Last weekend the Sunday Telegraph published a series of dodgy ‘glamour’ photos allegedly of former One Nation leader and perennial election candidate, Pauline Hanson, taken when Pauline was a teenager in the mid 1970′s.

First, a disclaimer: I’ve met Pauline, photographed her, and on a personal level found her genuine and generous. But her politics are naïve and simplistic which has always made her an easy target.

It has to be said the photos are not particularly racy.

Nevertheless, and whether or not it is Pauline Hanson (and a growing consensus suggests that it is not), it’s a low act: their publication designed to demean and humiliate.

Women continue to struggle to be taken seriously in business and politics especially, but it seems unfortunately misogeny is never too far below the surface.

There can be no other explanation: Its hard to imagine a man being so castigated for such a trivial teenage indiscretion?

And we are not talking here about discovering a secret past as a porn star. Presumably, these photos were taken for private consumption, with the understanding and trust which that entails.

Two days after publication and the photographs’ author, a Mr Jack Johnson, apparently is not so sure if the photos are of Pauline after all: cancer and chemotherapy it seems have befuddled his memory.

Not to mention his morals.

As for their publication, other than salaciousness, what was the public interest in doing so?

(And if it is not Pauline Hanson, it is still some poor woman – more likely that not now married with children – who has been publicly and unneccessarily shamed).

I heard on TV that the Sunday Telegraph editor has bet his job that the photographs are genuine.

We’ll see.

Pauline Hanson ©Richard Whitfield 2009

Outside, it’s unusually grey and drizzly: a symptom of Cyclone Hamish further up the Queensland coast.

So, my shoot for today has been postponed. Instead, I’ve been idly surfing the net, avoiding the receipts and paperwork piled on the other side of my desk.

Via Scott Kelby’s blog, I came across the website of Tim Mantoani. Tim’s is a name I am familiar with as a first-class commercial photographer. But what caught my eye is his ongoing project Behind Photographs: Tim’s portrait project documenting the faces behind many of photography’s iconic images.

If you have any interest in photography, there are many names – or at least images – you will be familiar with: Douglas Kirkland’s evening with Marilyn Monroe, Elliot Erwitt’s whimsical dogs, Jeff Widener’s Tiananmen Square protester, Mary Ellen Mark’s elephant trainer and Nick Utz’s Napalm attack to name a very few.

Unlike the freedom that digital has given us, these are all photographers who were coralled by the discipline of film: at best 36 frames per roll, but often, working with larger formats, much less. Film and processing was a constant and escalating cost which demanded restraint.

The wonderfully eccentric English portrait photographer, Norman Parkinson told a story in his biography Lifework, of working for British Vogue in the early 1940′s: commissioned to shoot three fashion spreads, he was allowed only four sheets of film – the fourth to be used ‘only if the girl moves’!

In a sense, Tim has imposed upon himself an even greater discipline: he has created all the portraits using a 20 by 24 inch polaroid view camera. Cumbersome, slow and demanding exceptional technique, there were, I believe, only six ever made.

Further, the continuing availability of the large-format film is uncertain, so every exposure demands a decisiveness at odds with the machine-gun thrill of our digital age.

The pay off, of course, is a quality of image of unimaginable beauty.

But the real beauty is in the subject matter. These old masters – like the Polaroid film itself – are a dying breed. Not necessarily in the physical sense, but in their significance.

There is a power, simplicity and honesty in their photographs that digital, with its ubiquity and ease of manipulation has dissipated.

Their vision was as much informed by the mastery of their craft and the discipline of their medium as by their cultural mores. Digital has freed us from much of this and democratised the image-making process.

On the whole, this has to be applauded. Yet, it remains to be seen if this freedom and ease equates to better and more significant images.

Or simply a lot more ordinary ones.

Brisbane was hicksville, unsophisticated, a big country town, the government and police corrupt, the people redknecks and the climate stultifying.

And it seems the view from the south hasn’t improved much. American author, Augusten Burroughs writing about Brisbane in today’s Weekend Australian Magazine:

Ask anyone from Melbourne or Sydney, “So, what’s the deal with Brisbane?” and they will roll their eyes. They will say, “It’s, oh, you know,” and they will flutter their hands as if trying to dry nail polish. “It’s Brisbane.”

Australians don’t like to be unkind. But if you back them against the wall or get them really drunk, they’ll eventually snap.

“OK, OK, Brisbane is kind of like our Malibu. It’s a rather … vapid place.”

Yes, its true, that Brisbane had been a slow developer (no sewerage system until the 1960′s!) and its not so distant political past is chequered and colourful.

But vapid? The Brisbane that attracted us 12 years ago had a sleepy romance – the tin and timber houses with their wide verandas, the purple-blossomed jacaranda trees that bloom throughout the city in springtime and the late afternoon tropical storms that roll through in the summertime.

After the brash, hard-edge of big city life in Sydney and Hong Kong, Brisbane was friendly, slow paced and laid back.

But it also felt like a city bristling with opportunity and optimism: it felt young and vibrant and excited by possibility.

And maybe now, Brisbane has fulfilled that promise whilst retaining its easy laid-back charm. Augusten Burroughs again:

Beneath these awnings: casual cafes, filled with trim, athletic men and women eating small portions of organic Spanish almonds and gluten-free bread. Many of the women wore their lustrous hair long…. the men smiled and in their fitted T-shirts and artfully tousled hair looked comfortably bisexual. The casual observer could mistake such a scene for LA. But here’s the difference: this wasn’t LA. Geographically speaking, this was the middle of f..king nowhere.

What made these thin, athletic lifestyle-seekers even more repugnant is that they were almost universally gregarious and warm; people you would definitely want to have as close friends, if not bedmates….These people ­sickened me. I wanted to be them, I wanted them to love me, I wanted to hang myself.

Ultimately I discovered that Brisbane is not vapid in the least. It’s just very beautiful. And that is sometimes very difficult to tolerate. Especially in a family member.

Brisbane is Cindy Crawford sitting on the porch reading a book while plump older sister Sydney tap-dances on the sidewalk in a leotard that’s too tight, hoping a talent agent drives by. Melbourne is the moody, black-haired sister lurking behind the tree with her volume of Sylvia Plath poems, making smartarse notes in her notebook and unable to decide which is worse: beauty or ambition.

You can read the whole article here.

Viva Bris Vegas!

Brisbane Square for Suncorp ©Richard Whitfield 2009

Although the media firestorm that engulfed him and his work last year has long since moved on, the most (perhaps only) intelligent piece I read at the time on the whole saga was a short blog by magazine art director (and occasional client of mine) Sam Wright.

You can read it here.

There’s nothing to add really – except, Sam, please blog more regularly.

Although most of the artists – all Australian -  are well established, I must admit I was unfamiliar with most of them.

No Arkley’s, Olsen’s, Tucker’s Smart’s or Nolan’s here – because this is of course an exhibition of contemporary  – not modern – Australian art.

It’s a lot of fun.

And part of that fun for me was viewing the work without the social, cultural or historical prejudices that are impossible to ignore when viewing the work of more familiar names (Bill Henson anyone?).

Some reviewers have criticised much of the work as superficial, but I didn’t get that feeling: by definition, the artists’ themes are positive, but there’s plenty here to engage and challenge.

A couple of standouts for me:  Robert Owen’s vast colour field painting, where stripes of colour monitor Owen’s moods  – each bar representing a 24 hour period.

And Patricia Piccinini’s sculptures, Nest + Stags: a positive  post-apocalyptic future where, with stylish 1960′s mod sensibility, Bambi meets the Terminator.

Jeff Koons eat your heart out!

I only was only given one afternoon for the shoot and it was not without its challenges – restrictions on using flash, a manic schedule and simply not enough time.

Normally, that would have been maddeningly frustrating (which it was for about the first five minutes), but the whole afternoon was so absorbing I’d have been happy if I was only allowed a camera phone!

The story’s just been published by Virgin Voyeur.

You can view a lot more of the images on my website.

Cirque du Soleil ©Richard Whitfield 2009

We didn’t know whether to be true-blue Aussies and fire up the barbie or, for nostalgia’s sake, visit Chinatown for yum cha.

In the end nostalgia won and we wound up at King of Kings in the heart of the Valley – as an authentic Cantonese dining experience as you can have, short of a Haiphong Road Dai Pai Dong.

As always, King of Kings was boisterously busy; as you’d expect from a great Cantonese restaurant in the heart of a Chinatown.

Seated, as we were, adjacent the chaotically frenetic washing-up area only made it feel all the more genuine.

Kung Hei Fat Choi!

Chinatown, San Francisco ©Richard Whitfield 2009

Challenging in that Kander has appropriated the affectations of the formal corporate portrait – the clean background, high-key lighting and formality of  pose – yet these portraits do not read clearly as studies of power and success as might be expected.

The supporting editorial (well worth reading) shows that Kander and the New York Times photo-editorial team’s approach was not only intended, but borrows and builds on an existing photographic narrative to deliberately confront both subject and viewer.

These portraits are not designed as a celebration of success and power – but rather a contemplation on uncertainty and the unknown.

Hence, to appear strong and confident is to invite hubris, too polished is to suggest superficiality, to forthright is to risk the condemnation of history.

So instead, Obama’s People, for the most part are awkward, unsure or disconnected from the viewer: uncertain of how history will judge them.

Kandar has revealed their dubiety. Only time can provide their qualification.

Which is why, even in this incredibly over-mediated age in which we live, photography – at its most fundamental – still remains an incredibly powerful and insightful cultural authority.

He lives just up the road from me, but given how little time an international cricketer spends at home, I’ve only had the opportunity to shoot him on a couple of occasions.

Most recently was last November: a cover portrait of Matthew with his beautiful wife Kellie for Sunday Life.

I’ll miss seeing Matthew as part of the Australian cricket team, not only because he was a fierce competitor, but more importantly because he is a true gentleman.

On both the occasions that I have photographed him he was polite, professional and willing to give his full attention.

Of course, that is nothing less than you should expect, but it’s not always the case – sportspeople, in my experience, can be prone to an over-inflated sense of their own importance.

I’ve always put this down to the focus, self-sacrifice and determination required to succeed at the highest level.

But that doesn’t explain why it’s a trait you very rarely find in the true champions. Only the wannabees, nearlys and neverwills.

Matthew, you are a true Champion.

Matthew + Kellie Hayden ©Richard Whitfield 2008

Cleverly written, sublimely cast (just how good is the girfriend?) and beautifully understated direction.

I wish I’d done them.

Check them out: