Seacoal

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LH: So, in the photographs where intimate stuff is happening, the people aren’t really looking at you, necessarily. They’re just going about their lives. Do you then wait for the moment that you want? Do you let life just happen? Then comes three major series, including Killip’s Seacoal project. It was made between 1982 and 1984 in Lynemouth, Northumberland, where coal thrown out to sea from the nearby mine would sometimes wash up again on the shore. People would then often gather it for fuel or selling on. Though Killip photographed the area “intensely”, there remained some distance, Grant explains, but he ended up getting a caravan and living on the beach with the seacoal workers. They became close friends, and Grant says that he was still in touch with them at the end of his life. Graham Smith, Bennetts Corner (Giro Corner), South Bank, Middlesbrough, 1982 Photograph: Graham Smith In 1991 Killip was invited to be a Visiting Lecturer at the Department of Visual and Environmental Studies, Harvard University. In 1994 he was made a tenured professor and was department chair from 1994-98. He retired from Harvard in December 2017 and continued to live in Cambridge, MA, USA, until his death in October, 2020. Unlike Killip, Smith belonged to the community he had photographed. The people who were “defiled” in the article, he writes, “were mostly people from the close community of South Bank, the home town and workplace of my father and his father.”

CHRIS KILLIP Photographer CHRIS KILLIP Photographer

The exhibition begins with Killip’s work in the Isle of Man, where he was from, followed by his photographs made in the north of England in the early 1970s. In these images, Grant says, “you get a sense of someone who’s really excited about discovering photography and what photography could do, but also excited about moving through the north of England and figuring out what was taking place there”. Gordon in the water, Seacoal Beach, Lynemouth,1983 Helen and her hula hoop, Seacoal Camp, Lynemouth, Northumbria, 1984 Chris Killip’s work is impassioned, urgent – but it is rarely tragic, despite the circumstances faced by many of the people he photographed, and remained close to, over the course of his life. There are images that will evoke tragedy in some audiences, but then, for Killip, it was never about audiences. Industry, its decline and the transition between the two were recurring themes in his work, but through his humanistic lens, those subjects were always second to the people most impacted by them. Youth on wall, Jarrow, Tyneside, 1975 The later 1960s saw Killip moving towards an intermittent but rewarding freelance career assisting London photographers and working for those arriving in the city for short commissions. An early job was revealing in its fluency: the French photographer Jeanloup Sieff arrived with a small bag containing only a camera, lenses and change of clothes, leaving Killip to buy film just ahead of the shoot. His reputation growing, he agreed terms to assist Justin de Villeneuve, who was responsible for the fashion model Twiggy’s corporate image, as they travelled in a Rolls Royce along the King’s Road. Killip would arrange the studio lighting and process for each shoot, leaving de Villeneuve to do little more than press the shutter. Their aim was to have cover shoots for Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar and Queen magazines within six months, a goal they subsequently achieved. I am the photographer of the de-industrial revolution in England. I didn’t set out to be this. It’s what happened during the time I was photographing.” —Chris KillipGordon in the water, Seacoal Beach, Lynemouth, 1983. Credit: Chris Killip Photography Trust/Martin Parr Foundation Chris Killip, born on the Isle of Man in 1946, is a Professor of Visual and Environmental Studies at Harvard University where he has taught since 1991.

Chris Killip retrospective adds depth to a remarkable career Chris Killip retrospective adds depth to a remarkable career

Apart from a commercial exhibition in Santa Monica, California, in 2008, entitled Three from Britain, in which his work was exhibited alongside Killip’s and Parr’s, Smith has not allowed his pictures to be shown in a gallery until now. His isolation in rural Northumberland seems to have led to a kind of creative reinvention as a writer, with both Edwards and Parr attesting to his skill at recalling the people and places he photographed decades ago. Chris Killip began photographing the people of Lynemouth seacoal beach in the north east of England in 1982, after nearly seven years of failed efforts to obtain their consent. During 1983 to 1984 he lived in a caravan on the seacoal camp and documented the life, work and the struggle to survive on the beach, using his unflinching style of objective documentation. Fifty of the one hundred and twenty four images published here, were first shown in 1984 at the Side Gallery in Newcastle and others were an important element of Killip’s ground-breaking and legendary book In Flagrante, published four years later. Because Chris knew he was dying, and because he was leaving a lot of the work in the [Martin] Parr Foundation as his archive, he did what I’ve been regarding as his first selection of the retrospective,” says Marshall-Grant. The works on display have been curated from that first ‘edit’ by Killip, and, aside from the oversized pieces in the show, the prints were all made by him in the last decade of his life. “So it’s been quite good because we can already feel quite close to what he wanted,” she adds. He is survived by Mary, his son, Matthew, from a previous relationship with the Czech photographer Markéta Luskačová, his stepson, Joshua, two granddaughters, Millie and Celia, and a brother, Dermott. My caravan was like a café and it [had] nice light because the windows were on both sides. It was a good place to photograph.” —Chris Killip

Exhibition Accessibility

Chris Killip/Graham Smith is at Augusta Edwards, London, until 6 November. Chris Killip, Retrospective is at the Photographers Gallery, London, until 19 February It’s fair to say Graham lived a wild life when he was shooting,” says Parr. “He had rough times, drinking, sleeping out. But I think of him as one of the great characters of photography. He’s a bit like Josef Koudelka in that way. Until you sit down with him, and hear the stories, you don’t get it. And, of course, his legend has only grown in his absence.” Does this text contain inaccurate information or language that you feel we should improve or change? We would like to hear from you. They are full of admiration for the work and admiration for the pictures in the way they capture people. I think when we go to the Baltic it will be much more about the people and how they recognise themselves."

Chris Killip, retrospective | Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art

With hindsight, it was a bold and powerful statement by the two great British documentary photographers of the postwar era.” says Martin Parr, who befriended both of them when he lived and worked in Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire, in the 1970s. This week, a distilled version of the exhibition, titled 20/20, opens at the Augusta Edwards Gallery in London. It comprises 20 prints by each photographer and, once again, they will all be exhibited without identifying captions. Killip’s more familiar photographs were taken in Tyneside, often in the shadows of looming shipyards, while Smith’s were made in his native Middlesbrough, often in pubs frequented by himself. Simon Being Taken to Sea for the First Time Since His Father Drowned, Skinningrove, North Yorkshire, 1983. Photograph: Chris Killip

That possibility, alongside the death of Killip, cannot help but lend the exhibition an almost valedictory feel. It is also, like the original iteration, a celebration of their friendship, their mutual respect and the ways in which their different approaches to documentary interact on the walls of the gallery like a lively visual conversation. In his catalogue essay, though, Smith recalls how he initially refused Killip the use of his newly constructed darkroom when the latter first arrived in Newcastle upon Tyne and introduced himself to the pioneering Amber collective that Smith belonged to. “They were chalk and cheese, temperamentally,” says Parr, “and there could be tension between them, but ultimately they knew what they believed in.” When you look at the work in a small sample, you see work which is full of the austerity of the time in which it was photographed,” Grant explains. Industries that had once provided stability were eroding, “and you see a certain pulling of the rug from under communities which I think people recognise and feel for”.