The day I met the Don

I hardly ever get excited, just ask my family. But on overhearing a reporter chatting to a photographic hero of mine over the phone, my heart began beating rapidly. This man,  not only lives on the patch but has evaded my professional stalking skills these past twenty five years.

Well, that’s not strictly true as I once had the audacity to say hello as I bumped into him  on purpose as he walked along Bruton High Street and a few years later I managed to actually snap him at an exhibition he was attending..
His name is Don McCullin and though many of you may not have heard of him, he’s an internationally acclaimed war photographer, who is usually on the top of any photographer’s invite three famous people to dinner list. I read his biography in the early days of my career and he has been a constant inspiration ever since.

I know it’s immature to have a hero but he is an inspirational . Check out his Vietnam work or his photographs from the trouble in Northern Ireland during the 70’s and you’ll beginto understand.

My job often allows me to meet and photograph the famous , and I take this all in my stride.

Usually it’s at an event like Glastonbury or maybe they have a book signing so there is no pressure. You know what to expect and shoot accordingly.

But this was different, I had to go to his house and not only was I being allowed to photograph him, he was going to hand over a roll of 120 roll film, for me to physically process. Not by machine - as I would have had to send it away - but by hand the old fashioned way.

When I was first told this I just said yeah, of course. Like I do it everyday. In fact I hadn’t processed a roll of film for over 10 years.

I was due to meet Don at his house at 9.30 on a Saturday morning. I actually arrived at 8.50 as I had been up since 5am to make sure I wasn’t late.

Don appeared behind my car and ushered me in.  He was off to London that day and I only had a few minutes so I new I would have to hurry.

We sat in his kitchen and he introduced me to his son and we chatted or maybe I chatted like old friends as he got ready to leave.

Then he said, ‘ right what do you want to do? ’. The moment had come, it was time to take his picture. Having decided the night before to leave all my excess kit in the car, I left the car armed with only my trusty D700 and F1.4 50mm prime lens. 

I had assumed that as time was short I wouldn’t even get through his front door, so that is where I decided to snap him. He was very gracious and did as asked, I was determined not to mess him around it was all over in a few frames.
 Then came the really big moment , I even photographed him taking the film out of his Mamiya camera body which he promptly dropped in my sweaty palms. I know it sounds pathetic but that was pretty cool. I now had a story with which to bore my fellow photographers with  for years to come.

I thanked him and said I would return the processed negatives as soon as possible, but he told me not to bother, to keep them. You could have knocked me over with a sheet of multi-grade. ( photographers joke) 

I grinned like an idiot for the rest of the weekend and bored everyone I met with my good fortune..

Even 50 year old guys get excited once in a while.

Maybe next time I will regale you with the story of how a very good friend Graham Trott and I videoed the processing of the film the good old way and  with the aid of a fine bottle of Shriraz.