Peter Peryer
the photograph as a portrait of the self
PETER PERYER, whose photographs were recently given international recognition by the inclusion of a Portfolio of his work in the 1978 Creative Camera Yearbook, has published frequently over the past few years in Photo Forum, and brought out two limited edition portfolios, Gone Home and Mars Hotel; as well as having shown in one-man exhibitions at Snaps Gallery and The Peter Webb Galleries in 1976; at The Dowse Gallery, Lower Hutt, in 1977; and in such group shows as The Active Eye, the Manawatu Art Gallery, 1975. His work will be seen in a three-man exhibition at New Zealand House, London, in the middle of this year.
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| PETER PERYER, Self Portrait, 1977 |
The following informal conversation with the editors of Art New Zealand deals with Peter Peryer's approach to his photography.
How do you see photography as an art in relation to other visual arts - to
painting for instance. Many people think of a painter as someone who creates an
image, who invents an image, as contrasted with the photographer, who seems to
find his motif, in away, ready-made, already there?
The 'invention' of an image is, in fact, something that is particularly
important in my work - especially in my more recent work. I may take a long time
in setting up an image. last year I spent a few days on the set while they were
filming Sleeping Dogs and I was struck by the extent to which film-makers
go to set up a take. It made me realise how cautious I was as a photographer.
Incidentally, since then, several people have said that my work looks like
stills from a movie.
So you approach your subject with a lot of caution - you think about it
for a long time before you take the shot?
Yes. With my portraits I usually spend a long time thinking about the
clothes I want worn, the backgrounds, where I want the subject to stand. In the
last few months all of my work has been portraits.
Let's talk about your portraits then. Are they generally of someone you
know. quite well-like those of your wife Erika
No. Not always. On several occasions they have been people I have seen
around the city. With Christine for instance [illustrated below].She was
not someone I had known. In general I would make the approach - and then spend a
lot of time planning the picture. I think there is amongst photographers a kind
of resistance to the idea of photographs being premeditated. My photographs are
not spontaneous. They're not 'snaps'. They're not 'moments'.
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PETER PERYER Christine Mathieson 1977 |
Can you tell us about any particular photographs that exemplify this
studied quality?
Well, take the recent self-portrait of me holding a rooster. That picture
had been on my mind I suppose for two or three months. I had to find the
rooster; I had to find the right wall, I had to find the right clothes... With
the colour polaroid of me holding a fish - the one that was in the Dowse Gallery
exhibition took days to work it out: but Anne Noble and I got the picture in the
first shot. What this means, too, in practical terms is that I photograph very
little. I'm thinking about photographs all the time of course.
It has been mentioned in several places that some of your best images have
been made with a toy camera - a camera made in Hong Kong. What led you to use
this, and how did the experience of using it work out in practice?
One advantage of using this camera, the 'Diana' camera, strangely enough,
was that it had very few controls. There was no way in which I could alter the
shutter speed. There was no way in which I could alter the aperture. All I could
adjust (in a very primitive way) was the focussing. And I found it was quite
different to photograph and be free from all those controls... it seemed to help
me to loosen up.
Did it lead you towards any particular subjects?
Yes. Because it tends to give a rather dark, sombre sort of image, I chose
subjects which really were appropriate to it. It gives a very ill-defined image
too: so that the whole thing becomes impressionistic. But I'm not really quite
sure whether I chose those particular subjects because I had that camera, or
whether I chose the camera because I was feeling like taking pictures of that
sort at the time. The sixteen images making up the portfolios of Mars Hotel
and Gone Home came out of it and they were taken over a period of two or
three weeks. A characteristic of the camera is that it tends to produce a
darkening away toward the edges, putting the light in the centre of the picture.
I haven't used that camera now for about fifteen months. Curiously though, my
recent pictures, which have been taken with a very expensive Rollei flex, often
seem to have a similar picture quality.
Can you describe the process that leads you to your subject-matter?
I'm really not sure what's going on as far as my subject-matter is
concerned. It's an exploration of some kind. It's the teasing out of certain
issues that recur in my work. It doesn't happen at a conscious level. They are
in a sense like something remembered. It's a curious thing that my recent
pictures often don't look like New Zealand, 1978. They look as if they have been
taken in another country at another time.
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PETER PERYER, Self Portrait, 1977 |
Are you consciously influenced by other photographers?
No, not consciously. I'm as likely to be influenced by painters as by
photographers. For example, currently I have strong feelings of affinity with
the paintings of Lucien Freud. Maybe it is more a question of affinities than of
influences. I admire Colin McCahon's work enormously. I was really encouraged
when Peter McLeavey, his dealer, bought my portfolio Mars Hotel and gave
it to McCahon as a present. There are two or three New Zealand photographers who
I particularly admire - Richard Collins for instance.
You don't tend to approach the subject because it has any specific
'literary' or social connotations?
No. There's no message. All my photography is a kind of self exploration.
But that doesn't mean to say that all my pictures are necessarily 'self
portraits'. On one hand they are, certainly: but the pictures I take of people
still do contain some truth about them. A truth, perhaps, with which I empathise.
People sometimes say about my works that they are all basically 'self
portraits'. But I believe that's only half-true. My photographs may be portraits
of my own self - or of another self.
How did you begin in photography? How did you come to choose it as a
medium of self-expression or self-knowledge?
I had been surrounded by photographs all my life. My father always had a
dark room. The unfortunate thing was: he was very much into the Camera Club
movement. I had never seen a photograph that really excited me until about three
or four years ago. And that was one by Edward Weston, Civil Defence 1942
that was shown to me by John Turner. I think the key problem with photography in
New Zealand in the past has been our lack of access to good photographs. Over
the last three or four years things have really improved.
This has largely been the result of the work done by John Turner - the
photographic exhibitions, Photo Forum, and so on?
Oh yes, I think John Turner has done it almost single-handed.
When we were talking earlier on about what new work you had done since
the Dowse Gallery exhibition you seemed to be having quite strong reactions to
the question. Why was that?
Just because the technique of photography appears simple, people seem to
think that one should be able to produce a greater number of good works. I get
this all the time. I think the fact is that no matter what medium one is working
in, the gestation period between important works is going to be the same. In two
months I have only produced one picture I'm really satisfied with.
Do you have any special views about exhibitions of photography in general?
How important do you think it is to have exhibitions of photography?
Photographs have the ability to be reproduced ad infinitum with no
loss of quality. This seems to me to be an enormous advantage that photography
has over other media. Photographers don't need exhibitions to the same degree as
do painters and sculptors for instance. It seems to me that as photographers we
still have to learn how to take full advantage of this strength.
What do you feel are the implications of being a photographer in New
Zealand - an artist in New Zealand?
As a New Zealander I find it hard to believe that I can do anything
important on a world scale. Quite unconsciously I've picked up a strong feeling
of racial inferiority. Sometimes I have to give myself a lot of reassurance that
working as an artist is a worthwhile way to spend one's life. And as a
photographer I have at times found it painful to know that many people don't
look upon photography as having a legitimate place in the art world. Fortunately
this attitude is in its dying phases.