“Grafters” exhibition, People’s History Museum, Manchester - Visited 15th July 2016

This is an exhibition of over 120 photographs of workers taken from Northern industrial archives. Curated by Ian Beesley and with poetry by Ian McMillan, it seeks to investigate the representation of the worker during the heyday of Northern industry. McMillan’s poetry aims to give a voice to the workers. This exhibition clearly relates to my own visual research around Northernness, but I discovered some surprises in there, too.

William Fox Talbot had invented “photogenic drawing” in 1837 and it was seen as a continuation of fine art, rather than a documentary tool. Initially, therefore, workers were not seen as acceptable subject matter. Within three decades photography had become more popular and by the end of the 19th century it was being used to document industry. The exhibition uses images from 1865 to 2008.

The subject matter is varied although all working class; pit brow lasses, railway cleaners, the Manchester Ship Canal being dug by hand, and of course images of my much-loved engineering works. Many of the photographs are “staged” and there is a commentary running through of the workers’ manipulation, not only in the photographs, but in their working lives too (so nothing’s changed there, then!). An example is of a group of Lancashire & Yorkshire Railway cleaners kneeling and standing on their engine, cloths poised in mid-air, like some kind of bizarre train-based choreography.
Cleaners (posing in a military style picture), Lancashire &Yorkshire Railway, 1917
 
Whilst photography was used to document and advertise products and process, I can see that it is evident that the role of the photographer could be akin to that of the factory (or industry) owner. The worker is subject, both in the photograph and in the sense of being a subject in the factory owner’s fiefdom. The worker is also being told what to do by the photographer for the purpose of the photograph – the photographer is the boss. Group photographs of workers, posed in military style, also point to an idea of “rank” within the workforce.

Armature for alternator
The images showed up some beautiful shapes, particularly this armature and even the grand slam bomb (although I am not entirely comfortable with liking the shape of a bomb). This kind of heavy industry connects with something deep inside me.  I could see them making up into really interesting abstracts. Another project for the future!

One of the surprises is the Oldham Panoramic, taken in 1876 by Squire Knott. It’s a panoramic view formed of 9 images that he took from the roof of a mill during the Wakes week, so that the view wasn’t spoilt by smoke from the chimneys (so again, the workers were silenced). The sheer scale of the industrialisation and the number of chimneys was immense. I didn’t realise that photography or industrialisation were so advanced by that time. It’s a sobering thought that not much longer than a century later, most of it had gone.

Another surprise was that police “mugshots” were in use as early as 1865. What then formed a record of shame now forms a startling record of poverty and despair, etched on the faces of the so-called criminals.

Mc Millan’s poetry seeks to give voice to the anonymous workers and it works well. However, I felt that in taking this curatorial decision, something has been (perhaps intentionally) overlooked – the sense of community. There are a couple of photographs by Jack Hulme, who documented daily life in Fryston, a pit village near Leeds.  Some of his subjects are named in the images’ titles, in contrast to many of the other photographs on display. Although the workers might be voiceless in many of the photographs, they are (were) human beings who lived in a society that had a shared sense of purpose and of community.

Something else I identified was the idea of the power of industry and therefore of the photographs as a display of the power of the upper class. This resonates with some of the inter-war years railway travel posters, the so-called heyday of the railway poster. I’m really interested in these posters because of their colour and composition, but let’s not forget that they are also advertising propaganda. Some of the posters show images of industry which underline the power of the railway company directors. Similarly, some of the images of smoking chimneys and mills at night might seem admirable to the upper class, although they are not interested in what is within.

Is there also a kind of power, though, of the worker who is being paid for making something with his or her hands? De-industrialisation has removed this to a large extent. Does this matter? We may well find it does, now we are heading towards Brexit.

Beesley comments in the exhibition catalogue (2016, n.p.), that as industry declined, documentary photographers went North to document industrial ruins and unemployment, contributing to the stereotype of the North. His comment made me wonder if I am looking for a stereotypical North. I can only analyse this as saying that the decline of industry happened, and I personally felt its effects, regardless of who documented it for whatever reason. The industry his exhibition depicts is more or less gone.

Nearly all the photographs are black & white, even though colour film was available during the time that some of them were taken. I took this to signify the past, that which is past, that which will never be again. It tied in with my own use of black and white imagery from the Armley urban wandering, and with my current nascent thoughts on colour. An example is Beesley’s own photographs of the closure of McCormick’s Tractor Factory in Doncaster in 2008. One further interesting point is that he asked the workers at that factory to direct him to as how they wanted to be pictured – overtly giving them a voice, and breaking with the perspective shown in many of the other photographs.

One final comment is that I expected to find a picture of one of my family (I didn’t!), the subject matter was so familiar. I suppose I am romanticising it and re-purposing my memories, but the whole exhibition really struck a chord with me.

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