Steve Ford

Steve, would you mind introducing yourself?

Yeah. Hi. Good afternoon, Rich. Yes. Name's Steve Ford. I have a little company called Wise Dog Studios, and so I'm, focusing on, pardon the pun, photography and, do some portraits, headshots, and some event work, as well as running the occasional workshop.

Which I had the pleasure of attending, and it was fantastic. Thank you.

Thanks very much. And that was real fun despite the inclement weather. We managed to get some great images.

Yeah, I had to go and have a good nap afterwards for some reason. How did you first get into photography? What was the spark for you?

Been involved in—well, picked up a camera really, I guess, in my early teenage years at home. I was thinking about this, driving over this morning. And, I was a bit of a lonely child. Didn't make friends very easily. And, photography was a thing you could do on your own. It's not a team sport in any way, shape, or form. So, that enabled me to find my own little space. Then, as a late teenager, I joined the Royal Navy and traveled extensively. The ability to grab the camera and take some images as you traveled was just eye opening for me. It was a wonderful thing to do.

Was there a particular image you saw that made you think, "That's what I want to do"?

I don't think there was one particular image. I do remember being out with the tripod on freezing cold mornings in a national park close to where I lived, catching the ice and the sun and everything else that went with it. It was just a moment, as opposed to what I was taking a picture of. It was that place, that moment in time when you're on your own and everything's quiet. A little bit of bird sound going on. The world really hasn't woken up at that stage. It was just a neat place to be, for me.

And you've got quite an interesting background. You mentioned being in the Navy and being a bit of a loner, and I heard rumors of the punk thing. How do those worlds sort of work together and shape what you do?

Well, when you mention the word "rumors," I get the shivers because it reminds me of Fleetwood Mac.

I say rumors—you told me!

Yeah. Indeed. So I think I was at a very impressionable age, in the late seventies when punk rock came around. I'd grown up in a household where mom and dad really enjoyed their music. Dad was a bit of a teddy boy in his days at home in West Bromwich. Music was always on. And then punk rock came along, and it was just so different. It was not the polished, big hairdos kind of people that you'd seen on Top of the Pops. It was a combination of angry and strong messages that people were avoiding at the time. And this is the height of the Thatcher period. We lived in an area with a lot of coal mines, so the community was heavily affected. The music just resonated. My parents would go, "Music? Really? We call that music?" But it just had an energy with it that has lived with me ever since.

What bands are you most into?

Early Clash, The Stranglers, that sort of music. Later in life, I've developed a passion for the bass guitar. I own a bass guitar—I don't play it, but I own it. Bass guitar heroes would be people like Jean Jacques Burnel from The Stranglers, etc. We have this little game with friends, if you were given a golden ticket to any gig, it would be Joy Division/New Order. The work of Ian Curtis, his lyrics just really go deep within me. So much so, I've got some words tattooed on my arms from one of their songs, "Isolation."

I had the pleasure of seeing New Order at a Reading Festival.

Yeah.

Not long after...well, I don't know when, but I definitely ranked Joy Division more than New Order.

Yeah, absolutely. And Peter Hook, the bass player from Joy Division and New Order, tours with his own band and plays the Joy Division songs with a lot more passion and grit. They come across as highly polished on the albums, but when you hear him live, there's a real grit and angst to it.

How do you feel punk music may have influenced your artistic or aesthetic sensibilities with your photography?

I guess I'm looking for nonconformist. That's the right kind of term. One of the challenges with being part of a camera community is that there are quite tight rules around competitions, composition, and lighting. For me, it's all about the emotion, what's on display. The image might be slightly out of focus, but it could be a killer because it means something and there’s emotion there. Same with the music. So I guess the nonconformist—don't want to stick to the rule of thirds and all that—plays a bit of an edge on both sides.

Ironically, I find the punk aesthetic and mentality quite democratizing. It makes an art form accessible to everyone. It's not about technical mastery or if you can afford to buy the most expensive kit. It's like, can you see the spirit and the poetry in a photograph?

Absolutely. And it's the same with music. It may not be the flashiest guitar or drums, but you listen to the words and understand what's going on inside at that moment in time. That's the difference.

How does that all work with being in the navy as well?

Really good question. I grew up in a mining community—you were down the pit or off doing an apprenticeship. I didn't fancy either. We lived nowhere near the coast, but I had an uncle who was quite influential, ex-forces. The chance to get away from that small town and travel—I saw that as the thing, rather than the discipline. So, I guess a bit of escapism from what was happening around where I grew up.

Was West Bromwich where you grew up?

My father was from West Bromwich. But we lived in a little town called Retford, up on the A1. Had a great nightclub called the Porter House, saw many big bands come through as a warm-up gig. But it was a fairly dull place to live as a child.

Do you feel those influences early on have given you a bit of an outsider's perspective of your craft?

I'd like to think so. Again, not conforming to the rules. Later in life, before I left the UK, I worked for Apple UK, shortly after Steve Jobs had come back. We did things differently—maybe too differently, because the company almost went out of business. But now look at it. I like the underdog, that grit that was going around at that time.

Was that on Hagley Road in Birmingham?

No, actually, I worked at head office just outside London.

What did you do at Apple?

I was a sales manager for our large accounts team. We sold desktop publishing solutions to all the major newspapers and publishing houses. It was a time when we were struggling with Microsoft applications and hardware. Some of our larger customers were looking elsewhere. It was really dark days for Apple.

It's funny because I ended up buying an Apple computer because I was doing contract work for EMAP…

Yeah.

...and it just ended up that way. Anyway, let's toggle this up. Your work covers portraits and commercial shots. Is there any thought line or style that you'd like to take to these things?

Not necessarily a style. What I'm trying to do is find the real person. Like most people, I'm really awkward in front of the camera. I work hard to bring the real person out rather than just have them stand there and smile. Just spending some time with somebody, getting to know them, rather than just click-click, thank you, gone. It's not necessarily a style—more of a technique to really look for that little moment. It might be a fleeting second in an hour you spend with somebody, but that's what you're looking for. You don't want that stiff—just relax a little, but come across as professional.

Do you think your own awkwardness in front of the camera gives you empathy for your subjects?

Absolutely. It's changed over time. Back in the days of film, people would say, "Oh, you want to take my photo? That's fantastic." Today, it's, "You want to take my photo? Why?" Particularly with street photography. And I think that's the same with people in business today—why does it need to be a photo of me? It's about you and you as an individual. So yes, absolutely.

As a former designer, you can always tell when people have used stock photography—there's so many Kiwi businesses that just look like American businesses, and there's a fundamental difference.

I saw one yesterday where they'd used stock photography and flipped it the wrong way, so the iStock watermark was backwards. It's just—oh no.

What would you say makes one of your photographs recognizably yours?

That's an interesting question. I guess I've never looked at my images and thought, "That's my typical style." I like to be close to people, so I generally shoot quite close-up. I want to fill the frame with them. That's how I'd recognize my images. But having a thing that you map across everybody doesn't work for me; you've got to look at the individual and figure that out.

Would you say you're meticulous or more instinctive?

I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants kind of guy. I wish I was something completely different—it drives me nuts—but that's how I am.

I think that probably leaves you more open to witnessing what's happening and responding to it, though.

I believe so. My creative juices flow best at the eleventh hour. I'll never go Christmas shopping two months beforehand; it'll be two hours before stores close on Christmas Eve. If a presentation needs to be done in two months, it'll get done two minutes before the deadline. Having that tight deadline just makes the creative flow work—the barriers disappear. It might not be fantastic creative flow, but the barriers are gone, which is the main thing.

With photography, I often see photographers rush out and buy the most expensive gear and copious amounts of it. Is what makes a really great photo in the fancy gear, or is it in the person and the eye?

It's all about the gear. (laughs) No, not at all. I wish I could convince my partner otherwise. It's about having that eye, that observation at the end of the day, regardless of what device you have—phone, cheap Kodak Instamatic, or a $10,000 camera. It's about observation. Newer cameras come with a lot of technology that can get in the way. I'm a lover of Fujifilm cameras—they're basic, have bells and whistles, but you don't need them. They have a nice retro look and feel, and people often ask if I'm using a film camera. Using film also slows you down. In the age of digital, we keep thousands of images that mean nothing because it's easier than deleting them. In the days of film, you really took your time. So I try to teach: don't just pick up the camera and snap—observe first. Have a feel for what's going on, then interact with the camera. But convincing my partner I need that $10,000 camera is high on my priority list!

I've seen people make cameras out of scanners now—it's phenomenal.

There was a guy interviewed on a podcast from Exeter who was using things like blocks of cheese, putting holes in them, and shining the light through. Just yeah.

Have you ever taken a photo you thought was outstanding on a cheap piece of kit?

I'd need to go back and look. My all-time favorite image is the last photo I took of my mother, on Christmas Day 2020, with her new great grandson in her arms. The two are looking at each other—there's a connection, a hint of a smile on his face. He was about six months old. Mom passed away the following day. The lens or camera body is irrelevant—it's what that picture means to me, the emotion I see in that image. It's not 100% sharp. There's a lot of noise in it. But it's that moment in time that means everything to me. Expensive cameras do have benefits—if you want to do astrophotography, for example. But for basic capturing, anything goes.

The photograph you mentioned of your mother sounds like a work of poetry—it sounds beautiful.

The words on my arm from Joy Division are: "If you could just see the beauty, these things I could never describe." That image is everything to me—means a huge amount. It's that connection.

That's what Roland Barthes talks about in the book Camera Lucida—the punctum in a photograph that makes it. That's all in the eye and the heart, isn't it?

Absolutely. If I entered that image into 10 camera club competitions, it would probably be rejected nine times out of ten. People say, "Doesn't that devalue what it means to you?" It's not perfect, but it's a perfect moment.

Is it maybe because a lot of those things look at technical perfection rather than the mythopoetic approach?

Absolutely. They're looking for technique and adherence to camera norms, rather than looking at emotions.

Maybe what we need is a poetic camera competition.

I'm really up for that. Absolutely. Beautiful.

How has your relationship with photography developed over the years?

As a teenager, deep into it, joined the Royal Navy and became a ship's photographer. Then for about ten years, it really just didn't register—music and photography almost disappeared from my life. Then daughter number one appeared, closely followed by daughter number two. Capturing them growing up, particularly with family on the other side of the world, reignited my passion. In the last five years, it really took off. In 2013, I was buying a lot of Canon gear. In 2015, my partner Julie and I downsized to three filing boxes, sold most belongings, and hit the road. The Canon gear was going to weigh 25% of my backpack, so I switched to a more compact camera. We spent five years traveling and got back to New Zealand just in time for COVID. Since then, photography has played a major part in my life again.

What was the impetus for the world trip?

My youngest daughter went off to university. When Julie and I first met, she already had a passion to travel. I left home at 16, joined the navy, traveled, and don't consider any one place my hometown. We planned to travel for a couple of years—exited work, sold belongings, donated things, and hit the road. Then we discovered house sitting and pet sitting. Eighteen months to two years turned into over five years of travel. That helped keep costs down and let us embed in communities—seven months in Italy at one stage, photographing local life. It was a wonderful opportunity.

Did that reignite your love of street photography?

Absolutely. Everywhere we went, I'd search out markets, open-air cafés, squares, to really get a feel for what's going on. I believe in being up close with street photography, not standing far away with a big zoom. The smaller the lens, the better. Get in close, get amongst it, do it with a smile on your face, and you'll get smiles back.

Is there ever a time you've taken a shot and it's really surprised you?

No, I don't think so. There are a couple of images that bring back memories and mark a moment in time, but I'm not a believer in firing off 100 shots and hoping one will come through. If it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen. Sometimes you have to put the camera down and just experience what's around you.

Do you think being behind the lens changes your perspective, or does it get in the way?

It can, for sure. We started writing a travel blog as we moved around. Part of me wishes we were more organized and started it earlier, but then you go into towns and feel like you have to find the best cafés, take certain photos, etc.—sometimes you need to just experience it first. There are times when a camera can absolutely get in the way. Put it down, take a breath, and look around. Even closing your eyes and listening can hone your skills.

What advice would you give to a young person picking up a camera for the first time?

Just get out there and start doing it. That's one of the huge advantages of the digital age—you can hit the button, don't like it, delete. You haven't got to wait days for it to be developed. Get a cheap camera. Look for inspiration everywhere—around the house, on the street, at work, at school. Take a long look at photographers and artists of the past for inspiration. Start to look at light and how it changes. But more importantly, just do it—push that button, get out there, and get amongst it.

Where can people find your work?

wisedogstudios.com. You can also find me on Instagram at Wise Dog Studios. A lot of the stuff there is currently more commercial, but I'm building a personal portfolio. For travel, we used 2checkingout.com two people checking out of work and checking out other places.

Excellent. Well, thank you so much, Steve.

A pleasure, Rich. Thanks so much indeed.