “I should warn ye, that e do like to pass a bit o’wind…”.

The resulting photo session was a farcical nightmare: The ram was maneuvered onto the backing paper between the two models, donning their woolen finery. The talc, having got up the animals nose, caused it to sneeze and then fart. Every time it sneezed, a great cloud of talc filled the room like a fog. Every time it farted, a rich, pungent stench accompanied the fog, all of which caused the models to flee the room, choking and gagging. Then, the inevitable happened when the farting culminated in the ram evacuating its bowels – massively.

Somehow, eventually, the shoot was completed, with typically excellent pictures, of serenely smiling, elegantly attired girls, either side of a majestic, pristine and proud ram.

Unfortunately, I don’t have photos from the shoot to show here, but I do have another image which shows that The Studio could also be a place of intentional fun…

One of Sidney’s first assistants at the Studio was David Hendry. He was a tall man, but not quite this tall. This photo dates from around 1960.

* The title picture of a typical location shot product of Sidney’s Studio of the stagier variety, from The Art Director’s Index to Photographers, 1970 edition. Sadly, I am unable to identify the model (all suggestions welcome!) or the brand. Even more sadly, I am unable to gain access to a whole load of Sidney’s and his colleagues material to share on this site, including many famous and culturally important images. Hopefully, one day they will get the exposure they deserve, if not here, on some other platform where their contribution to British and international advertising can be fully appreciated and even perhaps inspire future generations of photographers and advertisers. I feel sure that this is what Sidney himself would have wanted and it is the legacy he deserves…

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 4*

From 1960 until 1975 “The Studio” was a hive of photographic activity. A seemingly unremarkable corner of NW3 (where Arkwright Road meets Frognal, to be precise) became the scene of remarkable commercial and artistic creativity. Some of the UK’s, Europe’s and even some of America’s most iconic advertising images of the era emerged from this most unflashy and unpretentious of locations. Sidney and his gifted, happy team produced a stream of pictures that encapsulated Britain’s mood shift away from dull, post-war straight-lace to swinging 60’s cool and verve.

My older brother Michael in a magazine ad for a-then-state-of-the-art Creda clothes dryer. We can imagine the caption that went with the picture

Moreover, their work didn’t merely reflect the prevailing trends but often set the tone of the times with a stream of iconic (a massively overused word, but not in this case), highly innovative and enduring images.

Sidney the model for once, at his dental practice, with Michael in the chair. My father Gerald Green was the art director of the shoot, and he probably took the photo. In the early days of the studio, Sidney got a lot of work through Gerry (as he was known then) and his partner Bill Young’s agency (Crane Advertising), which in turn received a lot of government sponsored commissions. This was part of a campaign to promote dental health in children…

Famous female faces to grace the Studio included Pattie Boyd (future wife to George Harrison, then Eric Clapton) Nancy Edgerton, Sandra Paul (now Howard), Joanna Lumley,  Celia Hammond, Julie Bishop, Adele Collins, Ann Kerr, Paula Heyworth, Jeanette Harding, Anya Sonn, Tammi Etherington, Davina Taylor, Biddy Lampard, Christine Williams, Julie Bishop, Pat Knight and Margaret Lorraine. Among the male models were Ken Swift, Geoff Wooten, George Lazenby (later 007), Pip Perkins, wrestler, Jackie Pallo and Norman Lambert .

The Green family in another government sponsored ad for family planning, and The London Rubber Company (through the use of Durex). The poignant story behind this photo can be found in an earlier post…

In addition to Sidney and Co’s classic fashion shots, they gave 1960’s Britain an original and often defining glimpse of everything from Danish Bacon, Guinness, Heineken Lager, Paxo Turkey Stuffing, Carr’s Water Biscuits to Max Factor roll-on deodorant (and dozens of other products besides).

An ad for Selfridges boys shirts – in addition to all his many other activities, Sidney was staff dentist at Selfridges for over 30 years. This resulted in him doing much of their ad campaigns in the 60’s and 70’s, and, best of all, being given a lifetime 33⅓% discount card on all products – including sale goods. Being leant Sidney’s card was one of the most sought after perks by all those who worked with him and for him (including his family members such, as Michael and I in this shot)…

Apart from being a seriously good fashion photographer, Sidney was a master of head-shots and a genius with still-life. Long before “food styling” was a thing, Sidney’s food and drink ads in particular were masterpieces of light, colour, depth and shade, often setting benchmarks for all those that followed.

Hannah standing in for a model on a Max Factor shoot on the left, in 1964. The photo on the right dates from 1967, but I can’t recall what it was for. From my recollection models were often late for work, and I think mum was pulled in on at least three occasions for headshots like these…

Unfortunately, I do not have access to much of Sidney’s professional portfolio, and much of the material I do have, I do not have the rights to reproduce here. Nevertheless, I am fortunate to own all of Sidney’s work for which I, and other family members were the models. And, while some of these images will be familiar to regular readers of these posts, there are also one or two charming surprises which give at least a flavour and the atmosphere of the Studio’s output in the early-to- mid 1960’s.

I think this was the final time I modelled for Sidney, about 1967. I know the baseball boots were mine, so I’m presuming that it was for the clothes.

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 3

the team behind the scenes…

When I began this series of posts on Sidney, I had originally planned to do just three, but since then I have had the privilege and the joy of reconnecting with several of his old colleagues, assistants and models, from the days when he ran one of London’s top advertising photography studios. Subsequently, I now have far more material – anecdotal and pictorial, than when I started out on this mission, and so this will now be number 3 of 5 posts in total.

The most striking – not to mention moving element of this process has been how each and every person I have been in contact with has had nothing but warm memories and kind words about Sidney and their time working at “The Studio”.

This post offers a small, illustrated, behind-the-scenes record of those exciting and pioneering times…

An early publicity shot of Sidney and his team (1964 – taken using a timer): Edgar Asher (TL), Henry Sudwarts (TR), Doreen Dahl (CL), Sidney (C), Faith Hollings (CR), Lawrence Sackman (F). Edgar was extremely tall and thin, and is the only person I know to break their leg playing the violin. He was a fine photographer in his own right and went on to work for the Israel Press and Photo Agency. Lawrence – the youngest of the group – learnt his craft well, and went on to a successful career in art and erotic photography, working with Guy Bourdin and Helmut Newton. More on the others below…
Probably taken by my father, Gerald Green (1960), this shows Sidney with Bill Young and my mother Hannah (far left – Sidney’s sister – and I’m presuming that the two other ladies were accompanying Sidney and Bill). Bill was my father’s partner and became good friends with Sidney. In addition to being an add-man he was also a darn good artist. Two of his gorgeous large oil landscapes adorned my childhood home and strongly influenced my own painting style…
Sidney with Henry Sudwarts, who contributed this and several others of the photos shown here and has some interesting recollections from his time at the Studio. Not only did he get to drive Sidney’s prized Alvis motor car, he also remembers a “Dell Boy”* -like handyman who used Sidney’s basement to stash away contraband cigarettes and radios off the back of a lorry! Henry too branched out on his own in fashion photography before moving into TV in Israel. Having married a South African in 1980 he then moved to Cape Town, where after 30 years working in things as diverse as jewelry and tourism, he picked up a camera again and became an acclaimed wildlife photographer . .
Doreen (left) and Faith from a mid-1960’s shot for BEA (British European Airlines) taken at Sagres on the southern Algarve of Portugal. The main purpose of the trip was a job for Women’s Own Magazine, and the girls were both assisting with the shoot. Faith, whose memories and information have been invaluable to me in compiling these posts, was one of Sidney’s photographic assistants. She has something interesting to say that “to his credit Sidney employed me as a photographic assistant even though I am a woman. Women of my age had to fight to earn a place in a male dominated profession and I had spent three years learning my craft at Guildford School of Art under the the wonderful Ifor Thomas, who was head of the Photographic Department.” Faith now lives in Portugal where she works for an animal charity
Henry with Doreen . Doreen was Sidney’s secretary (or PA in today’s terminology), and also an aspiring classical timpanist. Faith and Doreen became friends, and she would sometimes help Faith with photographic duties, including setting up a darkroom on travelling shoots, such as the one above in Sagres. My mother, who did additional secretarial work for Sidney, also became very fond of Doreen. Sadly, I haven’t yet discovered what has become of her or her timpani playing?
One of Sidney’s later assistant photographers was Peter Watkins, pictured here on a shoot at the London Transport Museum in London’s Covent Garden. Peter also went on to have a successful career as a fashion photographer. The young chap seated is yours truly. During school holidays I often got to watch shoots, but this one stood out for the fact Peter drove me there in his open topped MGB GT – my first time in a convertible sportscar. Other notable photographers and set technicians who worked for and/or with Sidney from 1960-1975 and who also helped me with my research, included Brian Jaquest, Derek Berg and David Hendry.

*For those reading this not acquainted with the long-running British sitcom, “Only Fools and Horses”, Del Boy was a spiv (someone who deals in dodgy and black-market goods), and the program’s main protagonist.

SIDNEY – A Tribute: part 2

A portrait of a family

Around late 1959, early 1960, my father, Gerry Green and his business partner, Bill Young launched out on their own as an advertising partnership. They had plenty of contacts in the industry and thus plenty of work, but soon found that the price of good photographers was prohibitive to the success of their burgeoning venture.

Fortunately, Gerry’s brother-in-law, Sidney Pizan, in addition to being a dentist, was a talented amateur photographer, and when approached was open to the idea of trying his hand at applying his skills commercially.

Sidney took to advertising photography like a duck to water, and within a few months, had established himself in Hampstead (in north London) as a professional photographer, getting more work – both from Gerry and Bill, and his growing string of contacts – than he could manage alone. Before long Sidney began recruiting other young aspiring photographers, apprentices and assistants to help him carry the workload and run his business. “The Studio”, as it was known, became something of a commercial photography academy, founding not only Sidney’s career, but those of a string of gifted colleagues.

In my next part of this tribute to my late uncle, I will go into more detail regarding Sidney and his team’s output of fabulous advertising images, but for Sidney himself, despite his success, his greatest creative enjoyment remained his “free” or “casual photography”.

Presented below are some of his best pictures, all of his family (particularly my mother – his sister – Hannah, my older brother Michael and I). If this seems a tad narcissistic on my part, I should point out, that we – his parents, and us – were the epicentre of his life, outside of his professional lives – and were, in a very real sense, his photographic muses. In those days, when out and about or when visiting the Studio , I can’t remember a time when Sidney did not have his trusty Rolleiflex hanging from his neck and him pointing it in our direction. Narcissistic or not, these images are moody, emotive, sensitive, an intimate family portrait, and just a damn brilliant illustration of the photographic portraiture and human study at its very best…

Sidney’s sister (my mum) Hannah, taken in 1960, shortly after being deserted by my father (Gerry the advertising man). I love the way this shot captures her sad dignity…
Sidney’s nephew (my big brother), Michael, in from the garden for a snack…
Me…
Hannah at Adelboden (Bernese Oberland, Switzerland, and much used in Bond films) – our first family holiday abroad in 1962…
Us three…
Adam, playing…
Brothers…
Hannah, happy and beautiful…
Hannah with me in the South of France…
After Sidney retired from commercial photography (in 1975), he turned the studio itself into an up-market picture framery. This was the last photo he ever took of Michael (right) and I together, working in the framery – about 1985.

GOLDEN MEMORIES in black and white

a monochrome glance at my childhood

I’ve talked about the distinctive qualities of black and white photography before on these pages, and how it has an uncanny ability to capture the spirit and mood of a subject far more intensely than colour. It’s something the greats of the genre understood and exploited brilliantly; from the epic landscapes of Adams, and the deeply personal portraiture of Karsh to the lyrical life observations of Bresson; they all utilised the cleansing distillation of grey-scale-monochrome to the ultimate dramatic effect.

However, while the great masters took black and white photography to the level of high-art, equally nostalgic monochrome images were being snapped countless millions of times by less gifted photographers across the globe. And while their results might not classify as works of art, they nevertheless rarely fail to evoke and to entertain.

The images presented here are intended as a case in point and offer a small glimpse into my childhood, growing up in suburban London, which for all its fatherless challenges was almost as idyllic as it looks…

Summer , Edgware, 1963-ish, our back garden “pool”, with me and my big brother Michael and our lovely neighbours, Peter and Susan Gerard
Same garden, different amusements, summer 1966, with Michael again, and assorted neighbours and school friends…
Edgware, Spring, 1967, in the kitchen, Michael and I using our baking sets. We both developed a keen interest in food and cooking from an early age, although I seem to recall that the results of this particular session ended up being fed to the birds…
London Transport Museum, Covent Garden, London, 1968; Being the nephew of Sidney Pizan, one of London’s top fashion photographers had all sorts of perks, like having the run of a fabulous steam locomotive during a shoot for Burberry. That’s Peter Watkins, one of Sidney’s assistants/apprentices setting up a shot with the Polaroid. Incidentally, the legs of the male model standing on the footplate above me belonged to soon-to-be-007, George Lazenby, who began filming On Her Majesty’s Secret Service a few weeks after this photo was taken.

BRIDGES AND FREEDOM “BC”

And when melancholia was a pleasurable indulgence not a permanent state of mind…

So far as its visual content is concerned, this post follows on from a piece I did a few years back, and as with that one, I will allow the photographs to do the most of the talking. During our current dystopian circumstances, I find these images of bridges have taken on added poignancy as symbols of freedom, and most pertinently, of travel. While I yearn for signs of a return of some basic common sense from both those who govern us, and most of those they govern, these low-key “BC” photos of bridges from a dream-like past help me retain a degree of sanity if not much hope…

From top to bottom: Amsterdam, Newcastle Upon-Tyne, Prague, Padua and Dusseldorf.

Cameras used, Nikon FE (using Agfachrome), Nikon D80 and Canon EOS 5

OUT AND ABOUT WITH FAMILY AND FRIENDS

Shortly after my mother Hannah passed away I discovered a large box full of old photographs, going back to before the turn of the previous century. Although they are primarily a record of my maternal family, they are actually so much more than that, as anyone can see from the small selection I have included here. In fact, they comprise a vivid documentary glimpse into the recent social history of London and south east England, before, during and following the Second World War.

For this post I have selected nine photos of assorted people enjoying various outings, from attending functions, and days out and about in London, to summer vacations, away from “The Smoke”. The expression, “a different world” hardly comes close!

The East End of London – circa 1927 – A group of dapper young men , attending a wedding. The diversity of the group is unusual for the time and not a little heartening. The extremely serious looking chap, second from the left is my grandfather, Harry Pizan. His contribution to this particular ethnic melting pot was his recent Galitsiye (Galician) ancestry; he himself having arrived in London from what was then known as Polish Austria (today’s southern Poland) as a two or three-year-old toddler about the turn of the century.
As the scrawls inform us, Margate – August, 1936 – and a large group of bathers, including my grandmother Becky, and her sister Ray; the two shower-capped ladies, arm in arm, toward the top left of the crowd. For those Americans (and others) unfamiliar with Margate of the 1930’s, perhaps think Coney Island?
The Thames at Tower Bridge – circa 1938 – At low tide, the muddy “beaches” along the river were popular places to lark around for London’s inner-city children. The sweet toddler here, slightly unsteady on her feet, is my late mother Hannah with her aunt Dora watching over her. A remarkable person in many ways, Dora only died last year at the age of 103.
West Sussex – circa 1938 – For several summers an extended part of our family visited a farm near Cuckfield in West Sussex. The three jockeys here include my uncle Sidney and his cousin Hazel, up front.
Tower of London – circa 1940 – Hannah again with her brother Sidney (rear) and foster-brother, Avraham, behind her. Avraham was a refugee from Vienna and on one of the first Kinder Transports. My grandparents, Becky and Harry fostered him, and then his two older sisters who escaped on a later transport. Heartbreakingly, their parents and a third, baby sister perished in the camps.
Somewhere in London – circa 1939 – This picture evokes a kind of “Brief Encounter” atmosphere, only with kids (Hannah and Sidney) and mothers and aunts (Becky – rear – and Eva – left), and no illicit lovers, or locomotive smoke, or Rachmaninov…but you sort of get what I mean…For goodness sake, just look at the two ladies either side! Pure Noel Coward characters if ever I saw them!
Possibly Southend (please correct me, anyone who recognises this particular pier…all suggestions on a sepia postcard) – circa 1940 – and a quintessential British summer holiday scene of the times, with a serious bucket and spade (no plastic here!) and a rubber, rubber ring. Cousins of my mum I believe, but not certain who…
Vicinity of Oxford Street – circa 1939 – I simply love this photograph, which has an almost tangible air of “day out” excitement about it. And as for Becky’s hat and coat – I never realised she’d been such a stylish young mum!
Possibly Hampshire – circa 1955 – Hannah, enjoying a miniature break!

ADAM IMITATING ADAMS – and the sublimeness of black and white

It’s always intrigued me that the greatest photographs of landscape ever taken, by the incomparable Ansell Adams, were all in black and white. To this day, when scenes of Yosemite or the Grand Tetons enter my my mind’s eye I invariably see them in Adams’ deeply contrasted, brooding monochrome. For me, as for so many others no doubt, American Sublime is at its most sublime in Adams’ black and white.

Banff Mountain View 1p.jpg

Hence, it might surprise some to know that with the advent of Kodachrome film in the late 1930’s, Adams also took thousands of pictures in colour. His main reason for not publishing most of them seems to have had something to do with the lack of control he felt had over the finished image. Whereas with his black and white work he had total mastery over the entire process, he found colour film (especially early colour film) unreliable as a medium of his vision.

Banff Mountain View 3 p.jpg

Bearing this in mind, it would be fascinating to know what Adams would have made of the digital photographic world of today? While I suspect, in common with many current “film-purists”, he would have been inherently suspicious of film-less images, I also think it’s possible at least, that he would have been equally intrigued by the almost limitless control offered by tools like Photoshop. Whether or not he would have been sufficiently titillated to swap the darkroom for the desktop I somehow doubt, but it’s fun to ponder.

Banff Mountain View 4 p.jpg

Apart from the fact I share the singular form of Adams’ surname as my forename, my own photographic offerings have little in common with the great late master, either as to quality or as to ambition. However, the hypothetical conundrum I pose for Adams above, is something that I, and thousands of my contemporaries – professional and amateur – have actually had to confront. In my own case, I at first resisted the transition from film to digital, until one day, during the early 90’s, a retired professional photographer friend scanned an old film of mine, for me to “play with” using the hitherto unemployed Corel software on my Gateway computer. I was hooked within moments and traded in my old Nikon film camera for a Nikon digital camera the next day. And, over the subsequent years, as I’ve gradually upgraded both my camera and my computer software, I’ve never once regretted the decision.

Lake Louise C p.jpg

The photos here were taken on that first, crude Nikon digital camera, and remain to this day the closest I’ve ever got to emulating Ansell Adams himself – at least with subject matter (the scenery around Banff in the Canadian Rockies) if not in quality. They are presented in their original colour form, side-by-side with Photo-shopped monochrome twins. I upped the contrast to deepen the shadows and dramatise the tones in an attempt to give them a more “Adams feel”, and to see whether I would prefer them, or the original colour images. In the end, for me at least, there is no contest, and thus much to consider for my future landscape photography…

(Camera used: Nikon Coolpix 990)

MONOCHROME MEMORIES OF A COLOURFUL DAY IN THE PARK

My continuing trawl through thousands of old slide films for scanning is proving to be  not merely a trip down memory lane, but more a long voyage of haphazard, bitter-sweet (mostly sweet) rediscovery.

Because the films are all mixed up in no chronological or subject order , the experience of going through them is somewhat dreamlike in its lack of thematic anchorage. One moment I’m back in my childhood town of Edgware looking into the eyes of my first girl friend; the next, I’m hurtling down an Italian Alpine ski slope with the Martini ad music playing in my head before finding myself on a ferry in the middle of Puget Sound.  By the time I’ve completed a couple of hours scanning I feel emotionally jet-lagged. And so it was the other day when I came across one single complete black and white film of a lazy April bank holiday spent in Regent’s Park around 1983.

However, unlike so many of the mostly hazy memories evoked by this process, I found I recalled this particular day in almost every detail. For whatever reason that day is a vivid memory and being suddenly confronted by visual images of it was akin to being back there in the park. And, even more mysteriously, the fact the photos were monochrome merely crystallized my recollections .

For all of that, whether or not they are worthy of illustrating one of my posts, I am not so sure. However, if this does turn out to be simply an exercise in self-introspection, I do hope my that my regular readers and followers will indulge me this once. After all, at their core, these posts form an autobiography, and as such it would be incomplete without memories as colourful as this – albeit, in black and white…