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St GILES, LONDON, 2003 [Fig. 1]
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, 2002 Sack is intrigued by the symbols of cities, like painted arrows, which by their apparent giant size here assume added significance
SMITHFIELD, LONDON, 1999 [Fig. 2]
GREENWICH, LONDON, 1991 [Fig. 3]
CITY OF LONDON, 2002 Sack's somewhat bleak view of cities is reinforced here by the brutal architecture
CANARY WHARF, LONDON, 2002
SHOREDITCH, LONDON, 2002 Two abutting posters give the appearance of a three-dimensional scene
HIGHAM, KENT, 1995 Sack says, 'Even rural pictures have a strong geometric design about them.' Here he has divided an unassuming landscape into squares.
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Nicholas Sack photographer
URBAN MYTHS
Amateur Photographer, 1 January 2005 IPC Media, London Nicholas Sack's photographs are full of visual tricks and elements that make you look twice. Sarah Jackson talks to him about his work and how he tackled the business of self-publishing
'I am celebrating the fact that real life, in unmanipulated images, can look very odd,' says Nicholas Sack, a London-based professional photographer, about his shots of the urban environment. Specialising in corporate photography, in his spare time he likes nothing better than to roam around the streets of London, camera in hand. His new book, 'Uncommon Ground', is full of such pictures. Sack utilises the special features of urban surroundings - the mass of straight lines formed by things like tall buildings, cranes, road markings, barriers and fences. 'Billboards are always fun because there is scope for confusion,' he says. There is menace, too, in some of his pictures, like the one featuring a large-scale poster, reinforced by the black sky and towering building [Fig. 1]. In one shot, an alarmingly solid, arrow-shaped shadow seems ready to engulf an unsuspecting passer-by. Another shot poses questions about the identity of a woman, only her back visible - and what about the seemingly tiny figure of a man, just glimpsed through the doorway? Is he real? Is he inside the building, or reflected? Is the woman following him [Fig. 2]? This is one of what Sack refers to as his 'tiny urban dramas' that were recorded purely by chance. Other pictures, though, are a matter of previsualisation and patience. For shots like the woman dwarfed by giant arrows, or the circular walkway with a man forming the perfect focal point [Fig. 3], Sack could see the potential for a picture. He explains, 'I treat the streets as stage sets or tableaux that are waiting for choreographies to happen ... Using a 35mm SLR, you can't see the moment of exposure, so there is a degree of anticipation.' When the man appeared, it was fortuitous for the composition that the object he was carrying bore an uncanny resemblance to a gun. This hanging around, waiting for pictures to unfold, has occasionally got Sack into trouble with security guards, especially in corporate districts like London's Canary Wharf and Broadgate. His strategy is to try to look like a tourist with a camera rather than a professional photographer. He travels light, carrying just a Nikon F3 or FE, normally fitted with a 35mm lens - a good compromise between the standard 50mm and the wider 24mm or 28mm, which he finds can sometimes distort just that bit too much. Film is Ilford Delta 100, which he prefers over FP4 Plus as it shows less grain. Sack says he was a late starter in photography, not picking up a camera until his mid-20s. Studying Transport Planning at Aston University in the early 1980s, Sack found himself fascinated with the appearance of decaying inner-city Birmingham - which was several years before the city was regenerated and the Bull Ring pulled down. 'It had marvellous industrial areas full of atmosphere,' he says. He became aware of the work of master photographers, especially Lee Friedlander, Harry Callahan, and the neglected British photographer Raymond Moore, and his photographic education consisted of reading monographs on photographers. Starting to carry out freelance assignments for magazines when he should have been doing his university studies, he eventually became a full-time photographer, working on corporate assignments. At the same time, Sack was amassing his own personal portfolio of pictures shot in London and elsewhere. Although he likes the idea of exhibitions (and, indeed, he has held 13 himself), Sack thinks that books are 'a lovely medium' for photographs. 'You can go back to a book and look at it at your leisure,' he says. Like many photographers, he had always wanted to bring out a book devoted to his own work, and he realised that the best way to do it would be to self-publish - quite a daunting prospect for someone who had no experience in that field. What's more, he resolved to do the editing, design and distribution himself. Gathering material for a book is not just a matter of selecting your best pictures. Sack wanted his book to be a showcase of his work and to indicate the range of his photography (hence its 81 shots also include commissioned portraits and some rural scenes). As he points out, you have to think about such factors as ensuring a consistency of design, and if you are including text, how different typefaces affect line breaks - get it wrong and your book could look ugly. Once you have chosen the pictures, decided their order and designed the pages, you need a printer. Finding the right one, and ensuring they understand what you want, is crucial. Many people who self-publish get it wrong, ending up with a book where the reproduction doesn't do the pictures justice. Sack's printer, based in London, was recommended by one of his artist friends. Sack could have had the book printed in Italy, which would have been cheaper, but he liked the fact that the firm was close at hand, and he even got to watch the sheets as they came off the press. 'It was very nerve-racking,' he admits. 'They thundered out at about two per second.' The pictures were printed as duotones, which involves adding a subtle colour to the black & white images and can add a certain richness to the appearance. To convey to the printer the effect he was after, Sack showed him other photographic books he liked. Sack decided to handle the distribution himself, at least in central London. With no previous experience it was, again, a daunting prospect, but not as bad as he'd anticipated. It entailed ringing book buyers and showing the book to them in person. To his delight, 'Uncommon Ground' was welcomed enthusiastically and at the time of writing he has had it accepted by around 20 major photographic book outlets in the capital - including a window display in Waterstone's Covent Garden branch. So far, the Photographers' Gallery has re-ordered the book twice.
Sack had 1,000 books printed, and to break even he has to sell a few hundred copies. After a financial outlay in the thousands of pounds and a few anxious moments, would he do it again? The answer is unequivocal. 'Aside from financial considerations, it's a great part of your visual education,' he says enthusiastically.' [The book] was a process of adventure and discovery, so it was enjoyable.' In fact, he's planning another one already.
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