Phillip Lucas, Collector
‘I think I have a pronounced hunter-gatherer instinct’
portrait by Lucinda Douglas Menzies
When I visited Phillip Lucas in his 1725 house in Spitalfields that he has been renovating for more than a decade, we sat on two threadbare wing chairs, conversing over a sea of objects and piles of books which filled the room. In its profusion, the scene rivalled the opening sequence of Citizen Kane. Imagine my incredulity when Phillip confessed that he had just sent off most of the contents of his house to the sale room, testing my imagination to conceive how it had been before.
By profession, Phillip is a barrister but in his soul he is a collector. He bought his house to hold his collection of 1680-1730 furniture which he put in store ten years ago while he repaired the building, only to fill it from floor to ceiling with a whole new collection. I was quite overwhelmed when I considered that as well as the three hundred items Phillip sent for auction, he had enough the fill the house all over again in storage on top of what he already has in the house, which seemed more than sufficiently furnished to me.
Such is the true nature of a consummate collector like Phillip, who credibly rationalised his situation to me as an opportunity to edit and select his favourite items. While the afternoon flew away, I nodded my head in a mixture of sympathy, wonder and bewilderment as Phillip explained how it all came about.
“The first consciousness I had of the eighteenth century was through a school trip to 1 Royal Crescent in Bath and Wookey Hole Caves. The caves made no impression on me whatsoever but the drawing room at the Royal Crescent made a big impact and I bought a postcard of it which I still have.
I spent my teenage years going to antique fairs, buying eighteenth century tea caddies, and fell in with some antique dealers in Winchester. My parents were concerned that this might have an adverse effect. I spent my time hanging onto the coattails of these dealers, trying to sell them things and going around with them when they were buying.
At the age of five I had decided I wanted to be a lawyer and I could not be deflected from it, but the antique dealing side did not arise until the age of twelve. I realised then that the Law would have to take priority.
Around the age of sixteen, I grew very concerned about old buildings and I had a book of derelict houses in Scotland. So I spent a couple of summers going round these places, studying them and despairing for their future. Then I spent a summer visiting derelict buildings in Wales. It is disheartening to see what has happened to some of those places now. At this time, the idea crystallised that I what wanted to do was to save a Georgian house, restore it and formulate a collection as an experience for me, both to gather it and also live in those surroundings.
When I went to university, I had a modest grant which I spent on eighteenth century furniture and a blue sherpa van. While other students were going clubbing, I was driving to Shepton Mallet Fair and standing in the rain at five in the morning, buying and selling from the back of my van – at the same time as studying for a Law degree.
When I moved to London, I had a bedsit in Shepherds Bush and I started going to the big auctions and the antique shops. I was escorted around some of the most glamorous shops because I think they thought I was going to steal something. I must have looked about twelve even though I was in my early twenties.
I was seeing better quality objects in the London sale rooms. I ran out of space in my bedsit and the van became an overshoot for storage. I had a Georgian pianoforte in my bedsit at one point that took up most of the room. At Christies, South Kensington, I had a choice of either a painting by Wright of Derby or a portrait by Arthur Devis. So that was quite an exciting time.
My collecting started in the eighties with Neo-Classicism, inspired by the postcard of 1 Royal Crescent. I began with late eighteenth century tea caddies and I progressed to the early nineteenth century and Regency, which was very hot in the eighties. Then I discovered oak furniture and jumped back to early oak before moving through mahogany to walnut, where I settled. My current speciality is furniture between 1680 and 1730, the golden age of walnut. But I am still buying Regency things because I cannot resist them. I have had a recent revelation with Renaissance bronzes and I also collect early Georgian portraiture, particularly conversation pieces.
I am especially interested in domestic items that tell a story about an individual. I love personal inscriptions and things that might not have been intended to survive. Dennis Severs House is an inspiration to me and David Milne, the curator, introduced me to English Delft -which was an expensive day.
My collection pulls me in different directions and I can unexpectedly discover a new area t any point. For years I have been trying to understand early bronzes but you generally look at them behind glass in poorly-lit museum cabinets. I always wondered what all the fuss was about and it was only when I stumbled across two early bronzes recently that I could handle them and look at properly. It was a light bulb moment and now I am reading as many books as I can on the subject.
I think I have a pronounced hunter-gatherer instinct. As well as enjoying these objects themselves, understanding and handling them, I love the excitement of the chase and a new discovery. A lot of it is the thrill of finding things. That is enough. It does not matter to me, if after a while, I sell them on.”
Interior photographs copyright © Charlie Hopkinson
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Kurt Hutton, Photographer
Mark Richards explores the photography of Kurt Hutton
Men drinking in The Prospect of Whitby, 1942
1934 was a defining year for British photography. Hitler’s restrictions on press freedom led to an exodus of photographers from Germany and Austria, who moved to London. These included emerging talents such as Edith Tudor-Hart, Bill Brandt and Wolf Suschitzky, as well as established photographers such as Kurt Hübschmann (1893–1960) who was born in Strasbourg and emigrated to England in 1934. On arrival, he changed his name to Kurt Hutton and is remembered by this name as a legendary photojournalist whose work influenced the younger photographers who established themselves in the thirties, such as Bert Hardy.
In Germany, Kurt already had a well-established career as a photographer. At first, his parents decided he should be a solicitor and he was sent to study Law at Oxford in 1911, but he soon found that this dry subject did not appeal to his creative spirit. In 1914, the outbreak of the First World War put all thoughts of a legal career on hold and he volunteered as an officer in the German cavalry. During this time, he learned some basic techniques of photography and his talent became evident immediately. After the war, he practised as an amateur photographer until he decided to make a career of it, after taking lessons in portrait photography in 1923.
Kurt pursued an humane approach to taking pictures, always seeking to preserve the dignity of his subjects. This is the common quality in all his photography – complemented by an irreverent sense of humour. In 1923, Kurt used his newly-acquired skills to establish a photo studio in Berlin with his wife, which they ran together until 1929 when he began to produce work for Simon Guttmann’s Deutsche Photodienst agency. This led to him being talent-spotted by Stefan Lorant, Editor-in-Chief at the Münchner Illustrierte Presse (Munich Illustrated Press), who commissioned work. This association with Lorant proved to be a seminal point in Kurt’s photographic career.
Stefan Lorant was the major editor in Germany at that time. A Hungarian with one Jewish parent, Lorant was a larger-than-life character, strongly opinionated and with a vision that would shape photojournalism for a generation to come. As editor of one of the two leading illustrated magazines in Germany, Lorant had come to know Hitler in the late twenties when Hitler was editing a Nazi magazine in Munich. Lorant even briefly dated Geli Raubul who was Hitler’s half-niece, but his commitment to the freedom of the press and refusal to bow to Nazi influence led to his arrest on 14th March 1933.
The end of press freedom in Germany led to a golden age of photojournalism in England. Lorant was released in 1934, arriving in England in April with only a smattering of English and a plan to reinvent British photojournalism. He established major publications such as Weekly Illustrated, Lilliput and Picture Post, all of which would feature Kurt’s photography.
Kurt’s Jewish origins put him and his wife at great risk in Germany and, after travelling to London to photograph Wimbledon in 1934, he made the decision to follow Stefan Lorant and move to England. He was accompanied by another Munich photographer, Hans Baumann who, on arrival. changed his name to Felix Man and joined Kurt as one of Lorant’s photographers.
Kurt photographed all tiers of English society including the residents of the East End. He had a natural talent for portraiture and his photographs of Churchill, Hemingway, Hitchcock and Ingrid Bergman are instantly recognisable. Characteristically, he employed a natural style to capture the spirit of his subjects. His output was prolific and, at times, made up nearly half of the photographs in some editions of Picture Post. Notable series included his photographs of George Orwell’s Wigan in 1939 which provide a unique visual record of life in that town just before the war.
An acknowledgement of the quality of Kurt’s photography is that his work was used as the standard against which other photographers were measured when learning their trade. Grace Robertson, an immensely talented photo-journalist in the fifties, recalled her work being thrown on the ground by her teacher who shouted “Kurt Hutton would never have taken pictures like these!”
The essence of Lorant’s vision for Picture Post was reflected Kurt Hutton’s approach to photography. It can be summed up in an editorial response to criticism over the inclusion of too many ‘ordinary people’ in the images appearing in the magazine. The response, which was probably written by Stefan Lorant read, “Picture Post firmly believes in the ordinary man and woman, thinks they have had no fair share in picture journalism, believes their faces are more striking, their lives and doings more full of interest than those of the people whose faces and activities cram the ordinary picture papers”
This statement explains why so many series of photographs about everyday life were included in Weekly Illustrated, Lilliput and Picture Post during the thirties and forties, when other publications focussed on celebrities, politicians and royalty.
For a time, Picture Post with Kurt Hutton and Felix Man as its leading photographers could do no wrong, but Stefan Lorant had not taken into account the impact of the impending war on his German refugee staff. In advance of the invasion of Poland, there was a fear that Britain would do a deal with Hitler and this would involve ‘insurgents’ such as Lorant and Hutton being sent back to Germany to certain death. Although this never came to pass, some emigrated to America, including Stefan Lorant who sailed for New York on board the Brittanic in July 1940, after having his freedom in Britain severely restricted.
Between September 1939 and April 1940, panic set in amongst some of the refugee photographers who were opposed to Hitler or had been forced to flee Germany due to their race, religion or political beliefs. A suspicion of all things German took hold of the public and, under special measures, ‘enemy aliens’ were interned. Amongst these were Kurt Hutton and Felix Man, whose cameras were confiscated when they were sent to the Isle of Man in 1939. It robbed Picture Post of its most experienced photographers. After it lost its editor and when all of its refugee photographers and journalists were interned, the magazine was down to only five members of staff.
Kurt Hutton remained in custody on the Isle of Man until 1941. His absence, along with the absence of the other leading lights in photojournalism at the time, offered a golden opportunity for new British photographers such as Bert Hardy, who stepped up to fill the gap, becoming the new lead photographer for Picture Post. Yet, even while interned on the Isle of Man, Kurt managed to get his hands on a camera and photographed holidaymakers there. He possessed an energy that was not be easily suppressed and, on his release in late 1941, he made his way back to London to start again.
The strength of Kurt’s work is immediately apparent when examining his archive. The wild abandon seen in one of his most well-known photographs of young women on a rollercoaster in 1938, as well as the risqué nature of the shot, typifies the unforced nature of his work. Unlike Bill Brandt, Kurt was drawn to employing what were known at the time as ‘miniature’ cameras – those using the relatively new 35mm format such as the Leica III. These were highly portable, versatile cameras and allowed for contact prints, which assisted editorial decisions. However, the cameras were mocked by ‘serious’ photographers who thought they were no better than toys, although the quality of Hutton’s work, and that of others who adopted the Leica, proves them wrong.
Kurt’s photography is not ‘street photography’ like that of Wolf Suschitzky or Henri Cartier-Bresson, yet neither is it in the poetic style of Bill Brandt and it is unlikely that Kurt considered his photographs to be Art. As social documentary, his work is a powerful record of everyday life during a period of profound social disruption. His photographs were produced in the knowledge that they would be coupled with text, but their quality was such they required no further explanation.
Kurt Hutton retired to Aldeburgh and produced a final photo series on Benjamin Britten who became a friend. It is a revealing series into the private life of this composer and a fitting finale to an extraordinary career of a pioneering photographer who is now mostly forgotten.
‘A large family’ London, 1945
Street artist David Burton working in Swiss Cottage, February 1945
Commissionaire talking to his dachshund in Piccadilly, 1938
Roasted chestnut seller in Piccadilly Circus, 1938
Young women on a rollercoaster, Southend Fair, 1938
Unemployed man with dog from The Wigan of George Orwell, 1939
Life in a back alley, from The Wigan of George Orwell, 1939
Father with children, from The Wigan of George Orwell, 1939
Holidaymakers relaxing on a bench in Douglas, Isle of Man, 1939
Winston Churchill, 1939
Ingrid Bergman and Alfred Hitchcock, 1948
Entrance to Old Buildings and Old Square, leading into Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 1951
Brokers at the London Stock Exchange in Throgmorton Street, November 1951
Benjamin Britten in his studio at The Red House, Aldeburgh 1958
Audience at a Britten performance, Aldeburgh Festival 1949
Picture Post photographers Kurt Hutton (left) and Bert Hardy in 1950
Photographs copyright © Estate of Kurt Hutton
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Visit Nicholas Culpeper’s Spitalfields
Ragwort in Hanbury St
(The concoction of the herb is good to wash the mouth, and also against the quinsy and the king’s evil)
Taking the opportunity to view the plaque upon the hairdresser at the corner of Puma Court and Commercial St, commemorating where Nicholas Culpeper lived and wrote The English Herbal, the celebrated seventeenth century Herbalist returned to his old neighbourhood for a visit and I was designated to be his guide.
Naturally, he was a little disoriented by the changes that time has wrought to Red Lion Fields where he once cultivated herbs and gathered wild plants for his remedies. Disinterested in new developments, instead he implored me to show him what wild plants were left and thus we set out together upon a strange quest, seeking weeds that have survived the urbanisation. You might say we were searching for the fields in Spitalfields since these were plants that were here before everything else.
Let me admit, I did feel a responsibility not to disappoint the old man, as we searched the barren streets around his former garden. But I discovered he was more astonished that anything at all had survived and thus I photographed the hardy specimens we found as a record, published below with Culpeper’s own annotations.
Honeysuckle in Buxton St (I know of no better cure for asthma than this, besides it takes away the evil of the spleen, provokes urine, procures speedy delivery of women in travail, helps cramps, convulsions and palsies and whatsoever griefs come of cold or stopping.)
Dandelion in Fournier St (Vulgarly called Piss-a-beds, very effective for obstructions of the liver, gall and spleen, powerful cleans imposthumes. Effectual to drink in pestilential fevers and to wash the sores. The juice is good to be applied to freckles, pimples and spots.)
Campion in Bishop’s Sq (Purges the body of choleric humours and helps those that are stung by Scorpions and other venomous beasts and may be as effectual for the plague.)
Pellitory of the Wall in Hanbury St (For an old or dry cough, the shortness of breath, and wheezing in the throat. Wonderfully helps stoppings of the urine.)
Herb Robert in Folgate St (Commended not only against the stone, but to stay blood, where or howsoever flowing, and it speedily heals all green wounds and is effectual in old ulcers in the privy parts.)
Sow Thistle in Princelet St (Stops fluxes, bleeding, takes away cold swellings and eases the pains of the teeth)
Groundsel off Brick Lane (Represses the heat caused by motions of the internal parts in purges and vomits, expels gravel in the veins or kidneys, helps also against the sciatica, griping of the belly, the colic, defects of the liver and provokes women’s courses.)
Ferns and Campanula and in Elder St (Ferns eaten purge the body of choleric and waterish humours that trouble the stomach. The smoke thereof drives away serpents, gnats and other noisome creatures which in fenny countries do trouble and molest people lying their beds.)
Sow Thistle and Herb Robert in Elder St
Yellow Wood Sorrel and Sow Thistle in Puma Court (The roots of Sorrel are held to be profitable against the jaundice.)
Comfrey in Code St (Helps those that spit blood or make a bloody urine, being outwardly applied is specially good for ruptures and broken bones, and to be applied to women’s breasts that grow sore by the abundance of milk coming into them.)
Sow Thistle in Fournier St
Field Poppy in Allen Gardens (A syrup is given with very good effect to those that have the pleurisy and is effectual in hot agues, frenzies and other inflammations either inward or outward.)
Fleabane at Victoria Cottages (Very good to heal the nipples and sore breasts of women.)
Sage and Wild Strawberries in Commercial St (The juice of Sage drank hath been of good use at time of plagues and it is commended against the stitch and pains coming of wind. Strawberries are excellent to cool the liver, the blood and the spleen, or an hot choleric stomach, to refresh and comfort the fainting spirits and quench thirst.)
Hairy Bittercress in Fournier St (Powerful against the scurvy and to cleanse the blood and humours, very good for those that are dull or drowsy.)
Oxe Eye Daisies in Allen Gardens (The leaves bruised and applied reduce swellings, and a decoction thereof, with wall-wort and agrimony, and places fomented or bathed therewith warm, giveth great ease in palsy, sciatica or gout. An ointment made thereof heals all wounds that have inflammation about them.)
Herb Robert in Fournier St
Camomile in Commercial St (Profitable for all sorts of agues, melancholy and inflammation of the bowels, takes away weariness, eases pains, comforts the sinews, and mollifies all swellings.)
Unidentified herb in Commercial St
Buddleia in Toynbee St (Aids in the treatment of gonorrhea, hepatitis and hernia by reducing the fragility of skin and small intestine’s blood vessel.)
Hedge Mustard in Fleur de Lys St (Good for all diseases of the chest and lungs, hoarseness of voice, and for all other coughs, wheezing and shortness of breath.)
Buttercup at Spitalfields City Farm (A tincture with spirit of wine will cure shingles very expeditiously, both the outbreak of small watery pimples clustered together at the side, and the accompanying sharp pains between the ribs. Also this tincture will promptly relieve neuralgic side ache, and pleurisy which is of a passive sort.)
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David Johnson’s East End
Liverpool St Station
Shall we take a tour around the East End in the early eighties in the company of David Johnson, courtesy of his wonderful Kodachrome images?
“My interest in London’s history goes back to the late sixties, when as a teenager I would take the train from Oxford and then, using a Red Bus Rover ticket and a copy of Geoffrey Fletcher’s The London Nobody Knows, discover some of the most interesting and off-beat parts of the capital. In 1977, seeking a job after graduating and with a strong interest in photography, I ended up in London selling cameras in Tottenham Court Rd. I first explored the old wharves and docklands before they disappeared and then, after moving to Dalston, the East End. Derelict buildings, faded signs, architecture on a human scale are all things which I liked to photograph then – and still do today.”
David Johnson
Liverpool St Station
Liverpool St Station
Liverpool St Station
Artillery Lane
Brushfield St
Christ Church Spitalfields
Fashion St
Spitalfields barber
Hanbury St
Brick Lane
Homeless men in Spitalfields
The City from Spitalfields
Whitechapel Market
Wapping Police Station
Wapping
St Paul’s School, Wellclose Sq
Wapping High St
River Plate Wharf
Wapping
Wapping Pier Head
The Gun, Isle of Dogs
The Black Horse, Limehouse
Grove Place, Hackney
Empress Coaches, Hackney
Regent’s Canal
Cat & Mutton Bridge
Broadway Market
Broadway Market
George Tallet, Fishmonger, Hackney
Carr’s Pet Stores, Hackney
Trederwen Rd, Hackney
Photographs copyright © David Johnson
The Gentle Author’s Tour Of Whitechapel
Horace Warner’s Spitalfields Nippers at the opening of the Whitechapel Gallery
I am delighted to announce The Gentle Author’s Tour of Whitechapel commissioned by the Whitechapel Gallery as part of the Gallery’s Backyard Biennial.
Join me for a two-hour walking tour of sightseeing and storytelling along the Whitechapel Road, culminating in tea and freshly baked cakes at the Whitechapel Gallery.
Once regarded as the ‘back entrance to London’, Whitechapel has always been a place of transience. But in recent centuries it has become enriched by multiple waves of immigration, delivering the vital cultural life of Whitechapel today.
Visit the site of London’s first purpose built theatre from 1567, learn about the White Raven which served as a refuge for ‘black poor’ in the 18th century, wonder at the Whitechapel Bell Foundry founded in 1570, explore the Pavilion Theatre and the Whitechapel Mount, and discover where Joseph Merrick known as the ‘Elephant Man’ was displayed before he was rescued by surgeon Frederick Treves of the London Hospital.
Burne-Jones’ works in the East End by Horace Warner, 1901
Art and Life by Horace Warner, 1901
Tired of Art by Horace Warner, 1901
On The Semiquincentennial
Click here to book for the Gentle Author’s Tours
On the semiquincentennial, as we contemplate the disturbing irony of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in which the American colonies set out to rid themselves of the tyranny of monarchs, readers may be curious to know that the Declaration in it’s first printed form (known as the Dunlap Broadside) was set in type imported from the Caslon letter foundry in Chiswell St in the City of London.
Caslon’s four lines pica of 1766 was used for the word ‘DECLARATION’
Caslon’s English Roman was used for the body type
The Caslon letter foundry in Chiswell St
Let us also remember the words of John Adams, writing against the injustice of punitive taxes imposed by the British government upon the American colonies. Such was the reputation of Spitalfields for Radicalism at that time.
“I won’t buy one shilling worth of anything that comes from Old England, till the Stamp Act is appealed, nor shall my sons and daughters; I’d rather the Spittlefield weavers should pull down all the houses in Old England, and knock the brains out of all the wicked great men there, than this country should lose their liberty.”
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The Last Days Of London
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After he photographed the end of the trams in 1952 at the age of twelve, photographer Colin O’Brien became fascinated by recording the ‘last days’ of vanishing aspects of London life.
Thames Embankment, 1952 “When I was twelve, the trams stopped running forever so I took this picture with my box camera while the driver posed for me. I loved going out with my dad on Sunday mornings for a ride through the Kingsway Tunnel and out on to the Embankment. It was even more exciting if we managed to get the front seat on the top deck where I could imagine I was driving the tram.”
Skinner St, Clerkenwell, 1952 “Long since demolished, the Rio Cinema was where we used to go as kids and watch films over and over again until we got bored. Westerns were my favourite and we all loved to mimic the actors and shout and clap at inappropriate moments”
Clerkenwell Rd, 1970s “After more than a century of use by hundreds of families, Victoria Dwellings – once my home – was demolished and I moved with my family to a flat on the twenty-third floor of the newly built Michael Cliffe House on the other side of Clerkenwell”
Covent Garden, 1973 “The fruit and vegetable market moved to the New Covent Garden Market between Vauxhall and Battersea in 1974”
Hackney, early 1980s “One of the last rag and bone men plying his trade by going door-to-door, picking up metal and scrap”
Regent’s Canal, Bethnal Green, 1987 “George Trewby’s magnificent gasometer constructed for the Gas Light and Coke Company in 1889 towers over the frozen canal”
Nightingale Estate, Hackney Downs, 1999 “Hackney Council decided that many of their high-rise blocks were failures as housing and decided to blow them up. Of the six towers that made up the estate, five were demolished. Since 2003, low-rise buildings have been constructed where the blocks once stood.”
Long Acre, Covent Garden, 1986 “The building was being demolished by a crane swinging an iron ball while two men stood on top of the ruin and finished the job with sledgehammers. There must be an easier way to earn a living”
The Griffin, Shoreditch, 30th June 2007 “Three smokers enjoy their last cigarettes on the final day of legal smoking in public places”
Highbury Corner, 7th May 2006 “Three men sit comatose after the last football match at Highbury Stadium before Arsenal moved to the new Emirates Stadium in Holloway Rd”
Chatsworth Rd, Hackney, 2010 “Suleyman bought this shoe repair shop in 1967, when it was like a time-capsule full of old leather sewing machines and calendars from the 1950s. Even pairs of shoes that were repaired more than ten years ago but never claimed by their owners were still lying around. He got up at 4am every morning and opened the shop between 7am and 4pm, until it closed in 2010.”
Mare St, Hackney, 2009 “I always had a soft spot for Woolworths. The first shop opened on the 6th November 1909 and I took this photograph on 6th January 2009, the last day of trading”
Chatsworth Rd, Hackney, 2008 “A friend took me for a meal one Saturday morning at Jim’s Cafe and it was the best breakfast I had eaten in a long time. I asked Dave, the proprietor, if I could take some pictures and I did shots of him standing in the doorway. When I returned about a month later with the prints, Dave’s wife told me he had died and the cafe closed soon after.”
Chatsworth Rd, Hackney, 2010 “Steve sits on his stock of tyres in the shop that he and his family ran for more than fifty years. It smelled of rubber and the Michelin man in the window was covered in dust. The shop closed on 2nd October 2010, shortly after I took this photograph.”
Clapton Pond, Hackney, 2005 “A group pose proudly to have their picture taken on the last day of the Routemaster buses running on the 38 route, from Clapton Pond to Victoria Station”
Clerkenwell Fire Station, Rosebery Avenue, 2014 “When Clerkenwell Fire Station closed in January 2014 after 142 years, I photographed the fire-fighters on their last day of service at Britain’s oldest operating fire station.”
Photographs copyright © Estate of Colin O’Brien
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