Lichfield

1985

     Thomas Patrick John Anson – 5th Earl of Lichfield is not only a bit of a mouthful but looks ever-so slightly pretentious on a business card… if you're a working photographer that is. So, he chose to be known simply as Patrick Lichfield.

He was soon the most famous photographer around and was cousin to Queen Elizabeth ll, (to be accurate, his mother was a niece of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother). Anyway, it's probably fair to say that being a Lord wouldn't totally get in the way when it came to pitching for prestigious contracts.

By 1985, I had left the north-east and established a nation-wide school photography operation working out of the Midlands for Colortrend Limited, a large photo-processing company. It was quite a task, but I welcomed the challenge.

     With 36 photographers, covering the whole of the country (including Northern Ireland) and each one snapping up to 2,000 children per week, the growth and pace of business was both frenetic and demanding. I was averaging over 1,000 miles per week, almost living in hotels (sometimes cars) and finding it tough but enjoyable.

So, on a couple of occasions, when I found myself having lunch in the same local pub as him, I couldn't help but compare Patrick's 'dream' to my 'lot'. On the spur of the moment, I hatched a plan and found myself asking him for his cooperation in a project.

     A few years earlier, I had entered the 'Photographer of The Year' competition and enjoyed the good fortune to be presented with the Supreme Award, so my plan was to prove it was no fluke by winning it again. I thought that if I were to take a really good black-and-white portrait photograph of the man who himself was widely regarded as being the top portrait photographer around, that might just do the trick. This I pitched to Patrick emphasising there would be nothing in it for him personally, only that he would be helping me out by modelling for me. Of course, it was a bit bold, but I'd never been short of confidence, and I was certain I'd be producing the best portrait of him that he'd ever had taken!

And credit where it's due to Patrick, he barely hesitated, saying "right, yes of course"! And we arranged to meet at his place the following Saturday morning at 10am. His instant agreement to my plan came as a pleasant surprise and reinforced that old maxim "you'll never win a raffle if you don't buy a ticket!"

Saturday came and what day that turned out to be.

Struggling with my camera flight case over my left shoulder and lighting equipment case in my right hand, I climbed the steps and passed through the eight classical pillars that guard the main entrance to Shugborough Hall - fully expecting a royal reception… but no. The front doors were locked.

Only after conducting a reasonable conversation with myself did I decide that this might not be the entrance I was supposed to use.

     Making my way around to the side of the house I saw a smiling face looking out from a half open door. "Patrick will be about half an hour, if you come in I'll make you a coffee". She offered her hand and introduced herself as Leonora. Then, as instructed, like a faithful dog I followed her in and upstairs where I was asked to put down my kit. We were in the kitchen, and she explained that Patrick was tidying up a tree and cutting the lawn. "Cutting the lawn" I thought, what's going on here? Surely, he's got slaves to do that!

She had a lovely, gentle smile and asked in which room I would be working. And, after inspecting the options, I chose the dining room which overlooked a pretty impressive view of the Shugborough estate. In there, we drank our coffee, chatted about school photography and Patrick's travelling. I felt warm, happy, relaxed but also excited. I don't know if it had anything to do with that particular combination of feelings or maybe the realisation that I'd just been waited on by the lovely Lady Leonora (she really was lovely) but whatever it was, it put a big stupid smile on my face as we talked.

Something then happened to me that has never happened before or since. Leonora reciprocated with an even bigger smile than mine which, in turn, made me fear it might end up in an escalation leading to an avalanche of laughter.

So, to move on, and change the mood, I quickly looked out of the window and went to say, "good grief, isn't it a lovely day"? Unfortunately, after spitting out the first two words I was struck by the inane lunacy of what I was about to say, and the humour of the situation resulted in the rest of the sentence descending into helpless and childish laughter.

It was a bit like being drunk – I was intoxicated by the situation and couldn't stop giggling; the sun was streaming through the window, and I couldn't help myself. Fortunately, she seemed to understand my condition and, as her mood became affected by mine, she also contributed to the craziness with her own fair share of the giggling.

Anyway, when things calmed down, we had a nice little chat and I felt so at home that I was in no real hurry to get on with the work. I couldn't believe how down to earth she was. And neither could I believe that, while we talked, I had been fiddling around with something under the table  and unwittingly managed to dislodge it! It turned out to be a bell push that was taped to the underside of the table. Presumably, it was there to let the servants know you were ready for the next course, but suddenly, it was dangling by the flex on my lap where it remained for some time until, amazingly, I managed to sort the problem without being rumbled (which was just as well after our giggling session).

     We heard Patrick long before he entered the room "I'm f***ing knackered"- which, with his posh accent, didn't sound anything like as crude as the men who worked in the factory. He tramped up the stairs, and coming into the dining room, said "so it wasn't an idle threat, you actually are going to take my portrait". As he spoke, I could see his eyes flicking around as he checked out my lighting set-up as he said "I see, you've brought your whole studio with you". I had drawn the thick curtains which gave me a perfect blackout to set up my studio flashlights. And, like most things in life that benefit from forward planning, my lights were already positioned perfectly, pointing in the right direction, and set to the right lighting levels.

At one point, as I worked at getting the right angles and expressions with him, he laughed at how much my chat-up conversation resembled his own saying how funny it felt having it done to him!

Inevitably, during our conversation, I couldn't resist commenting on what a great job he had compared to mine. Him having just returned from Barbados where he'd just shot a calendar for Pirelli - me having just returned from Toxteth Junior and Infants where I'd just shot... I don't know what.

     This opened up a whole new conversation I wasn't expecting. He said "don't you believe it, it's a struggle making a living at photography these days. Photography used to be a disrespected job but there was always good money in it, and now it's gone the other way. It's respectable but there's no money in it anymore. Don't you worry, you are in the most lucrative side of photography without question. Doting parents will always find the money for their kids' school photographs".

     As I left and drove up the long approach road that leads to the main road from the house, his conversation gave me much food for thought, although I must admit, the subject that mainly monopolised my thoughts was not the shoot or the conversation but a painting that had hung on his toilet wall! It was an original, about 20" x 12" depicting the most amazing scene, and one that had actually shocked me!

About twenty little creatures - elves, goblins, and such, were in the woods and engaged in one of the most bizarre and dubious activities you could ever imagine. Reclining on the right, was a beautiful young maiden positioned on her back with her legs apart wearing a delicate and flowing dress parted at the thighs. The goblins had tied her to a fallen tree.

Whilst on the left of the painting, many of them were engaged in negotiating a very elaborate and detailed fiery dragon on a wooden trolley into place so as to facilitate its copulation with the girl. There were ropes and poles everywhere to assist them in their endeavour. But two of the creatures in particular were memorable.

They had poles about ten feet long and each one fitted with a semi-circular piece tied to the top. These they were using to guide the dragon's massive appendage onto its target.

     Now, I was most curious and had several questions; firstly, what exactly was it about this painting that led to it being displayed like this? Was it Patrick… or maybe Leonora that hung it in the toilet? And finally, as we had learnt in the press, The Queen was due to stay at Shugborough the following week, so, would it be moved before she arrived or was there even more for me to learn about the royal family?

From the shoot, there were two contenders for my entry into the Photographer of The Year competition. I slightly preferred one where I had intentionally broken a basic rule by getting light spillage on the nose from the hair light (inspired by Karsh of Ottawa who had that year set the example with a portrait of Pope John Paul II).

Patrick on the other hand, thought this too adventurist, preferring one with what he thought had a perfect eye light. 

Two weeks later the decision became irrelevant when Patrick phoned me to say the sponsors had asked him to join the team of judges so he didn't want me to enter the competition.

 Some you win…