As part of the Public Programme, in addition to monographic exhibitions devoted to Don McCullin, Craigie Horsfield, and Sergey Chilikov, there will be a group exhibition entitled “The Magic Lantern Show” and two installations to round off the programme. In the first installation, artist duo Walter & Zoniel are going to turn their space into a huge camera to create the world’s largest tintype; whereas The Real Food Van pays tribute to the henceforth indispensable Martin Parr. Parked in front of Photo London’s headquarters in Somerset House, it will serve dishes during the fair that are inspired by Parr’s photographs from his new book, Real Food (Phaidon).
The first of these exhibitions honours the work of London-born war photographer Don McCullin, who was named, in his 80th year, ‘Photo London Master of Photography 2016’. Does this legend of photojournalism really need any introduction? His iconic images are known the whole world over and have become part of our collective imagination, such as his photo of a shell-shocked soldier during the Vietnam War, in whose gaze, as he stares out from beneath his helmet, we can see the dreadful realisation of the true extent of the horror with which he is confronted. At the time of his nomination, speaking about his life-long relationship with photography to the artist and filmmaker Isaac Julien, McCullin said: “I’ve always thought photography is not so much of an art form but a way of communicating and passing on information”.
The second exhibition, “Twelve” by Craigie Horsfield (b. 1949), is curated by the Wilson Centre for Photography. It brings together for the very first time a significant selection of Horsfield’s portraits. Described as intimate and sensitive, his work is an exploration of art and life, both the familiar and more memorable moments, whilst hiding behind a form of neutrality that is reinforced by his use of black and white. The experimental aspect of his body of work is apparent in his continuing use of different printing techniques. Films, drawings, and engravings also participate in this exploration of what he calls ‘slow time’: the past is part of the present; today holds the promise of future perspectives.
After these two great British names, the real discovery is surely to be found in the oeuvre of Russian photographer Sergey Chilikov (b. 1953), who is one of the most representative photographers of his generation. Starting at the end of the 1970s, he began to document the end of a regime in what was still the USSR, before continuing his work with the emergence of Boris Yeltsin’s Russia. The spokesman of a type of photography which was at the time subversive, his work has addressed social questions, without ever becoming overly preoccupied with the more sordid aspects of life. On the contrary, he employs a sense of derision and humour in colour photos that dress a warm and affectionate portrait of the Russian people, in spite of their harsh living conditions. Photoprovocations, as the exhibition is aptly titled, sums up in a word the tenor of his work and how he has never ceased to condemn the deterioration of Russian society, whilst glorifying its members.
