Pithed again..

Mike’s
Pith & Wind cont.
David Porter was at all the TF Much Ballrooms, he was at the Sunburys – in fact
David was at everything that was going on in this town. I think that was perhaps
what distinguished David from some of the other photographers of the era – he
was a fan. He was excited about what he was recording, he was involved, and
I think that’s why he was able to capture the essence of what was going
on in such an emblematic way.
His association with Spectrum is preserved on our double album Milesago produced
in 1971. The portraits of each of the band members are done in the typical Porter
style – i.e. the wide-angle lens, the dense blacks and high contrast
– but at the same time David managed to imbue a bunch of guys, who went out
of their way to look daggy and ordinary, with a sense of drama and romance.
One sunny day back in the ’70s, David breathlessly took us out to the outskirts
of Kyneton to realise an image of Spectrum that he was excited about. I’m
not sure if it was an ongoing project or just one of his whims, but we took
all the band’s gear out of the Transit, set it up in front of this picturesque
abandoned bluestone mill, were duly photographed, had a bit of a picnic, packed
everything up again and went home. I’m still none the wiser, but I think
it exemplifies the feeling of mutual respect and cooperation that existed between
us. Mind you, I think there might have been some hooch involved too…(Bill
tells me it was actually hashish..)
Earlier this year I was astonished to receive an e-mail out of the blue from
David. I hadn’t heard from or about him in more than three decades. The
last I knew was that he was leading a dull life as a teacher in Bacchus Marsh.
Not true. I discovered David was in fact leading a dull life as a teacher in
the Blue Mountains.
As a result of our subsequent e-mail correspondence I now have some of David’s
photos on our website (wp.mikeruddbillputt.com/), and we decided to meet when David
came down to Melbourne. In April Bill and I duly met with David in Lygon St
with a mutual cyber acquaintance Ron Govett. David told us that he’d had
an epiphany and a car accident (I’m not sure in which order), which led
to his putting this exhibition together in exquisite pain.
That’s suffering for your art I guess, but I think we should all be grateful
that David Porter aka Jacques L’Affrique, ably abetted by the
Penrith Regional Gallery, The Lewers Bequest and Rachel here at the Manningham
Gallery, took the trouble to present this attractive looking bit of all our
lives. Apart fom anything else, it proves to our young detractors that we were
indeed young once, and equally, if not more stupid than they are.
But we had an excuse. We were trailblazers; we were pioneers without a compass,
we were writing the script as we went, and, above all, we were cock-eyed optimists.
I don’t think those times will ever happen again and I think we were extremely
lucky to have been there and done that. We were also lucky that David was inevitably,
relentlessly and enthusiastically recording events and capturing something of
the bold, if possibly largely delusional temper of the times.
Unreal Rock is showing at the Manningham Gallery till Sept. 11