In which NATHAN ZENO gets to grips with the rarefied world of Cape Town models and their photographers
1. A picture …
(in which Nathan tries to understand the reality of being a fashion photographer in South Africa)
It’s not so much that the standard of fashion photography in South Africa is bad, it’s just not that simple. As photographer Jean-Marc Lederman says: “In order to take a beautiful photograph, you must have beautiful clothes – the first problem – and then, well, models are also not so easy. Look at the magazine covers last month. The same girl. It’s always the same girls.”
The thing is, he says, is that if you come up with an original angle the magazines are afraid to take the risk; the need to sell copies.
Malcolm Kluk, a fashion editor at Cosmopolitan, says: “I don’t like to take risks, I like to stick with the people I know. That way I know what I’m getting. What I’m after is very specific and I will not take risks unless I am 100% certain they’ll pay off.”
Alexa Singer, model-turned-photographer, now doing editorial photo work for Cosmo – (when I try to get her number from someone in the industry who thinks I’m doing a piece on models, I am greeted with: “Oooh, why’d you want to speak to her? She’s so past it, she’s gone all post-grunge.”) – feels that, unlike most other countries where photographers get better with age, the moment SA photographers start getting solid work they slack off and lose their edge.
“But it’s so political,” says Jean-Marc, “They’re not interested in your book. If you take it round they don’t even look. It’s all politics.”
Bruce Granville-Matthews works mainly in advertising now, as well as producing work “for himself”. A couple of years back he got involved in a political wrangle (which is “adolescent and not worth mentioning”) and found the work dropping off. Then after another incident the work seemed to stop. “It’s probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”
He took a job as a doorman at the Funktion and now finds himself “constantly inspired. I’m there on the street and the work is my best ever, I’m surrounded by younger people and I have to challenge myself. I really don’t care if no one sees it, at least I don’t have to compromise”.
Bruce had a small exhibition at an even smaller gallery at the end of last year and is talking to a bigger gallery about a bigger exhibition later this year. He talks about beauty and inspiration and his language is free of the words “client” and “advertorial”.
Says Jean-Marc: “Catalogues and commercials in this country are bullshit. Even now the internationals are starting to use local photographers for their catalogues and they at least care a little – not too much – but a little. Anyway it’s not good enough just to work for the client, it will break your spirit.”
2. … is worth …
(in which Nathan gets to grips with the maths)
Summer started late; nothing but horrible weather in Cape Town until mid-December. But there were fewer foreign fashion catalogue teams sitting cursing in hotel rooms. So few that some people began to panic. Traditionally, the catalogue season starts as early as October, but with internationals catching onto the unpredictability of the weather here, Germans with cameras have been thin on the ground.
Some people blame the weather, some even Pagad – but costs also rose. In the past South Africa was 45% cheaper than anywhere else. It’s now down to about 20%. That, coupled with unpredictable weather in the crucial catalogue months and the fact that we are so far away, means that South Africa could start becoming less attractive as an international location.
There is now a body, the South African Association of Stills Photographers (SAASP) that is trying to regulate rates. By raising them they are more likely to attract international models and in turn more international teams. It also means that local girls’ rates are going up, “and therein lies a danger,” says Jean-Marc.
“A SA girl does a shoot in Germany or wherever and she gets a German rate. She comes back here, commands the same rate, but is no longer in Germany. I am from France but I don’t charge French rates. We should be careful. A big part of the reason they come here is because our top models are cheaper than anywhere else.”
Paul Upton of ICE Models and chair of the SAASP feels that the price gap is closing and with our infrastructures still not up to scratch, we should be careful. There has to be some sort of incentive to make that plane ride bearable.
In mid season in Cape Town it is impossible to hire a minibus at short notice, and a hell of a lot of other things. While Upton is confident the industry is growing and could expand to four times its current size, he’s worried the city may not be able to handle it.
Is Cape stills production down?
No, not with 19 registered production companies booked for the next three months as opposed to only nine last season. “Capetonians are so prone to premature ejaculation,” says Granville-Matthews. “The internationals aren’t stupid, they’ve been here before.”
Paul West of Boss Models: “The fashion business is very internal, it has its own workings. For some reason Cape Town is hot right now on the world itinerary.”
3. … a thousand words.
(in which it all comes together and makes sense)
I am invited in to The Model Company without question. At first I think these people – her booker, the photographer, the magazine editor – are very trusting. But while I am waiting it dawns on me that I am merely not important enough to be feared. And then she walks in the room.
“This is Tanya, Tanya Finch.”
Yes, she is at first glance gorgeous. But then I realise she is gorgeous because she is about to be photographed, because she has to be, because at that moment everyone in that room is there for her and depends on her. No. Maybe I phrased that wrong: no one is desperate – it would ruin their afternoon. If you were to take her out of context, she may even be ordinary looking, but in this industry context is very important.
Five people step out into the sunlight to take a photo. They are standing on a main road. Tanya is against a pink wall. Cars slow down. A Kombi slows down. In it is another “team” – photographer, models, assistants, two separate microcosms in one big business briefly almost collide. “Looks like they’re off to do some catalogue work,” someone says. How do they know ? The amount of clothes in the back. Like crack military teams they all head off into the light, to produce perhaps one small moment of beauty that will perhaps make you stop for an instant and go “wow”. It’s that small. It makes otherwise intelligent women a little crazy; it makes men in general a little crazy. It’s a crazy business.
She is 17. She reminds me sometimes of Bjork in the Sugarcube years. Some people think she is getting fat. It’s a slanderous business. The photographer calls her “a true professional”. He refers to her as “Finch”. Then sometimes she reminds me of Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver. Is it wrong that she left school to pursue a career ?
Look at it this way: she could study and apply for a job and never get it. She has taken her life into her own hands. She suffers jealousy from others similar to that gifted children do.
“What I love most is the travel. I’m lucky to travel.” Yes, she is lucky. “It’s this opportunity I’d be stupid not to take.” She tells me she doesn’t have any model friends really; that she finds them a little “much”. The usual model nightclubs remind her of morgues. Doesn’t she mean meat markets? “No, morgues.” She is down-to- earth.
Her first job was at 12. Think of it – 12. When I first ask her her age, and recoil slightly by it (thinking “that’s so young”), she notices my slight shock, blushes: “Yeah, I’m getting old. I see the new girls now. They’re 11 or 12 and I remember how naive I was then.” She will, she says, stop modelling eventually and get a job in the industry. She says “industry” as if there are no others. There is only Fashion or Fashion and Beauty – it’s what she knows.
After nearly an hour in make-up (during which she is perfectly still, head at perfect angle, hardly ever coming up for air), finding the right location, finding the right light, finding the right angle, a million adjustments – the photographer finally lines her up. Everyone is in place, Tanya’s eyes are shut. A moment of stillness.
“Ak-shin” whispers the photographer. Yes, action, just action. There is no “make love to the camera” here. It’s not like that. Tanya does not need to make love to the camera. Let me repeat: out of context she would be ordinary looking. And again, nearly three-quarters-of-an-hour in make- up. Tanya Finch is professional. Don’t try this at home without correct professional supervision.
The rhythm of the camera as it clicks and whirrs. She knows instinctively when the shutter is open, her eyes open and close, position changes slightly. All the clatter beforehand stops. There is awe (or maybe patience).We are watching a career girl at work, a professional. If I watch from the wrong angle her movements are alien – neck slightly outstretched, eyes opening and closing like a baby bird.
Before the photo is taken, a Polaroid is passed around. Everyone scrutinises it closely, looking to see if their roles in this drama have made a difference. It comes to me. “Isn’t it beautiful?” the make-up artist asks. I look at it. It is a photograph of Tanya Finch, of course it is.
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