Art for the Arts Thomas O Connell Sean So
South ean O'Connell adds his proper name to a list of photographers fascinated by life in the north of England. Tony Ray-Jones was poking his lens around northern beaches in the 60s, snapping unsuspecting sunbathers in Scarborough and Blackpool. By the 70s, Martin Parr was at it, too, trawling W Yorkshire for quirky incidents that made up his series The Not-Conformists, and Tom Wood was riding the bus across Liverpool shooting the glazed expressions of those patiently pending their destinations. The divergence with O'Connell is that he is not an outsider. Built-in and bred in Barnsley, he turns his photographic camera on a community of which he is a part.
With a caste from Leeds Higher of Art ("biggest mistake of my life"), a commission from Burberry ("tight fuckers, I had to haggle with 'em") and several grand Instagram followers, O'Connell presents his get-go solo exhibition at the Civic, Barnsley.
For the past five years, he has captured life in Barnsley and other Yorkshire locations in all their gritty and gorgeous detail. Blackness-and-white movie photographs of kids dragging scooters through puddles, bikes speeding past tightly packed terraces and teenagers sitting beneath bridges all make it into O'Connell's Broth Tarn project (and corresponding Instagram business relationship). And then called because "tarn" means "town" and considering "broth" is "a daft joke me and my mates came up with when we were camping. Someone had a tin can of beefiness goop and it looked rank, then we started calling everything that was a bit shit 'broth'."
Familiarity with his subjects gives him access to the virtually private of moments. When Parr is exterior in the community, spotting a suited human being balancing on one human foot on a ladder or observing the fine hats at an anniversary tea at the local Methodist chapel, O'Connell is inside at habitation watching elderly women curling their hair and a neighbor sweeping the street. In a particularly tender photograph, he shoots a portrait of his grandmother eating breakfast, advisedly lifting the spoon to her mouth. On the wall is a mirror and we catch a glimpse of the photographer, so naturally part of the scene.
O'Connell's inherent understanding of the people and places of Yorkshire translates into an intuitive sharpness in his manner photography. An paradigm captured from above, of a man smoking in his back yard, reflects a similar bending in a Burberry shot where a young man reclines on a deckchair with a copy of the Barnsley Chronicle. In both instances we assume the moving-picture show is taken from an upstairs window, which creates a closeness between photographer and subject, as if a neighbor had just popped their caput out to have a quick conversation.
In the principal gallery at the Civic, another exhibition North: Fashioning Identity reveals the trend for fashion photographers to travel north to find "real life", urban settings to juxtapose with their high-terminate garments. Having spent fourth dimension with O'Connell'southward sensitive and carefully curated Burberry photos of friends in areas he regularly frequents, Corinne Twenty-four hours'due south description of shooting Kate Moss in a "grotty erstwhile bedsit" in Blackpool – or the "poor man's Vegas" as Day called information technology – all of a sudden feels grotesque.
In response to the style exhibition, O'Connell has also erected three mannequins wearing grubby vests and Adidas tracksuit bottoms – all of which he has worn while labouring. They stand in dissimilarity to the collection of express edition Adidas jackets and trainers in North: Fashioning Identity, where a polite sign reads: "Please do non affect." Evidently, there is a difference between clothes inspired by the due north and clothes worn past northerners.
A immature photographer, O'Connell's clarity of expression is still a little evasive. There is a bit of everything hither; some Cartier-Bresson-similar decisive moments, some highly stylised fence leaning, some surrealist smoke over high-sounding angles, some crisp, vivid street work and shadowy, soft domestic scenes. Although each epitome has something interesting to say, together they run the risk of talking over one other.
Nonetheless, at that place are real sparks of brilliance in them. Wheeling around Barnsley on a BMX has provided O'Connell's greatest source material. He uncovers life as information technology happens: a fight breaks out, a autobus driver nods off over the wheel at a jitney end, a couple of teenagers slouch upwards against a graffitied wall, smile and smoking. Familiarity does not brood contempt, but curiosity. This is a celebration of life in all its forms – dazzling or drab – which can be explained by O'Connell'south affection for Barnsley.
"I used to hate Barnsley growing up, couldn't wait to leave," he recalls. "Now I'm dorsum and I'm mad for it."
Sean O'Connell: Goop Tarn is at the Civic, Barnsley, until 25 January.
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/nov/25/sean-oconnell-broth-tarn-review-the-civic-barnsley-photography-north-of-england
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