Norman Seeff explains his celebrity photographs, from Tina Turner to the Rolling StonesThe photographer tells the stories behind his famous shoots as his work goes on display in London
Ike and Tina Turner
Norman SeeffThere are photographs of Ike and Tina Turner taken the year before she left him that seem to cut to the core of their abusive relationship. Tina, in a floaty top with big hair and glossy lips, works the camera, but snatches alternately watchful and indulgent glances at her husband. Ike, stiffer in a double-breasted suit, tie, bowler hat and octagonal spectacles, glowers or looks enraptured by her. The session changed the life of the man who took the pictures, but it wasn’t the photographs that did it. It was the film he shot while taking them.
Norman Seeff was already well established as a leading music industry photographer with a portfolio that included classic shots of Patti Smith, the Band, the Rolling Stones, the Eagles, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon and Kiss as well as non-musicians such as Robert Mapplethorpe, Andy Warhol and Steve Martin. Some of those shots, with later images of Blondie, Ray Charles and Johnny Cash, feature in Sessions in Sound, the exhibition of Seeff’s work at the Proud Central gallery in London that starts on Friday.
Robert Mapplethorpe and Patti Smith
Norman SeeffYet Seeff, 79, was always hungry to do more than just take pictures: he wanted to capture creativity in action. His studio sessions on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles were like parties, attended by up to 200 guests, and for the first time that day in 1975 he had instructed his staff to film the proceedings.
Shooting the Turners was electrifying, Seeff says, sitting in his quiet new studio in the rather more sedate part of Los Angeles where he works now. He is wearing faded jeans and a loose striped grey shirt with no collar. His silver hair, thinning on top, hangs to his shoulders. There are deep bags under his searching blue eyes.
In a soft South African accent he explains that he could tell that there was an “edge” to the Turners’ rapport, but he didn’t understand it until years later, when he worked with them separately. What he could observe was their explosive spontaneity. Tina in particular generated an intensity like a “nuclear reactor”. You could see them “actually giving each other instructions” as they performed a song together. You could also see how the creative tension between them was undergirded by something more sinister.
When Seeff developed the footage he was stunned by the intimacy with which it depicted their partnership. “When he feels she’s out of control he grabs her hand,” he says. “He crushes her knuckles, he hurts her. Then the next minute he’s kissing her with such passion you can see that he loves her completely.
“You can see that he’s in this duality of ‘I’m the tough man, in control’, but at the same time ‘I’m terrified of loss’. All of those dynamics come out. I knew in that moment exactly what I was going to do from then on.”
Since then Seeff has filmed his photoshoots with everyone from Fleetwood Mac to Martin Scorsese and Steve Jobs. He has evolved into “an explorer of the creative process” and compiled, at great personal cost, an archive of thousands of hours of conversations with and performances by some of the most creative people on the planet. The $10 million he has ploughed into the project has meant that despite huge success in his field he has essentially “lived without money” for decades. So far almost none of this archive has seen the light of day.
Mick Jagger
Norman SeeffSeeff took an unconventional path to the summit of the music industry. Growing up in Johannesburg, he excelled at sport, but also painted, drew and wrote poetry. He felt uncomfortable in the emotionally suppressed, controlling society of white South Africa, but did not understand why. “I was very good at everything, but because of the world I lived in I felt like a stranger in a strange land, like there was something wrong with me.” He became cynical and despairing. “I didn’t know there was another way to think.”
Turning down the chance of a career as a footballer, he followed his father into medicine and worked as a trauma specialist in Soweto. There he saw first-hand the “madness” of life under apartheid. “If you were in the hospital and a black man was dying and you only had blood from a white person, you were not allowed to give them the blood. If a white person was in an accident, they would rather die than have blood from a black person.”
Like most of his friends Seeff was involved in underground resistance to the regime. For a time he ran a safe house. Years later one of the fugitives from the secret police that he sheltered became defence minister under Nelson Mandela.
Unlike most of his friends Seeff objected to violent actions. Even before their network was infiltrated and people started getting arrested, he found himself searching for a way to live without perpetuating the power dynamics around him.
One morning, when Seeff was 29, he woke up and decided to leave. He resigned from his job, packed a single bag and bought a one-way ticket to New York. “I was very clear that America was the land of freedom — at that time,” he says, letting out a deliberate chuckle.
Keith Richards
Norman SeeffSeeff had planned initially to be a painter and sculptor, but by the time he arrived in New York he was set on photography. He landed in December 1968 “in the midst of the worst snowstorm in decades, a garbage strike and a time when people didn’t have to pick up after their dogs”. There were piles of filthy, stinking black snow everywhere. “I came here thinking that everybody had two helicopters in their garage, and I was shocked.
“My game plan was adolescent hubris. Thinking, ‘I can do anything, I’ll survive anywhere. I’ll just walk into New York and survive.’ I didn’t realise that I’d walk into a place where there are 100,000 people all trying to do the same thing and they all have studios and agents and managers.”
His rudimentary technical skills were no handicap, but he realised to his horror that he needed more than just his strong aesthetic sense to deliver the photographs he aspired to. “I wanted people to be present and wanted people to look as if they’re inspired and alive and breathing. The shock was that that doesn’t happen automatically. You have to engage people. You need to learn how to inspire people so that they look at you a certain way.”
Ray Charles
Norman SeeffIn six weeks his savings ran out. “I spent a year almost on the street, not getting work. It was a tough time. I went into terrible self-doubt.” He was saved by his talent, charm and good luck. Seeff’s roommate, the only person he knew when he arrived, introduced him to the club Max’s Kansas City, where he met and befriended the singer Patti Smith and the photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, her boyfriend at the time. Andy Warhol’s Factory was across the street and Seeff got to know and photograph Warhol and his entourage. Roving the streets, he forced himself to find a new subject every day.
Eventually painters that he knew introduced him to the album cover designer Bob Cato, who gave him his first proper job: photographing the Band. Driving in America for the first time, in a borrowed car, Seeff got lost and arrived for the shoot two hours late. The Band were furious. After 45 minutes he ran out of film and drove home distraught. He was so embarrassed by the results that he put the one image he could stand in an envelope and pushed it under the door of Cato’s house rather than hand it to him. That image became a wraparound poster sold with the Band’s album Stage Fright and Seeff’s career took off.
Blondie
Norman SeeffIn 1971 Seeff relocated to Los Angeles to design LPs and posters for United Artists Records. Two years later he struck out on his own at the Sunset Boulevard studio. One of his most celebrated projects was the design for the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St album, which involved a drunken photoshoot that did not start until midnight. Seeff’s pictures of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards are definitive documents of the period. “I saw Keith coming in almost holding on to the wall and realised that he was loaded, but the beautiful part is that Mick is incredibly organised and completely together,” he says. “They are such pros it doesn’t matter if Keith is loaded. Mick is the guy that did everything. He made the choices.”
Typically, he found, “people really don’t like being photographed. They feel objectified. They often have a lot of self-judgment.” Sitters responded by being hostile, silent or constantly telling jokes, “so there’s no person there”. Or by tranquillising themselves with alcohol and drugs. Some, like the singer and pianist Dr John, turned up so high on heroin that they were “almost impossible to reach”.
Seeff also drank and took drugs to conquer his nerves, but eventually he learnt the disarming power of vulnerability — allowing the subject to see his anxiety. Fear, he realised, was actually “a compass” leading the artist towards the unknown. “I started saying to people, ‘If you’re not scared, you’re not stepping beyond your boundaries.’ ”
Joni Mitchell
Norman SeeffHe quit drugs “right before the session with Fleetwood Mac, which was the wrong time to stop because they got completely f***ed up”. By then a clean-living, yoga-pants-wearing vegetarian, he “felt like a kindergarten teacher trying to corral a bunch of children”.
Ray Charles, seven years later, was surly and impatient, saying, “Let’s get this thing over,” but by finding the right level to engage with him Seeff turned the session around and caught him “in a state of absolute spontaneous, ecstatic expression”. He photographed the musician as he was playing piano and “taking our conversation and creating his lyrics and composing right there”.
It’s this sense of intimacy that Seeff hopes to share with the world, if he can get the funding to develop his film archive, which is in a climate-controlled vault beneath Los Angeles. He dreams of turning it into a multi-platform resource, including TV series, a web channel, workshops, live shows and virtual-reality experiences. “People are saying to me, ‘You have a national treasure and it’s time to get it out.’ ”
Do you want to make some money now then? “Oh, I’ve got to. But making money is a very creative art form.”
Sessions in Sound: Photographs by Norman Seeff is at Proud Central, London WC2 from November 23
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