Pete James © Brian Griffin

We have been extraordinarily saddened by the death this week of Pete James, a curator and researcher of enormous talent and influence within the field of photography, both within the West Midlands and far beyond.

Pete worked for 26 years at the Library of Birmingham to establish its internationally recognised photography collection, a position which allowed him to commission and develop projects with a wide range of world-class artists and photographers on site and at other galleries around the country.

A handful of the very many artists and collaborators Pete worked with over the years pay tribute to his generosity, dedication, achievements and the legacy his work leaves behind.

 

Pete James © Brian Griffin

Stuart Whipps

Pete James was an exceptional man. The efforts it took to build an internationally recognised collection of photography, working in a provincial and often precarious context, would be more than enough to warrant the huge respect everybody had for him. But actually, what Pete did was much more than that. He bought the collection to life. He did this through countless exhibitions, publications, commissions, residencies and he did this because he believed in people.

This outpouring of respect has been equalled by an outpouring of love and that comes from the way Pete did all of this. Always with a dedication to making things the best they could be but never at the expense of a personal investment in everybody involved in the project. He wanted to share the work with everybody and he wanted everybody to take a share in it, to have a stake in it.

I spent some time looking back over my emails with Pete this week. Two things stood out:

He always made a joke. Sometimes they were funny.

He never said no.

Pete supported me not long after I graduated by giving me some money from the library budget to buy some film and pay for developing costs. It was a modest amount but for me at that time, it was everything. It’s not dramatic to say that meeting Pete changed my life. Life with him not around will be a change again. For those of us who were lucky to work with him, his exceptional legacy goes someway to easing the pain of this change.

 

Brian Homer

The new Library of Birmingham opened in September 2013 with a festival which included three days of Self Portraits. Prior to the opening Pete had commissioned me, Timm Sonnenschein and Graham Peet (then of The Public) to create 1000 Self Portraits for the opening and these were displayed on the huge screens in the lending area and can often still be seen.

We worked closely with Pete in the run up to the opening including consultation with the development team to get the screen specification sorted. Pete was a delight to work with – straightforward, caring and he negotiated the inevitable bureaucracy with a wry smile but a positive attitude.

But before this commission he always had a keen interest in the Handsworth Self Portrait that I had done in 1979 with Derek Bishton and John Reardon.

When Ten.8 photography magazine closed in the early 1990s, holding a range of exhibition material, he brokered the joint purchase of the original HSP prints by the Birmingham Central Library and Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery.

Pete deserves enormous credit for this resurgence of Self Portrait work and it’s is so sad that we will not be able to work together as planned in Multistory’s Blast Festival in 2019 – marking 40 years since Handsworth Self Portrait. This is just a small part of his impact on photography in the UK and there are many other who will have similar stories to tell. His presence on the photography scene will be greatly missed.

 

Pete James at the Library of Birmingham. Image courtesy Faye Claridge

Faye Claridge

Pete James was exceptional and I’m so grateful to have known and worked with him.

Reflecting back I can hardly believe we first met almost 15 years ago and that his quiet support was so generously available over all that time. Always open to new ideas and keen to promote innovation, he took risks in loaning me archive materials, gave me early platforms to talk at conferences, nominated me for awards, was a catalyst for the major Kern Baby commission and secured my works for perpetuity in the Library of Birmingham collections.

His support extended way beyond library interests and I’ll never forget the dedication he showed when he and daughter Nola slogged across Shropshire on erratic public transport just to be part of the Weighty Friend intervention.

The lasting benefits of feeling supported like that cannot be measured and I’m incredibly grateful to him, and to his family for sharing him even when they knew his health and energy was limited. My thoughts are with them all now.

 

Vanley Burke

It is with deep deep sadness that I heard of the death of a friend, one who has played a major part in my personal life and my photographic career.

His passion for photography was second to none, from his position as head of photography at Library of Birmingham he reached out to many academic, established and aspiring photographers helping to shape their career.

He opened up the city’s photographic archive and added new material making it more representative of the city’s diverse cultures. He was always traveling, writing, giving lectures on different aspects of the archive but more often on his passion which was the work of Sir Benjamin Stone. I was looking forward to catching up next when we would be in conversation at Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery (Who Is Birmingham), part of Collecting Birmingham.

Pete James you will be sadly missed. My condolences to the family, Heather, Nola, Evan – stay strong.

 

 

We have been extraordinarily saddened by the death this week of Pete James, a curator and researcher of enormous talent and influence within the field of photography within the West Midlands and far beyond. Some of the artists and collaborators he worked with pay tribute.

Thresholds visualisation, Courtesy Mat Collishaw and VMI Studio.

Developed in Birmingham is a season of hands-on workshops, talks, walks and events which reveal, explore and celebrate the city’s significant role in the early history of photography. In our second interview about the season, curator and photographic historian Pete James, talks about Mat Collishaw’s new VR artwork Thresholds, currently on show at the Waterhall, Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery.

You have worked with Mat Collishaw in Birmingham before but how did this particular project come about?

I’d been thinking about a doing a project to re-create Talbot’s 1839 exhibition using facsimile prints for some time. I’d written about it briefly in a couple of papers and then, around 2012, I discussed a loose idea with two leading Talbot scholars, Roger Taylor and Larry Schaaf. Then the move from the old to the new library came along. This pushed everything on to a back-burner where it stayed until 2014 when Mat and I began collaborating on In Camera, a GRAIN commission to make work in response to the Library of Birmingham photo archive.

Walking through town after the launch of the show I pointed out the former site of the Literary and Philosophical Society in Cannon Street to Mat. At the time I thought the Talbot exhibition had taken place here. I mentioned the half-baked idea of somehow re-creating the show. Mat told me he had been looking for a virtual reality project for some time, but that he had no real interest in the glaringly fantastical imagery usually associated with VR games – or “unicorns and elves and hot air balloons”. He wanted to do something with VR that was quite real and this seemed like a good opportunity. The idea seemed to offer a way to engage with VR, technology which, like photography in 1839, was going to change the way we look at the world. So Thresholds really came about by accident – through a chance collision of our separate and distinct ambitions. Once I got stuck back into the research I discovered that the 1839 show had actually taken place at King Edward’s School on New Street. The Lit. and Phil had been the base for the organising committee. We re-shaped the project around this new site and the rest, as they say, is history.

As a curator and researcher known for working with archives and historical materials, what has it been like to work with such new technologies?

Working with VR has simply been a mind-blowing revelation. It’s been an exciting and daunting roller coaster, a steep learning curve, an experiment and a hugely rewarding challenge.

Mat and I teamed up with Dr Paul Tennent from the Mixed Reality Lab at Nottingham University and VMI, a London-based firm who specialise in photorealistic CGI and VR experiences for architecture and property development. Their technical knowledge and Mat’s artistic vision has utterly transformed the way I think about working and doing photo history. Every time I put the headset on and go back to 1839 new ideas and understandings flood my head.

The collaboration has given me the opportunity to help create a virtual reality representation of what is arguably one of the first public exhibitions of photography, and to be part of one of the first projects using simulated realities to explore photo histories. It’s given Mat the opportunity to work with a new artistic tool, to be at the forefront of a new creative movement, and to make an artwork that, in blurring the lines between reality and reality-reality, asks audiences to think about the impact this new technology will have on our lives.

It’s also stimulated a raft of conversations about how we now use the knowledge gained to create and develop new applications within museums, education, art and research environments; how we can bring together material from globally distributed collections to explore ideas on multiple levels; and how we can share the outcomes with audiences who can’t get to visit the actual installation.

Photo: Nick Hynan Photography

What do you think the ‘recreation’ approach to this historical narrative brings to the subject?

We began using the term ‘recreation’ but stopped soon after we realised that people were taking this too literally. They were beginning to think of the project simply as a heritage project, not an art project.

Thresholds is an evocation of a moment in photographic history which, in turn, seeks to offer a point of departure, a pretext, for consideration of how photography has evolved and impacted upon us – for good and bad – since 1839. It’s a recreation in the sense that it’s based on sound and detailed research about the space and contents represented, but it’s also an imaginary space which enables the modern viewer to consider related ideas from multiple viewpoints: past, present and future.

The ‘recreation approach’ enabled us to ask questions about the future of VR – is it the next big thing or Betamax? Like photography in 1839, it’s an emergent and imprecise technology, and it’s hard to predict exactly where it’s going to go and what impact it will have on us.

I like to think that perhaps one day someone will ‘recreate’ our show using a yet unknown technology, and look back at it as part of another narrative around the history of art, technology and photo history.

Photo: Nick Hynan Photography

The exhibition has been on display in London recently. How is it different in form or context now that it is being shown in Birmingham?

The Waterhall provides much more space than was available at Somerset House. It enables the audience to see the entire installation, which sits like a glowing monolith in the centre of the space, surrounded by contextual and complimentary material.

Our aim is to evoke different contextual ideas and associations around the show at each new location. In London, the show was set against the backdrop of an art fair where Talbot prints, once seen and handled as rough prototype images with no great financial value, are now shown behind velvet curtains, talked about in hushed tones, and sold for vast sums of money.

Here in Birmingham, it’s set in a local historical, photo-historical, almost site-specific context. We have been fortunate to include rare and important material from the King Edward’s Foundation Archive and to show contemporary artworks by Cornelia Parker (Fox Talbot’s Articles of Glass) and Ravi Deepres and Michael Clifford’s film Obscura, which resonate with ideas, themes and pre-histories of photography embedded in Thresholds.

We have also been able to present the show within the context of a programme of complementary exhibitions and events: Jo Gane’s White House in Paradise Street, on show at BOM, and Developed in Birmingham, a series of talks, workshops, and photo walks which, together with Thresholds, explore, celebrate, and promote awareness of the history of photography in Birmingham.

Piece from the Birmingham Daily Mail, 1880 presented as part of A White House on Paradise Street at BOM (Birmingham Open Media). Photo: Nick Hynan

How have you developed the surrounding exhibition from the King Edward’s Foundation Archive?

The King Edward’s Foundation Archive has been a critical part of the project. We used its unique and significant holdings to shape the VR / CGI environment and to inform our understanding of how the exhibition appeared in the school building. Alison Wheatley, the Foundation Archivist, and David Blissett, an architect expert on the work of Charles Barry, provided invaluable insights into the archive material.

We have loaned key items from the archive – including Charles Barry’s original 1833 competition drawings, an architectural model of the school, and a digital projection of 24 glass stereo slides made before the school was demolished in 1936, to tell the story of the school. These 2-D and 3-D objects stand in contrast to the virtual rendering of the school seen in the VR experience. We have also included rare and important documents – including a copy of the original 1839 exhibition catalogue – which provide further historical and narrative context for the VR experience.

What can visitors to the exhibition expect?

Quite literally an experience like no other. A chance to immerse themselves in a cutting edge VR project which combines art, history, and technology in a new and perhaps unique way. They can expect to be transported back to the dawn of photography where they will perhaps share in the sense of awe and wonder experienced by our Victorian predecessors seeing photographic images for the first time 178 years ago. However, I’m more interested in the ideas people will take way from the exhibition than the expectations they may bring to it.

Read the interview with Jo Gane about her exhibition A White House on Paradise Street here.

Thresholds is open at the Waterhall Gallery, Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery from Thursday to Sunday until Sunday 6 August 2017. Booking for the VR experience is advised, but the surrounding exhibition is free.

Information about the full Developed in Birmingham programme can be found here.

Developed in Birmingham is a season of hands-on workshops, talks, walks and events which reveal, explore and celebrate the city’s significant role in the early history of photography. In our second interview about the season, curator and photographic historian Pete James, talks about Mat Collishaw’s new artwork Thresholds, currently on show at the Waterhall, Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery.

A White House on Paradise Street Courtesy of Jo Gane

In the first of our texts looking ahead to Developed in Birmingham, artist Jo Gane discusses her exhibition A White House on Paradise Street, which takes inspiration from a lost photograph made by George Shaw. The exhibition opens at Birmingham Open Media (BOM) on 15 June.

 

A White House on Paradise Street Courtesy of Jo Gane

 

Can you tell me how your research into Birmingham’s connections with early photography began?

Really when I started working with historic processes such as wet plate collodion in 2008. I then worked on a project with Pete James about Harold Baker’s wet plate images of the city in the library collection which was shown at Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery (BMAG) as part of Birmingham Seen in 2009.  This got me thinking about how photographs have documented a continuously changing cityscape from early on. I’ve since started looking at and making images with earlier processes such as daguerreotypes, which led to a conversation with curator Pete James about George Shaw’s early image making in the city.

I like to make work about people who are strong characters. This normally comes across by looking at their portraits. Shaw looks like a good man, he has an interesting, ambitious glint in his eye in the daguerreotypes I’ve seen of him which connected directly with me, a bit like the images I looked at of artist Jo Beck when I made work with his archive.

From this connection with Shaw’s portrait, looking into his archive of exceptionally detailed daguerreotypes was captivating and made me want to know more about what Shaw was doing with the process in the city. His images are so detailed – they sing out as if they were made yesterday – that’s what gets me with daguerreotypes, they are like miniature holograms because of the way the light bounces off the mirror. This crossover of time in photography is one of my key research interests – photographs as a form of time travel. Shaw’s images transported me back into 1840s Birmingham and made me want to make work about this fascinating time in the city.

Shaw was a man with many and varied connections, often through his work as a patent agent as well as his links with science and industry from which interesting theories can be drawn about him as a key figure in developing early photographic technology. Shaw had his fingers in lots of pies, which all came together to create a complex web ideal for developing photography – which would have been incredibly hard for anyone else in this place, with his knowledge and connections, pre-internet.

Artworks from A White House on Paradise Street Courtesy of Jo Gane


The project draws inspiration from an early daguerreotype thought to have been made in the city. What attracts you to the narrative of Shaw’s missing photograph? Why is it missing?

For me, the most interesting thing is always the gap where the solid facts of research have been eroded by time and speculation can create an image and a story. The idea of a missing, super-early daguerreotype of ‘A White House on Paradise Street’ (said to be made within days of the release of operational details of the process in Paris on 19th August) was what stood out to me as an exciting gap that could be filled in with an artwork. Simply the written description of an image taken of ‘A White House on Paradise Street’ sounded so idyllic and perfect I had a picture in my head that I wanted to play with. The importance of the daguerreotype plate as potentially the first one made in England also excited me.

Tracing the trail of historic events that made this image possible is fascinating. The accounts suggest Shaw’s position as a patent agent gave him advanced access to information about the patent information. There also a number of potentially key connections between people in Birmingham and Paris which might have served as a conduit for this information. Shaw’s encyclopaedic knowledge of chemistry, and of sources for the component parts required to  make a camera and produce such an early image  from local manufacturers add plausibility to the  whole story.  You can imagine the myriad of discussions and experiments that went on to allow Shaw to produce this image and the excitement when it worked.

Although the actual plate was referred to in several accounts its now seems lost. I think it is missing because of the turmoil of two world wars in the city, although who knows, perhaps it will turn up? Pete has described the image as his ‘holy grail’ of relics he has been searching for, so I think he’d be happy if he found it, although I think I now prefer the image I’ve imagined of it and would be disappointed as it would inevitably be very different. Although I have looked at later images of the building we believe it was taken of, these don’t have the same air of mystery and importance around them. In fact, the ‘White House on Paradise Street’ was the White Hart Inn and above was the office of the Birmingham Water Works company of which Shaw was a director. That is enough knowledge for me – already it starts to lose its mysterious appeal. I am making an art project after all, not a historic document and need some wiggle room in that gap to make it interesting for me to play with.

 

How and where will A White House on Paradise Street be manifest? And what exactly is a ‘time machine camera device’?

The project will be an exhibition at BOM (Birmingham Open Media) from 17 June 17 – 19 August containing a new series of daguerreotypes inspired by the absence of Shaw’s original plate and the live streams from the cameras. BOM has been an essential breeding ground for the project as it has become a collaboration between BOM Fellows – myself, Pete James and Leon Trimble. Cameras will be spread across the city in locations that are relevant to the early history of photography at Queens College Chambers, Waterstones, the Great Western Arcade and BMAG.

The ‘time machine camera devices’ are small replica Wolcott cameras fitted out with a Raspberry Pi and a micro camera inside the camera body which films and live streams the analogue projection from inside the camera. The cameras were built using historic techniques in mahogany by master cabinet maker Jamie Hubbard and are beautiful objects, with a contradictory contemporary feel due to the visibility of the Raspberry Pi on the back which has been programmed by Trimble. They are time machines as they collapse the gap between the historic and the contemporary through the collision of these two methods of image making.

The design of the camera is based on a Wolcott which was patented in 1840 as a faster way of making a daguerreotype using a mirror rather than a lens. The spirit of invention that went into the lateral thinking design of the Wolcott camera appealed to me in this project.  We also know Shaw made views of New Street with a camera of this plate size and type. There are only two existing original Wolcott cameras in the world, one of which is in the museum collections centre, which could speculatively even have once belonged to Shaw. This original camera has been 3D scanned by Coral Monton and a visualisation of it will also be in the exhibition at BOM.

I’m interested in processes of image making and how these play with the reading of time within an image. Contemporary technology colliding with historic processes makes for an interesting, complex reading of time which I enjoy.


The exhibition has an idyllic, utopian title. How does this fit with the city as we know it today?

I like the contradiction between the feel of the title and the actual area of Paradise in Birmingham it refers to which is currently a construction site. The gap between representation and reality in photography is an interesting space and this gap is made apparent by this descriptive text.  The title harks back to simpler times in the city, although Shaw was living in a very complex, interconnected place which made his work exciting and possible.


What are your hopes for the exhibition?

I hope that the exhibition and the wider projects start to give Birmingham some visibility in its rightful place in the history of photography. Its role is often overlooked, however developments in science and industry within the city moved photography forwards and brought the technology from its birth into infancy. The city has been described as the ‘midwife’ to the birth of photography.

Developed in Birmingham is a series of events devised by curator Pete James which explores early photography in the city and runs until 3 September 2017.

In the first of our texts looking ahead to Developed in Birmingham, artist Jo Gane discusses her exhibition A White House on Paradise Street at BOM, which takes inspiration from a lost photograph made by George Shaw.