The eye and the heart
by Nici Cumpston, 6 April 2020
I was delighted to be one of this year’s judges for the National Photographic Portrait Prize, colloquially known as the ‘N-triple-P’. It was a rare but welcome opportunity for me to sit quietly and devote myself to looking closely at over two thousand five hundred photographs. As a photographer myself, I love nothing more than seeing what other people are creating with their cameras.
Focussing in on images and making a final selection required deep concentration and robust discussion, and became a most pleasurable experience due to working alongside two fabulous like-minded people: artist Naomi Hobson, from Coen in far North Queensland, and National Portrait Gallery curator Penelope Grist.
The process ran smoothly thanks to the in-house expertise of the NPG team, who enabled us easy access to the images and statements so we could concentrate on our job of assessing them. Interestingly, after arriving at a group of seven hundred images — comprised of photographs that at least one of us picked to be in the initial shortlist — we realised not a single one of them had been selected by all three of us! This meant we had to then look at each of these images together to reach a verdict on the 47 finalists who now feature in the NPPP 2020 exhibition. We had many in-depth discussions and got to know each other quite quickly, as the presence of each image in the final exhibition must be agreed on unanimously amongst the judges. It was a mixture of exhaustive, exhausting and exhilarating.
Current themes of everyday life across the country began to emerge as we considered the multitude of photographs. Images of ecological degradation, drought and fire prevailed, as opposed to picturesque landscapes — which of course reflects the recent situation in Australia. There were representations of family bonds, people in hats, people with their beloved pets, subjects with prized possessions, images that shared historical information, and images of hope and of despair. Techniques employed included digital, film, tin-types, colour, black and white and toned images. Some images were straightforward portraiture; others were surreal; some were clever, original ideas; while others were more derivative.
As a national award, open to anyone who is an Australian citizen or resident, the NPPP gives people from all backgrounds the opportunity to have their photographs exhibited. From the perspective of Aboriginal people, we haven’t always been included in that mainstream, so it was refreshing to see so many images of and by Aboriginal people among this year’s finalists. Importantly, the NPPP is a democratic view of our society at this particular time in history, and the final exhibition tours nationally, which is a great gift for the nation.
As we narrowed down our selection, it became more and more difficult; we couldn’t imagine losing any of the images we’d so carefully selected! However, there is a limit to how many works can be included — there is only so much space on gallery walls, whether at the home of portraiture at the NPG or the galleries included in the subsequent national tour. We had a breakthrough when it was suggested that we look at only including our top choices, as opposed to what we couldn’t take out. This meant we only had a certain number to choose, and that shifted our individual focus dramatically. The end result was a selection of remarkably strong photographs that each of us felt we couldn’t do without.
The final decisions were made after carefully considering various aspects of each photograph, including the image composition, the tonal qualities, and the emotional response they evoked in us. Again, we obviously didn’t all have the same responses, so it became an increasingly rewarding experience as our varied points of view made for rich discussion. The artist statement for each work was also of importance to us in the judging process, as we carefully considered if it added support to the image. I felt a real sense of trust developing between the judges over the few days that we were together: we took our roles very seriously, and sought to do our best — to accord the artists the respect their efforts warranted by working diligently through their images.
There were so many photographs that really moved me and that I could make mention of, but I have selected just a few to share with you in this article.
Natalie Finney’s black and white photograph titled Dad, aged 73 is looking down the length of a dining table at her father as he sits alone, gazing towards the light coming in from the side window. The table is bare apart from a coffee cup, a bowl of grapes and what appears to be an ashtray. He is holding a lit cigarette and looks as though he is about to say something — and in fact the statement tells us that he is speculating as to when he and Natalie will see each other again. He returned to Greece eight years ago, after living in Melbourne for most of his life. Natalie brought her children to Greece to meet him for the first time and this is the day of their departure back to Australia. You can feel the emotion, and I sensed the growing distance between them and the pain this knowledge brought.
In Rob Palmer’s portrait, chef Josh Niland embraces a majestic mahi-mahi, stretching to hold it upright on a chopping board as his arms barely extend the length of its long, slender body. This beautifully composed, painterly image — with its soft textures, colours and tonal range — elegantly captures Niland’s deep respect for the fish. His philosophy of reducing unnecessary wastage by utilising every part of the fish when cooking has won him and Saint Peter — his Paddington seafood restaurant — numerous awards and international acclaim.
After years battling devastating drought, Dad watched from the sidelines of his cattle yards as his livelihood was methodically drafted off for sale. This image captures him, oblivious to the camera, in a moment of pain and heartbreak at the impossible decision he’d made that day. In order to preserve the future, and save the core of his breeding stock, the rest had to go — and with them a lifetime of bloodlines went too. Down but not defeated, Dad’s strength through adversity shone through for all to see. Drought has many faces; this is one of them.
Originally published at https://www.portrait.gov.au.
