Mark Waddington

Tag: leeds-photographic-society

  • Reflections after the Leeds Photographic Society exhibition.

    Reflections after the Leeds Photographic Society exhibition.

    Photo: 90 years of memories by Tamsin Spain

    I visited an exhibition by the Leeds Photographic Society at Salts Mill over the weekend, and it was a real pleasure to see such a wide variety of photographs on display. By chance, some of the images were ones I had previously judged in competitions at the society, which made it especially rewarding to encounter them again in this new context.

    The exhibition prompted me to reflect on just how broad and fascinating photography really is. There is no single genre, style, or approach that defines it. Photography spans many aspects of life and serves countless purposes. It’s tempting to try to define photography narrowly, but doing so is a bit like trying to define writing as only “literature.” Writing ranges from the works of William Shakespeare to something as simple as a shopping list for a trip to Tesco. Photography, like writing, encompasses a vast spectrum—some work is highly creative, while other work is purely practical.

    Photography can be deeply functional, such as a medical professional taking an X-ray, or personal, like a parent capturing a moment on the beach. At the same time, it can reach extraordinary artistic heights in the hands of photographers such as Ansel Adams, (who promoted emotional responses above techical excellence).

    However, like many art forms—painting in particular—history has a tendency to decide what is considered “good” and what is not. Art history has traditionally elevated certain genres over others; for example, grand historical painting was often valued more highly than landscapes or still life. Similarly, the photographers who are remembered tend to be those who were well documented, widely exhibited, and effectively promoted.

    Yet creativity is alive and thriving everywhere. There may well be hidden Michelangelos and Ansel Adamses working quietly today, unrecognised. Our perception of greatness is shaped by cultural expectations and, often, by subtle publicity machines that influence what we see and value. Those who become famous have usually succeeded not only through talent, but also in ensuring their work is visible and celebrated.

    In reality, creativity is deeply subjective. Appreciating great photography is not just the role of critics, galleries, or competitions—it belongs to all of us. We can choose to seek out meaningful work beyond the usual venues: outside galleries, beyond magazines, and away from competitions. There is something special about discovering the work of modest, dedicated individuals creating quietly in their own spaces. The Royal Photographic Society has a campaign slogan “photography for all”, perhaps that idea is as much about appreciating photography as it is about the actual making of images?

    This leads me to a simple thought: perhaps modesty is one of the most valuable qualities in creative work. Instead of gravitating only towards heavily promoted images, we might pause to appreciate creativity wherever we find it. By doing so, we step away from the influence of marketing and branding, and reconnect with the genuine act of creation.

    Let’s not be sniffy about snapshots. Even the most casual photograph can be a meaningful piece of creativity—a small window into someone’s life, passions, and perspective. These images are rarely created to win awards or build reputations; they are simply expressions of the joy of living and observing the world. Life, after all, is worth capturing.

    So my appeal is this: let’s try to de-categorise photography. Let’s be cautious about awarding value only to what is widely promoted or formally recognised. Instead, let’s respect and encourage the small, sincere efforts of people developing their creativity.

    This is where community groups like the Leeds Photographic Society play such an important role. They provide a local space where ordinary people can nurture creativity, curiosity, and a sense of wonder through photography.

    So, thank you to the Leeds Photographic Society for putting on such an inspiring exhibition.

    (Photo credit: 90 years of memories by Tamsin Spain)

  • Story, History, and Playing with What’s Next

    Story, History, and Playing with What’s Next

    I had the pleasure of judging two print competitions at the Leeds Photographic Society last night. I loved the buzz of enthusiasm and friendliness. What also struck me wasn’t just the quality of the work, but the depth of the club’s history.

    Founded in 1852, it’s widely regarded as the oldest photographic society in the world — even older than the Royal Photographic Society. That’s quite something in a medium that has changed as dramatically as photography.

    I was introduced to some of that history recently at Leeds Art Gallery, seeing the work of John Atkinson Grimshaw, who joined the society in 1890. He worked at a time when painting and photography were in creative tension. Rather than resisting photography, he absorbed its influence — especially its handling of light — and let it shape his “moonlight” paintings.

    I’m not nostalgic for the past. There’s no point in trying to go backwards. But story matters. We all stand in the middle of one. The past shapes us, even as we move forward.

    At the competition, one self-portrait had been made using a flatbed scanner. The photographer placed her face on the glass and moved during the scan, creating strange, beautiful distortions. Others used sophisticated digital techniques in Photoshop. Different tools, same spirit: experiment and see what happens.

    It’s encouraging to see the Leeds Photographic Society — and many others — still thriving after so many years. But I sometimes feel that the approach to photographic competitions has remained a little static. Judging often still places heavy emphasis on technical perfection.

    Fifty or a hundred years ago, that made sense. Photography was technically demanding. Mastering exposure, focus, film choice, and the darkroom required real expertise. Technical competence was an achievement in itself.

    Today, technology is far more accessible. Good technical results are easier to achieve. Technical standards are now the starting point, not an end in themselves, as I’ve said before.

    Perhaps that’s the thread running from Grimshaw’s time to ours. The question isn’t how to preserve the past, but how to respond to what’s in front of us. If Grimshaw were alive today, I doubt he would ignore new technology. He would probably be playing with it.

    So how can these clubs and societies move forward while drawing on their past? How can they appeal to a new generation of photographers?

    I think the spirit of creativity is alive and thriving for those who are prepared to experiment — whether it’s sticking your face in a scanner, light painting with a torch at night, or taking photographs in the manner of J. M. W. Turner in the middle of a storm. Photography and creative expression should be exciting, and perhaps even dangerous.

    I hope the Leeds Photographic Society can keep the spirit of John Atkinson Grimshaw alive — not as a place of comfort and familiarity, but as a call to embrace the new and unfamiliar. To create something not seen before.