Angel Place in Sydney is a back street that runs between the city’s two main shopping strips, George Street and Pitt Street. It’s at the prestigious end of town, tucked behind Martin Place, a swathe of light and space that cuts across four city blocks and creates an illusion of transparency at the heart of the city’s business district. The George/Pitt end of Martin Place has a particular gravitas that only money can buy: its stylish Victorian buildings, built to house the head offices of some of Australia’s oldest financial institutions, are home now to Macquarie Bank—a quintessentially modern, home-grown success story in global financial services—and a handful of jewellers and couturiers of the if-you-have-to-ask-the-price-you-can’t-afford-it variety. It doesn’t so much symbolise Australian capitalism as distil its essence. The other end of Martin Place, the Elizabeth Street end, stands at a slight elevation from which the functionally modern office block of the Reserve Bank of Australia can look down imperiously upon the money-grubbing mortals. Or so the semiotics of architecture and planning would suggest. You can stand at either end of Martin Place and be in no doubt as to which is the tonier. The Elizabeth Street end may look down on the George/Pitt end, but it does so in a physical sense only.

Anyway, back to Angel Place: it hosts the City Recital Hall, which is noted for its brilliant acoustics, and two or three good restaurants. These, and the proximity to Martin Place, give the little lane the appeal of genteel bohemianism. There’s something else, too. Like all such streets—sequestered from the white noise of the city, below the tall indifferent backs of city blocks—Angel Place has its own sonic ambiance, a sort of muffled echoing peacefulness. That’s the first thing you notice as you enter; the second thing is also a sound—an astonishing variety of bird song drizzling down through the silence. Looking up, you see the cages.

This is a clever, beautiful and thought-provoking art installation—Forgotten Songs, by Michael Thomas Hill—in which every (empty) cage and recorded song represents a bird once common in what is now Sydney but no longer found there, forced out by European settlement (short video here). I was prompted to write about it when I came across this stunning photograph, taken by—who knows? Google Images isn’t terribly helpful on authorship and copyright, so if anyone reads this and has the answer, please let me know. I’ve added a few lines of my own to the pic which, though conceived independently of Hill’s excellent artwork, work for me as a kind of ironic (but reinforcing) counterpoint to his theme. Worth a visit if you’re in Sydney.

 

Part of Universal Stranger’s “mission”, if we have one at all, is to bring together like-minded creative people, so it was pleasing to learn that our June 3 profile of photographer Michele Mossop led to her re-establishing contact with long-lost former colleagues in the Italian media. One of the formative experiences in Michele’s career was the time she spent on Italian newspaper la Città, Quotidiano di Firenze during the early 1980s, a politically turbulent period, even by Italian standards. As part of our research for the piece, we tracked down the following video on YouTube – a photographic elegy to the people and ideals that once animated a paper which, like so many others, is no longer with us (Michele appears at 1.22, 1.23, 1.24 and 1.26):

Sigh; guaranteed to moisten the eye of many a former journalist and news photographer, especially in these post-print days (as Michele points out, the soundtrack – from Cinema Paradiso – doesn’t help). So what happened to la Città (The City)? Michele takes up the story:

“Just before I left the paper it was sold and changed masthead, then it became the bureau for the national newspaper la Repubblica, which is a fine paper, and an important one. For years it ran the same 10 questions to [then Prime Minister Silvio] Berlusconi every day [see note below]. Over time I lost touch with the people, and lost touch with the politics completely after the Berlin Wall fell. When I worked there we were all – apart from the editor and maybe a couple of others – in our 20s. The paper’s ‘rivers of gold’ was la Pulce – the flea – a classified ads publication just like the Trading Post. It’s the same in journalism everywhere.”

The 10 questions were in reference to Berlusconi’s alleged affair with an 18-year-old (more background here). The questions below were taken from la Repubblica‘s website; not sure why they address Berlusconi as “Mr President”: a sarcastic reference, perhaps, to the impression he once gave of harbouring ambitions to become the country’s head of state?

Photographer Michele Mossop recently made her first appearance on these pages with a beautifully nuanced portrait of singer Matthew Henrick. Michele is widely known in Australia as a news photographer whose images are distinguished not just by a clear factuality that captures the essence of the story but also a sense of light, shade and composition that vividly evokes its human aspects.

That duality was to the fore in her picture of Matt – a publicity shot for his recording of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 – which combines a studio portrait of the singer and a photoshopped image of Dreshout’s famous engraving of the poet.

It turns out that Michele’s work, and portraiture especially, is heavily influenced by Renaissance art. To learn more about what shapes her craft, we asked her about her influences, career and creative process.

Self Portrait (Memory), by Michele Mossop, 2003

I always loved faces, portraits of any kind, and dancers especially. I also loved the old family photos. I thought about doing a course in photography, but photography was looked on as a trade. All the courses looked far too technical – they didn’t even mention subject matter. So I forgot about it and studied Fine Art at Sydney University; back then, the subject consisted only of art history. I loved the Renaissance and Baroque. I loved Italy. In January 1979 I moved to Florence.

Dancers in the Wings, by Michele Mossop, 2008

It was a very interesting time. The Red Brigades, the Historic Compromise, the P2 masonic lodge – they were all interconnected (see References below – Rody). The newspapers were many and varied and the news magazines ran great photographs – all news, unposed, spontaneous.

When I arrived in Italy I skirted around the idea of photography but thought I wouldn’t be any good because of the technical demands, so I thought about doing paper conservation.

On my second day I photographed a maxi terrorist trial where the leader had just been captured. There were about 96 defendants in 12 cages….

My interest in paper conservation was less than lacklustre. It was just a way to have something to do with photography. But everyone in Italy seemed to have a darkroom in a cupboard or bathroom and everyone wanted to be a fotogiornalista. There were no schools or courses of photography. A boyfriend taught me how to develop black and white film and printing. i discovered it wasn’t that difficult. I became obsessed and spent most of my spare time and the little money I had processing film and printing in the bathroom/darkroom.

I started to check out the newspapers everyday to see what was happening and would go out and photograph demonstrations and other political events. I then fronted up to the small local daily paper, la Citta’, Quotidiano di Firenze, and asked for work – I started the next day. I think the editor thought I must have been crazy as a foreigner and a woman but he had a lot of faith in me and I just loved it. I had a front row seat to all that happened in the city, and that made me feel very much part of the place. On my second day at the paper I photographed a maxi terrorist trial where the leader of the group had just been captured. There were about 96 defendants in 12 cages in the courtroom.

Terrorist Trial, Italy, by Michele Mossop, 1983

I prefer to use available light and to observe and wait for the image to happen. Sometimes this happens in professional life – when photographing the arts, for instance. Over the years on newspapers I have seen style move towards more controlled images, especially portraits, with the use of studio lights, art direction; the looser more spontaneous images aren’t appreciated as much. This of course is often mediated by the fact that you usually have limited time to shoot in a place that gives little or no context, so you just try to make a nice looking picture which is well lit and looks polished. More and more in newspapers there is a trend to using a photograph as little more than identification. This is a big worry….

The old masters didn’t have electric light. We still refer to Rembrandt light. Some of those I particularly like are Bronzino: highly stylised but exquisite; a couple of props to reveal something about the subject – for example, a chubby little boy squeezing a goldfinch. There’s Carravaggio – very dramatic, minimalist for his day, risky; he would have been a big butch war photographer today, or – as a friend suggested – Oliver Stone, just full of it. Apart from the old masters, other artistic inspirations and influences are Mark Rothko and cinema, especially the 1970s.

Dieter Adamsas, by Michele Mossop, 2000

Self Portrait, by Rembrandt, 1659

Among photographers, iconic American fashion and portrait photographer Richard Avedon, whose classic portraits reveal much about their subject; the delightful, wry Martin Parr who captures the ordinariness of suburban Britain (or anywhere) – the Philip Larkin of British photography, but with humour and a much warmer heart.

One of the reasons I left Australia was a fear of the silent still suburbia where I grew up. I try to capture it but it always evades.

 

Suburban Nightview, by Michele Mossop, 2009

I have became more interested in landscapes – especially urban, suburban landscapes. One of the reasons I left Australia was a fear of the silent still suburbia where I grew up. I try to capture it but it always evades.

People ask how I would describe my style: I just look.

A lot’s changed since I became a photographer – technology, media. I miss the darkroom and the quietness of working there but I would never go back to it: digital photography is so much easier and it makes a huge difference for a freelancer – just a laptop, no rolls of film, no prints, turnaround is more immediate.

What I do miss about film is that you worked more intuitively: there was no screen at the back of the camera to check the exposure. You really had to think about what you were doing and know your camera, like playing a musical instrument. No photoshop. I feel as though I have lost something.

Mick, by Michele Mossop, 1989

Also with digital we shoot far too many frames and very indiscriminately. i looked at some negs I took at a Rolling Stones concert years ago: I shot only two rolls. Back then, you had limited time and only 36 frames per roll and manual focusing. You never wanted to run out of film in the middle of something so you shot with a lot more patience and thought. Today I would have shot the equivalent of about 10 rolls for the same result.

I love my iPhone camera – it’s portable and easy to use, but you still have to think about what you are photographing.

References:

Red Brigades, the Historic Compromise, the P2 masonic lodge

 la Citta’, Quotidiano di Firenze (shots of Michele at 1.22, 1.23, 1.24 and 1.26)

Rembrandt light

Below: Portrait of Giovanni de’ Medici as a Child, by Agnolo Bronzino, c. 1545

Below: Judith Beheading Holofernes, by Caravaggio, 1598-99

Below: Truman Capote, by Richard Avedon, 1974

Below: Bored Couples, Brighton, UK, by Martin Parr, 1985