Greetings and welcome back to the show!
Sometimes all it takes to change your life is buying a one-way ticket.
For some, it means leaving England as a teenager to see the world, joining Magnum a few years later, and spending the next six decades documenting history.
I am Tom Jacob and this is The Camera Café Show.
Today I'm joined by Magnum photographer Ian Berry, whose Leica has travelled the world for more than sixty years. From remote villages and bustling cities to some of history's defining moments, his curiosity has taken him across continents in search of the people and stories that connect us all.
From Africa to Europe to South America, the United States, and back to quiet British villages
Together we travel from Africa to Prague, the United States, and back to the English countryside, while talking about his books, his encounters with Henri Cartier-Bresson, and what joining Magnum has meant throughout his remarkable career. And because this is The Camera Café Show, you'll also hear why finding a decent hotel might be the first rule of photographing a conflict, how one of his photographs ended up on a Bob Dylan album, his love of motorbikes, and some wonderful advice for young photojournalists dreaming of seeing the world through a camera.
So grab yourself a coffee, settle in, and enjoy my conversation with the wonderful Ian Berry.
Tom: Welcome back everyone on the show. Tonight we have someone who has spent more than six decades traveling the world, meeting people, witnessing history, and telling stories through photography. From Africa to China and beyond, but as you will hear tonight in our show, he has always been as interested in people as in making pictures. Ian, it's a real pleasure having you on the show tonight
Ian: Thank you. Delighted to be here
Tom: Ian, how's been-- it's June now. How's been the weather in UK? You had already a chance to take out the shorts and tan your legs?
Ian: The weather in the UK is like it always is. One day it's raining, the next day the sun's shining. the moment, we're having a lot of rain, a lot of wind, it's pretty cold. But that's life, isn't it? I've thought of moving to France frequently then I would really have to learn to speak French well, so. Most people understand me here
Tom: Now speaking of France, you told me that in September we can't meet up at the 'Visa Pour L'Image' Photojournalism Festival because you're off to Tahiti, which sounds a pretty good excuse not to go to a photography festival
Ian: No, I like Perpignan. It's it's for me the best festival. I think Jean-François is is terrific in getting it together. I say that having had three exhibitions there at different times. But for a photojournalist it's the best place
Tom: So Ian, you don't eat fish. You go to Tahiti surrounded by seafood restaurants. What will be on the menu?
Ian: I'm a typical Brit. I eat anything and anyone except fish. I don't know why I'm allergic to it, but I always have been. And I grew up as a boy on the coast, the northwest coast of England, and the staple diet was fish I don't know. It's the only thing I'm allergic to. I'm not allergic to cameras. I wasn't allergic to film, so it's okay really
Tom: It works out.
Ian: Yeah
Tom: Ian, before we dive a bit into your younger years, you-- when I listen to you, you often say that luck plays a huge role in life or in your life. Looking back now, you think that luck sometimes found you, or you just have a habit of putting yourself in the right place where interesting things can happen?
Ian: I think I've always been lucky. I've always happened to be in the right place at the right time , when I've needed to be. I've always managed to talk my way into the places that needed to. And somehow I've always met the right photographers when I was younger, who were very helpful. I met the Magnum photographers when I was still young. But that was because look, when I was 17 and I went to South Africa, it to be the most exciting place. I thought there would be lions on the main street. And I worked for a newspaper there to start with, and then a magazine for Africans called Drum. And I was really lucky in that a guy who had been editing, Picture Post... Picture Post was a magazine, like Paris Match or Life. I think you're too young to remember it. Actually, so am I. the guy who edited it was coming out to edit magazine, Drum, and I thought this was a terrific opportunity to learn about magazine photography than newspaper photography. And when he arrived, I pestered him to give me a job. I was working for the Johannesburg Sunday Times at that mo- that time. And he gave me a job, and that was- A terrific influence for me. He... I learned a lot from him about magazine work, but at the end of the day he got fed up with the magazine, I got fed up with the magazine, for reasons I won't go into. But he then introduced me to Magnum because he'd used photographers when he worked at Picture Post, when he edited that. And so that, was an easy intro to Cartier-Bresson. And that was my first or second or third or whatever lucky break.
And I've kind of figured on that sort of thing happening ever since
Tom: Let's go back a moment, to South Africa. What made you go, a boy from Preston in the UK, what made you go... Only for the excitement?
Ian: I wanted to travel. I had earlier thought I would like to be a journalist, but I realized early on that I was a bit too stupid. I couldn't really write my own name, and photography was much more interesting. The reality is that as a, an independent, as a freelance photographer, instead of working for one editor, you're working for 50 editors. So in some ways it's trickier, but it suits me better More variety And at that time, as a Brit, you could go to Canada, but mainly Australia or New Zealand as what was called a 10-pound Pom. Essentially, you could go for free. But I kind of thought they're all Australia, New Zealand is rather a long way away, and I didn't want to disengage from my family totally. South Africa sounded more exciting. In retrospect, having now spent time in both Zealand and Australia, maybe I should have gone there, but maybe my luck would have been different.
Tom: Yeah
Ian: Africa was an interesting place, and I learned quite a bit about life there. I have never been personally very political, but it's hard in South Africa not to be political or to become political, if you like. Even working for the white Sunday Times paper, I didn't have enormous amount of contact with the Africans. But then joining this African magazine changed the world for me. I was working with African journalists, and when we travel somewhere They had to drop me off at night at a white hotel, and they had to go and find somewhere to sleep in the local township. We couldn't even go into a cafe and have a cup of tea or a drink together. They were always pretty badly treated. I was treated with some suspicion as a Brit. And I'm pretty weedy. My hair's slightly longer than South Africans. Don't look like a Springbok rugby forward at all. So I always had more trouble from the white cops than I had from the Africans. And the Africans looking at me and listening to my accent realized that I wasn't white South African. And I don't know why, but maybe they assumed that I was on their side. Which to a degree I was because of my association with the magazine. So it was an interesting time
Tom: The man who took you under his wing there was Roger Madden?
Ian: He was a good guy. He-- You had to, You had to get someone to vouch for you if you went to South Africa as a young guy. And the only person my family knew or happened to know of was this guy, Roger Madden. And he very kindly to put me up for a year. He was a good photographer. He had just come back. He was a South African, but he'd just come back from America, and he'd been working as an assistant for Ansel Adams. So the year I spent with him was kind of interesting. It was all shooting four by five film. Mostly shooting corporate advertising work and working in the darkroom for him. And he taught me an awful lot about darkroom work. I don't know. South Africa was more leaning to the American field in photography at that time rather than the European field. And they were already using papers like DuPont Varigam multi-grade papers which I learned how to use. And that was long before I came back to Europe. So I got a good education with him, but I knew that this was not really the sort of photography that I wanted to do. But he taught me an awful lot about lighting and that type of photography
Tom: The Sharpeville massacre in 1960, Ian, you didn't know you were heading to an event that would become like almost a turning point in South African history, no?
Ian: No, I didn't. And in fact I was working for this magazine, Drum, and, I got a call early in the morning from the editor, Tom Hopkinson, saying that a guy had been killed, an African had been killed at this township and would I like to go and have a look and see what was happening? Which of course I did. This was early morning, six o'clock in the morning or something. And I went there with the assistant picture editor, was a white South African. We got to the gates. In those days, In the same way that Africans had to have a permit to be in a white area a white had to have a permit to enter an African township. Of course, we didn't have a permit. And there were a whole lot of foreign photographers there, Life, Black Star, AP, all these guys. But the chap who'd been shot, of course, had long since been taken away. And we were standing around there talking to each other as, journalists always do when nothing's happening, when this convoy came along of armored vehicles and turned into the township. So we all followed. But we'd only gone a short way into the township when the officer in charge turned round and said, better clear off or you'll all be arrested." So cars stayed, which we were one, and we went a bit further and the guy stopped again and said, "Look," better get out. I'm not warning you again." So the other two cars left. And we thought, sod it, we'll keep going. And so we followed them into the township. Humphrey, the journalist with me, I told him to go around the back of the police station and stay in the car just in case in case we needed to make a quick getaway. And I walked amongst the crowd, and bothered me. I walked right up to the wire of the... which surrounded the police station. Nobody cared. I chatted to people, and I thought, "There's really nothing gonna happen here, and I'm wasting time. as well go back." So I walked around the back of the police station, and as I got to the other side, police station had a great open field around it. As I got to the other side, shooting started. I assumed they were either shooting blanks to scare people off or shooting in the air. It was only when a guy standing next to me got shot that I realized they were serious. And in those days, I just had a couple of Leicas with a wide angle 35 and a 50, and I'd been shooting using the 50. And I was almost out of film. Film in those days, obviously. So I got down in the grass, and all I could do was to shoot people coming towards me. And then I realized they were falling around. They were shoot-shooting seriously. The shooting stopped briefly, and I lay there not wanting to be seen, actually. And then they started shooting again the few people still standing around.
This became important at the trial. The people who were not shot, were 70-odd people killed. Those who were not shot or not there and had not run away were being shot in the back as they were walking away. So at the inquiry later on I was the only white witness because I was the only white guy there. And because I was white, the the judge my word for it against the police, because the police had said they'd only fired once. And I had pictures of cops standing on top of the armored vehicles reloading their weapons, and they had also said, the cops had also said that they'd only fired from the ground. They hadn't fired from up top. And of course, I had pictures of them firing from up top. The pictures were crap, essentially. They were just pictures of people running towards me or dying, bodies around. But the only good thing was that the people who were shot and who ran away, and some of them were caught and collected by the police, they I don't know what the word is. They were go. They weren't charged with an affray, or they had been charged with an affray, but they were released. So that was it, really.
But, one of these occasions when really a newspaper scene rather than a magazine scene I'd shot a few pictures before. Anyway, the pictures ran round the world and you, as a photographer, you get a reputation sometimes for the wrong reasons. They weren't great pho- photographs. They just weren't. There was only one picture of a group running towards me, and the small kid was holding his, Jacket over his head as though to protect himself from the bullets, which was kind of interesting, but basically not very.
Anyway, Humphrey and I ran back to the car because I was the only person standing there, and we took off, but neither of us knew the township, so we were a bit nervous that Africans might not take kindly to a couple of whites having heard all the shooting. The people we stopped to ask were great. They just said, "Yeah, you take this road, that road, and you're, you get out." And we did. We didn't hang around
Tom: But Ian, this was the first time you got shot at, or you saw actually people dying, or you experienced this before already?
Ian: It was the first time I was shot at. Previous, prior to that, the young policemen, often if you were in a township, would say, "Clear off," or, we'll shoot you." But they never did, and so that was the first time
Tom: Can you remember what went through your head at the time, Ian?
Ian: Actually, very little goes through your head, you... Everything is more or less instinctive. I think if you have a camera, you have a camera there, you're thinking about the pictures, not what's going on. Except of course, as a professional photographer, you're aware of what's going on. But, I've had a lot closer shaves at, after that. But it was kind of interesting
Tom: Then, Ian, after your time in South Africa, let's jump to Paris. You moved to Paris and eventually joined Magnum. What could Magnum do for a young photographer at that stage of your life?
Ian: It was at that time the best agency. I thought it was the best agency, but, s- as did many other people. And, I went to them, but I realized when I was still in South Africa, I was trying to freelance around Africa. But in those days, there were no flights, or there was one flight a week. Pan Am flew from East Africa to West Africa. But otherwise, you had to fly back to Europe, either London or Paris, and then fly back to West Africa if you wanted to go there. Which wasn't really practical.
That's when Tom Hopkinson suggested I contact Magnum, which I did. I contacted Magnum Paris, but I got no reply from them. A- afterwards, I discovered the reason was that the bureau chief, Magnum bureau chief in Paris was an ex-Paris Match journalist, but he didn't speak any English. So he ignored my letters in English. But I discovered this later on, and actually Magnum New York contacted me. And they then contacted Paris contacted Cartier-Bresson, or they contacted the then bureau chief in in Paris. I contacted him, and he said, "Talk to the other photographers." They'd looked at my pictures. said, "Okay. But before you can be admitted, you've got to talk to Henri Cartier-Bresson." So he fixed up an appointment with me, and I went along to meet him in the bistro just down below the office. And, I thought I'd better be a bit French, and I ordered coffee. Henri ordered tea. I showed him my prints, he flipped through them like that and left. I didn't... what's happening? So I went down to the office, or up to the office, and the guy said, "What did you do? He hates you." So I told them, and they said, "Oh, goodness, no. He doesn't want to see prints. He wants to see contacts. He wants to see how you think, How you react from frame to frame." So they fixed up another appointment. And of course, being a Brit, I didn't tell him that I admired him or like that. In those days, Brits didn't do that. That only came in from America later on. I went back, and I ordered tea. I showed Henri my contact sheets. I told him that I thought he was a great photographer, which I did, and he was, at that time, he was really the doyen of photography. And I went back upstairs, and they said, "Great. You're in Magnum." That's how it was in those days. Crazy, really. And actually, Henri was something of an Anglophile, and we got on very well, and had a great time in Paris. I spent a lot of time with him, walked around with him, got a lot of good advice, and it worked well.
I suppose what I should have said, that in the meantime, not having heard from anybody, not having heard from Magnum, I decided to go to Paris anyway. And the guy who had been bureau chief, who didn't speak English, had left Magnum set up his own agency called Visa. And we were four photographers A Swede, a Dane a Hollander, and myself. Had a German lady working on the desk and that was it. That was the total outfit. And I suppose, oh, I didn't immediately recognize it, but it was one of the best periods of my life, and I kinda thought, "I'm doing okay here," what I only realized later was that this guy, Michel Chevalier actually pointing me in the right direction. He was the great guy, not me. He was telling me where things were gonna happen, what was gonna happen. He was an ex-"Paris Match" journalist, and he knew everything. And I joined him with these three other guys, and r- we had a great time, about a great couple of years. But then I got this invite from Magnum, and I was flattered. And subsequently I regretted in a way that had left Visa because he was killed in a car crash just after I left, and of course the agency So again, someone else's bad luck, but My good luck that I joined Magnum.
Tom: When you walked around with Cartier-Bresson, you were eager to learn from him, Ian, or you were so young that you thought you knew already a few tricks about photography?
Ian: I, I remember on one occasion Henri said... We'd looked at a s- situation that was developing. Henri said, "Look-" I think I'm lucky I get one good photograph a And thought, smart kid. I thought, I can take a good photograph every week. But he was right, i'm at the moment editing a retrospective, and when I look back, even though I've been around for 100 years he was pretty well the ball there because I don't have that many great But I learned a lot from him, how to walk, how to act how not to be seen you're shooting on the street. It was a great time
Tom: And how I have to imagine this, Ian, when you walk around with him, you talk about photography all the time, or you guys also talked about life, politics, wine or food or anything?
Ian: Yeah, we talked about everything. He really, I really learned from him how to... It really became apparent that previously I'd been working on Michel Chevalier's ideas rather than mine. But Henri, in a way, taught me how to think for myself. And and I must say since then, I've always preferred to to work, walk alone when shooting. I hate traveling with journalists. Some of them are great, some of them aren't. But if you want to get into a situation, you have to be by yourself. It's my feeling
Tom: When I think of Henri Cartier-Bresson he looks always so serious. You remember a moment when he made you laugh, Ian?
Ian: I, it wasn't that lighthearted. Yeah, we had I, w- I then, after a time in Paris, I moved back to London. And, Whenever I was back in Paris, I became vice president in Paris. We always had dinner and, his wife, as was a photographer, and he by this time had more or less stopped shooting. He was drawing. But she'd go off in the kitchen, and he'd look around and pull out a photograph. "What do you think? Have I still got it?" So he had a considerable sense of humor And his
Tom: Okay
Ian: was better than mine
Tom: Better than your French
Ian: Better than my English
Tom: Haha. Henri used Leicas like almost an extension of his own. You went on to shoot with Leica due to Henri or you were already shooting with Leica before?
Ian: I was already shooting with Leicas. I started out in South Africa with N- Nikon rangefinder cameras. I entered some photographic contest out of Tokyo, and I got first and third prize, and I got two bodies and about three lenses. And they were great cameras, and they were at this time becoming very popular with American working in working around the world in Vietnam and so on. And I was using those to start with, but they stopped making them, and I thought I'll never get them repaired. So I went to Wetzlar, and they'd stopped making Leica MPs. But I think it, it was Bob Schwalberg, who worked then for Leica, took an M3 and had it converted for me to an MP. And and then as I also picked up an M2 at that time. And they were great and M6s came along, M7s and so on, and I just went on using a couple of Leicas. And they were always reliable. They never let me down. I remember in the Congo once in the middle of a gunfight, a life photographer was sitting on the curb with a screwdriver trying to repair one of his cameras. Not a Leica, I should add. And so I've kind of stuck with them
Tom: Now you talk about Congo. This was the time you were nearly executed what happened there?
Ian: Yeah, it was a funny old war. The Katanga, southern province which has all the what's the ge- generic word? But anyway they had all the mining and so forth, They seceded from the Congo. So there was a war between Katanga and the Congo, and the UN, for their own reasons, decided to step in, and they sent a lot of UN troops of different nationalities. I, Moroccans, Indians Swedish who were, on the side of the... The was on the side of the Congo. Katanga had a lot of mercenaries, Rhodesians, Germans South Africans. And I, went along first time for independence and got to know it a little bit.
It was a rather weird war actually because, the Africans didn't know... Because there was a mix of white photographers at the UN, white photographers with Katanga the Katangese really didn't know who was what, and I was... I'd been out for a morning photographing the fighting that was going on and came back to the main hotel, the Leo II Hotel, where all the journalists stayed and- Just arrived at the place, and a German mercenary came out and he had his own Jeep and half a dozen Katangese soldiers. And he was pretty drunk, this was just after lunch. And just opened fire on us, just sprayed us. Whether he was too drunk or whether he deliberately fired over our heads, I don't know. The two guys with me took off, and kind of thought, just gonna photograph this guy." Anyway, he got into his Jeep and took off. a load of Katangese soldiers down the street saw what had happened and assumed that because this guy had fired at us, we must be UN. And they came and chased us, and I followed the other two, and we went into a block of flats occupied by Belgians. No one would let us in. Finally we we came down and we thought better to go and talk to the soldiers, which we did, and they... Sometimes soldiers in those days, Africans, got very excitable, and they decided that we were UN and stood us up against a wall. And I kind of thought, "This is not good," and a Rhodesian mercenary up passing by and saw what was happening and to these guys persuaded them to let him take us to see the president, which they said okay. I think they wanted us off their hands, really. So we went to see the president, who had a good laugh when we told him what had happened, and we had tea and biscuits with him and a lot of laughter. Bit of a joke really. But there was one... There was a nasty moment when they because they were really excitable. However, that happens.
Tom: Or it's your luck again, Ian
Ian: Yeah. Yeah, I'm I've been lucky pretty well
Tom: What's-- As a photojournalist, Ian, what's the first thing you do when you arrive in a country that is in conflict?
Ian: Find a decent hotel. I don't know. It sometimes it's tricky. When the Russians, for instance, invaded Prague I again was very lucky because w-we knew that potentially if something was gonna happen there. Politically, it was obvious. So I got a visa, and I got a call early in the morning from our then Magnum bureau chief in Paris, Ross Melcher and said, "The Russians are on the move. Do you wanna go? Don McCullin, I've already spoken to him, and he's already on his way." And I, "Yeah, on his way. I've gotta be there," at that time, Don was briefly a member of Magnum. He was a member for... Or he was an associate actually, but he was with Magnum, and he stayed about a year. But, I went into London as soon as the Czech Embassy opened. I got a visa, went to Heathrow. The flights to Vienna, which was the obvious place go from, were full. And I ran into a BBC journalist friend, and he said, "Give it a go from Munich. You have a chance." I hired a car, headed for Munich, and on the way, I picked up a copy of a newspaper which existed then, the Herald Tribune, and I read it, and I saw that there was an architectural conference going on at that time in Prague. Got to Munich, and by this time it was dark and it was because I was in a German registered hire car. But it wasn't so serious because at that point where I crossed over had previously been German up until the end of the Second World War. I was going, tanks were coming towards me all the way. Got to the border and the crowd of journalists standing around there as always, and they said, "Forget it. We've tried to get in. We can't get in. ... The Czechs are turning everyone back." I've come this far, you've got to try. So I drove up, and the Czechs knew what I was. I had a bag on the back seat of the car the border post had just been taken over by a Russian officer, and I think he wanted to show his authority over the Czech border people. And he asked me what I was doing, and I said I was going to this conference, and he looked at me and said, "Oh, go ahead." And so I was the only guy to get into Prague that day. Don, everybody from Vienna was turned back. And, It was kind of interesting.
There was one other photographer, a guy called Hilmar Pabel. I don't know whether you know of him. He was a stern photographer. He was there working on a movie they were making in Prague. And as I was shooting there, came across this crazy guy had a couple of what was the East German reflex camera? A Dixer or something like that. A camera bag, a cardboard camera bag on string, and he was just walking up to the Russians and shooting. And I thought if he can do it, I can do it." And he turned out to be Josef Koudelka, who in later years joined Magnum. The worst thing was that all the restaurants, the... I was st- staying in the biggest hotel in Prague, had shut down. I had a room. was able to drink water, but no food. And I don't know how these people who starve themselves make it, because after about three days, my guts were, going in and out like that, just existing on water. But it was interesting. It, You could go up to the on their tanks and photograph them quickly and they would shoot over your head chase after you. And the Czechs crowd would form up around after you've run to stop the the Russians chasing you. And you went a hundred yards and someone in a house or a shop would open the door and drag you in out of hands of the Russians. But it was kind of interesting. The only snag was that I was really after about four days repeating myself and other guys started to arrive and a French friend got in hiding under a seat in the train, had been found and they'd taken his cameras off him. At that time I was shooting with a couple of Leicas and a Nikon camera with a longer lens.
And so I left my Nikon with him and thought time to go really. And I knew I had deadline for Paris Match. So I set off at night, absolutely exhausted, went to sleep at the wheel in this hired Volkswagen Beetle, drove into a ditch. And at night this, I was trying to figure, I'd put all my film of course into inside the hubcaps of the VW, in the door panels and so forth, all over the place. And I was there stuck in a ditch, but a farmer came along in a tractor, hauled me out, and I set off, went like hell for the to catch a late flight from Munich Airport. Got to-- got there just in time. Ripped off the hubcaps, the the door padding and the headlights. I put a couple of films in the headlights. Rushed in, caught the flight, dumped the car, was an Avis rental, and heard a word from Avis, and I've... So I've used them ever since. And of times I've been I've been lucky with really damaged Avis cars. So I stick with them.
Tom: Ian, this sounds almost like a good James Bond movie, hiding your film in your car
Ian: No really. It's again, you're just lucky, it it's a funny old life, but it's better than working
Tom: But you actually spoke to Koudelka when you were there, or you told this story later when he came to live in London?
Ian: No, I only realized when he was, when he came and joined Magnum, and I saw his face, and I realized in the background of a couple of my photographs was this guy who I thought was a lunatic. But he was a lot braver than me and and a damn good photographer
Tom: You also tell that people around the world are remarkably different but also remarkably similar at the same time. After spending decades documenting humanity now at its best and at its worst, your faith in people has increased or decreased?
Ian: I listen to politicians. I don't want to be rude on your podcast. I... Wherever you go, and I spent a lot of time in Russia and in China, people are great, they really are on a one-to-one basis. I love working in China because you can do a lot of things that I certainly couldn't do in this country and certainly not in America today. But I... The first book I did when I came back to live in England was on the English, and I got a grant from the Arts Council, which was great 'cause it enabled me to travel around and photograph the English and during the whole time I shot on that book, I had... I didn't have one person say anything to me against photography or what have you. A couple of years ago, I had a publisher approach me and "Do you wanna update it?" And I thought about it, and I thought, "I don't wanna know." No fun shooting in this country now, and you wouldn't dream of photographing a child. Now, there's some- somebody 100 yards down the road would be screaming pedophile or something at you, and with the result that-
Actually, after, even after I left Paris and came back to England spent five years with a contract with The Observer magazine, which I had a great time. They were pretty good. Until came the moment when a financial guy decided that they wanted to keep copyright, and I'd always kept copyright during that five years, and that was me out of the door straight away because I never gave up. I've never given up copyright. Early on when I joined Magnum, there was a, another photographer traveling through Paris, I'd go and have a meal with them or coffee or something to... hoping to learn more about Magnum and life and work. And they were all terrific and one guy said, if you're in Israel on a Friday night, the best place to pick up a girl is so and that's a mix of advice, and some very practical. And then I got Elliott Erwitt, and he thought about it for a bit, and he said, "Never give up your copyright. Whatever you don't give up your copyright." that was probably the best bit of advice I've actually ever had. And luckily, that was at the start of my time at Magnum. So can't remember why I started rumbling on about that. You must have asked me something.
Tom: Yes, but let me pick up then about your book, "The English." What's, Ian, what's the most complicated part of capturing something uniquely English about the way that people behave without, in a way, making fun of them?
Ian: That's a good point. You can always... You could always photograph, the working class, middle class, okay, as long as your accent was okay. But the upper class, very difficult, unless there was a horse in the background. I got to them by going to horse events. and that was about it. But basically at that time, the Brits were okay. Sadly, they've changed But I guess probably everybody's changed, and I'm just more aware of it, being a Brit there's still a lot of good people, but a lot of them are not so good.
Tom: How long time you worked on the book, Ian?
Ian: Sorry
Tom: The English, how long time it took you to make the pictures?
Ian: Actually not that long. I should, in retrospect, I should have spent a lot more time. At the same time when I arrived I got this deal with The Observer and which got me around quite a bit and got me access to politicians and so forth. But luckily the Whitechapel Gallery, which at that time was a gallery for art-- painters, artists, sculptors, decided that Whitechapel is in a working class... then a working class area, and all the customers from outside of the area. So then curator of of the gallery thought it would be a good idea to have a photographic exhibition. So they invited me to photograph Whitechapel, and that got me into a lot of places, and so forth, that I would have had trouble getting into by myself. That with the Arts Council grant and doing stuff for The Observer Got me into some places which I would've had trouble. So I suppose I spent maybe four months on the book I don't believe in hanging about
Tom: But then your latest book, Ian, "Water," you spent longest three or four months on it
Ian: I've spent a lot of time on that. Partially because As ph-photojournalism has changed radically, and Magnum has changed radically, and I've got a little bit older. And so I had to do something to entertain myself, really. And I had been lucky in that at one point, a Spanish photographer, Delmi Alvarez invited me to join working with him on a book on Spanish fishermen,
Tom: Interesting.
Ian: On the Spanish fishing industry. Which was great, except that ironically they... When I came to Vigo, they invited me to dinner. The people organizing the book, backing it, if you like, inviting, invited me to dinner. And I was invited to this fish restaurant, and w-when I got there and they I didn't eat fish, I could see them looking at each other and thinking, "Why have we invited this crazy Englishman who doesn't even eat fish to do, work on this book for us?" they were nice about it. Anyway, During travels around the world, I've, a lot of... I've been most African countries and so on. seen a lot of the water problems and people suffering because of bad water. Not just in Africa, but in Central America, Mexico, other parts, Guatemala. And to start off, the UN invited me to go and do a shoot on all the Central American countries on the refugee camps that they were running for an exhibition at the UN building. They were going to have some sort of conference on refugees. And so I had quite a bit of And it had over the years started to fascinate me, the problems of water around the world, most people don't appreciate. And then I got an assignment to photograph Greenland, and I'd had photographed Alaska quite a bit. So really started work on it and spent a lot of time. I've got pictures in that book that I shot in India 15 years ago, and pictures that I shot a couple of years ago. I enjoyed doing it. It, I wasn't dependent on Magnum at all, and in fact, I wasn't dependent on anybody except myself. So it was rather an expensive shoot, but I think one worth doing
Tom: And quite a complicated also, I think, no, Ian? Because water shortage will be in a way easy to show in pictures, but there are other issues with water that might be very difficult to get over in a picture
Ian: Ah, don't tell me. What do you in America to illustrate how, apart from the obvious, how, farmers are using enormous amounts of water that whilst the city nearby has a lot of trouble with water? They are doing things. They are salinating seawater now. But I really... I don't think I got a really good picture of water in America. I spent time in New Orleans, and I sailed up and down the Mississippi and photographed Louisiana and so on. So I got quite good stuff on the French-speaking Louisiana fishermen and so forth. But not one great picture However it was worth doing, I think
Tom: Yeah, of course. Ian what's your connection with Bob Dylan? How did your photograph end up on the cover of this "Rough and Rowdy Ways" album?
Ian: Nothing to do with me at all. Our guy in New York had Bob Dylan apparently, I didn't know, had previously come to Magnum for photo- photographs for the cover of his, some of his previous records. And he, the same thing happened. He came to Magnum in New York, and our guy who deals with that sort of thing had this idea to show him these particular, this particular set of pictures which I had originally shot in in, in, in England when I was working for The Observer. To photograph this nightclub, which was essentially a black nightclub with a few white girls in there. And I thought, "This is going to be dodgy," so I went along I... it was in a basement. I walked down, and I looked around, and it was an all-black scene apart from half a dozen white girls. So I just thought, "What the hell?" Started to shoot. And actually, to start with, they were great. The Africans... they weren't Africans. They were West Indians, and, Were great. And I got some not bad stuff. Until as is always the case, there's always one guy. This one guy objected to me taking photographs. So I kinda thought, "I've got some quite good stuff. Time to leave." And they had crates of beer bottles, empties, at the bottom of the steps leading into the club. And as I started to go up the steps, the bottles started to follow me. And I got to the top, and there were more guys chucking bottles at me then But it was a pretty good shoot, and the guy in New York remembered it. And, Bob Dylan thought it would suit him. But I, to be honest, I've been interviewed by radio programs and, how passionate was I about Bob Dylan? And I'm pretty well turned deaf. I've no interest in music at all. And I'd heard of his name, of course, but Never never photographed him
Tom: Ian, this is a bit a letdown. I had hoped you had said that you had a few beers with him and he looked through your contact sheets
Ian: No, I've never met him. But I was very grateful both to him and the guy in Magnum who mentioned me.
Tom: Of course
Ian: Magnum has changed so much now that most of the people working there are young girls who obviously have no idea what anybody shot, years ago Which is, for me, rather sad. But that's life
Tom: You're the oldest member now there in Magnum, Ian?
Ian: I'm still a member, yeah. People of my age are either dead or they have become contributors. And as a contributor, you don't have to... If you sell a picture, you don't have to give a share to Magnum. It's very tempting But there are some, still some great photographers there
Tom: You have to set me up , with more talks . I will write you an email , to ask your help
Ian: Sure. Yeah. Yeah
Tom: Ian, so 92 now, what's one thing you're hopelessly bad at still now?
Ian: Hopelessly bad at
Tom: At 92
Ian: I'm still pretty awful at languages. I still mainly only use rangefinder Leicas and short lenses, so I regret it that I miss having a long lens.
Tom: Let's say cooking. You're a good cook, Ian?
Ian: I can boil an egg. That's about the limit. My wife was a cookery editor at one of the two magazines in this country still existing, so I'm well-fed without having to bother messing around with cooking. When we first met, I'd been working in Nigeria and God knows where, and the time of the Biafra wars, and sh- she was paid to go out and, eat in different restaurants and write about them. I, we would go out and after a few glasses of red wine, I would start being critical wasting money on food like this when people were starving in Biafra. I've never been a good drinker. And finally she gave up on me, taking me out to dinner. But but we married and I've lived ever since, so I'm lucky in that respect
Tom: Now you make me think when you talk about your wife, there was an assignment maybe you wanted to do, Ukraine, but one you tell you cannot run so fast anymore, and second, your wife doesn't let you go
Ian: Certainly I can't run as fast. That's very true. I don't know what the second one is.
Tom: No, the second one was that your wife would not let you go there, I think
Ian: Oh, yeah. I- it's like everything when you get older. I've ridden motorbikes all my life, and when I g- got to the middle 80s my wife got a little bit up with me riding motorbikes, which I was very sad about because when I was vice president in Paris, I could get from my home in London then to the office in Magnum office in Paris faster than either by plane or by boat, going by motorbike. Because th- those days they had the hovercraft, which was very fast, faster than the ferry, and you could always get on there with a... at any time with a motorbike. It's small, didn't need space. So I regretted that. I still regret that. It's the best way to get around
Tom: when you go to Tahiti, your wife will make the suitcase , so you don't forget the shorts
Ian: Yeah, I think so. She'll do the research It's interesting because it's a cargo boat and so it goes around that whole area. So it could be fun
Tom: Could be fun. I'm expecting a postcard, Ian
Ian: Yes. Yeah
Tom: Ian, this has been an absolute pleasure. Thank you for sharing your stories tonight with me. Your humor, I love you have a bit of good British humor and your reflections. And remember, if something happens and Tahiti doesn't go through, I want to see you here in 'Visa pour l'Image', and we can have a tea and you can show me your old contact sheets. That would be maybe a great time
Ian: I would love to do that. And as I said before, give my best to Jean-François
Tom: I will do. Ian, thanks so much again, it's been wonderful spending time with you, and I will see you, I will see you around
Ian: Yep. Thanks very much. Enjoyed it
Tom: No problem. I see you, Ian. Bye
Ian: Cheers
And that's a wrap for my conversation with Ian Berry.
Sometimes your biggest adventures don't always begin with a carefully laid-out plan. Sometimes they begin with a bit of curiosity and the courage to see where life takes you. Looking back, it's remarkable to think that the one decision he made as a teenager would eventually become more than six decades of photographing people, places, and history itself.
Whether he's telling stories about Henri Cartier-Bresson, photographing a conflict zone, riding motorbikes, or trying to find a decent hotel, there's always a quiet sense of humour and a genuine love for people behind it all.
If you'd like to see more of Ian's remarkable work, be sure to visit his website, pick up one of his wonderful books, and if you ever get the chance to see one of his exhibitions, don't miss it—you won't be disappointed. As always, all the links are in the show notes.
And of course folks, if you enjoyed this episode, have a look at our website and don't forget to subscribe, leave us a review, and follow us on any podcast platform or on YouTube.
Until next time, keep shooting and keep on moving your photography. I see you next week here for another wonderful conversation about photography and life… Adios.
