The acclaimed food photographer’s new exhibition is inspired by Killarney National Park in Kerry …
How did you become a photographer? In the latter part of the 1960s, my father gave me my first camera, a Kodak Instamatic 133. He later gave me his own camera, a Ricoh of some sort with a leather case. It was quite special. He was a keen amateur photographer and he saw that I might develop an interest. In my early 20s, I left Dublin and went to live in London. I worked freelance as an assistant and started my own studio at 26, which was far too young and it was a real struggle, but adrenaline kept me going.
Do you have any muses? All young photographers admired Cartier Bresson, Andre Kertez, Irving Penn, Bill Brant – there are so many names of that time. Later on, I was influenced by European and American fashion photographers – Herb Rittz, Bruce Webber, Spanish photographer Javier Vallhonrat in the early days and Mexican photographer Enrique Badulescu. Many street photographers also, especially William Klein.
How would you describe your style of photography? These pictures of Killarney National Park developed as a bit of an accident. I went there initially to get a break from commercial photography and urban living. I started to take pictures in colour, but struggled with the results, so later switched to black and white. Photographing landscapes needs to be considered. I’m not sure it works ‘shooting from the hip’ which, ironically, is my true style and the moment in time that I find interesting. The early River Cottage books, in particular the first River Cottage Cook Book and Fork to Fork with Monty Don, show this approach.
How did you get into food photography? There’s been an obsession with cookery books for well over 30 years and there have been many food magazines established in the UK. Editors needed photographers, so I was available and willing. Harper Collins commissioning editor Richard Atkinson introduced me to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and together we created a grungy, unforgiving approach to foraging and self-sufficiency. Gutting a cuttle fish in the bath because it’s practical (not when you’re in it though) and showing a double-page picture of a whole pig’s ear on a plate with tartar sauce would not have been accepted in previous years and would not be today. The book could have flopped, but didn’t because it was honest and it became hugely successful. I enjoyed the whole experience.
Tell us about your new book and exhibition Wet Feet: I was persuaded by my friend and book designer Massimo Melloni to allow him to make a small book of my recent work, and to print some of the pictures. I started off photographing trees in Killarney National Park, but then realised that was only a small part of the 10,0000 hectares, so I needed to give the trees a sense of place. I’m delighted that Massimo and I marked this effort and, above all else, I hope that some people might enjoy the results.
What do you enjoy about it? It’s the process of what you set out to do – the challenge, focus, angst, disappointment, surprise and delight – and the fact that you never get close to what you had in mind. That’s the bit that I don’t like. When you look back at the contact sheets, you remember everything about how you were feeling at that time as a visual diary of your emotions. Why do we want to do this? I’ve no idea. If anyone finds out, let me know!
Do you have any advice for budding photographers? Somehow, you need to create your own voice and that takes time. In the world of visual saturation, a body of work on one subject is not something anyone can do, and that’s a way forward. It’s a hard road as a career, so find several markets instead of just one, and always be available.
Need to know: Wet Feet by Simon G Wheeler is on show at Killruddery Yard in Wicklow until June 14. @simonwheeler.eu @killruddery
