He’s best known for the Sunbaker, but one chapter of photographer Max Dupain’s life remains largely forgotten

He’s best known for the Sunbaker, but one chapter of photographer Max Dupain’s life remains largely forgotten

It was a single black-and-white image of a young man lying on an Australian beach that defined the career of photographer Max Dupain.    

But two years before the Sunbaker was captured in 1937, the Sydney-born artist agreed to an assignment that led him far from the beaches and into the heart of north Queensland’s sugarcane country.

It’s a project that photographer and Mr Dupain’s studio manager of more than 30 years, Jill White, says has been largely forgotten.

Max Dupain captures two haul-out drivers in north Queensland in 1952.()

“They’re not images that collectors would necessarily have in their collection,” she says.

“CSR Limited [Colonial Sugar Refining Company] wanted him to go up and cover the stories and different aspects of the cane growing in the mills.”

Photographed in 1937, Sunbaker remains Max Dupain’s most recognisable work.()

Recognised as one of the most prolific Australian photographers of the 20th century, Dupain journeyed through the cane fields of the Burdekin, Ingham, and Innisfail capturing the stories of the workers, families, and children who made their living on the land.

But the resulting works, captured over 40 years, have largely escaped the public eye.

A ‘very long and very diverse’ career

Born in Sydney in 1911, Dupain’s professional career spanned more than 60 years predominantly documenting the Australian landscape.

But it was after Dupain opened his photography studio in 1934 when CSR, which operated sugar mills across north Queensland, became his first commercial customer the following year.

Boy on tractor was photographed by Dupain in 1952.()

Ms White says Dupain’s main photographic expedition occurred in the 1950s and he returned to the region on multiple trips until the late 1970s.   

“I think he enjoyed getting away and getting up and doing something different out in the open air,” Ms White says.

“There was a lot of preparation for jobs like that when they were away for a week or so because he couldn’t necessarily just go down to the corner shop and buy rolls of black-and-white film.

“He worked with minimal equipment. He didn’t have loads of different lenses and that sort of thing. He kept things very simple.”

Dupain spent time in the Burdekin district in 1952 and photographed children helping out with the harvest.()

Wayne Tunnicliffe is the head curator of Australian art at the Art Gallery of NSW, which holds the majority of the Queensland collection. He says Dupain’s partnership with CSR was a crucial part of establishing his practice in his early career.

“Max Dupain was the most prominent commercial photographer in Australia in that period, so they [CSR] have gone for the best,” Mr Tunnicliffe says.

“There were very few opportunities to show photographs in an art context in the 1960s and little chance of generating income.

“The sugar cane is just a small component of his work for CSR … he’s photographing other factories, pastoral properties, all sorts of aspects of their very broad operation through Australia.”

Wayne Tunnicliffe from the Art Gallery of NSW says Max Dupain’s work embodies the “spirit of Australia”.()

Despite the commercial nature of the project, Mr Tunnicliffe says Dupain maintained an enormous amount of freedom in his photography, resulting in “incredibly powerful” images.

“What [CSR] seem to have done is not asked for just a straightforward documentary approach, but wanting something more than that,” he says.

“You can clearly get a sense of Max looking for these singular images, which convey an experience and almost an emotional tenor, and that is very much part of his practice.

“The composition and the sense of light and space really transcends pure documentary and becomes quite a poetic implication of place.”

Two figures are dwarfed by piles of processed sugar in a Queensland warehouse in 1950.()

The Australian spirit on camera

The collection was donated by CSR to the Art Gallery of NSW and Queensland Art Gallery of Modern Art (QAGOMA) during the 1980s when they featured as part of an exhibition marking 200 years of refinery operations in Australia.

Australian photographer Max Dupain in 1939.()

It is believed to be the first recorded time they were displayed in public, and since then they haven’t been seen as a collection for more than 30 years.

“They sort of don’t come out for long periods of time … with works on paper, we have to consider things like resting them when they’re on display for a certain time to just keep the quality of them,” Michael Hawker, curator of Australian art at QAGOMA, says.

“Dupain is a photographer you don’t naturally associate with Queensland.

“We sort of tend to think of Dupain with those great major images like the Sunbaker, which is capturing the ethos of Australia … but he was getting out there in the outback in industrial and working environments as well.”

Children in the Burdekin watch as whole sticks of cane are transported by loco.()

Even after Dupain’s death in 1992, Mr Hawker says the timeless qualities of his work continue to resonate with modern audiences.

“I think he just captured a quintessential idea of what Australia is,” he says.

“He was very much at the forefront of art photography at the time and influenced a lot of younger photographers who are coming through after him.”

BOMB Magazine

BOMB Magazine
A bearded man wearing a purple robe holds a cluster of white lillies in front of a purple curtain.

Sean Fader, Lillies, 2023, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 40 × 30 inches. Courtesy of Sean Fader and Denny Gallery.

When Sean Fader and I happened to be on the same Zoom call in the summer of 2022, we quickly decided that the virtual encounter had to be followed by an in-person one. As we were both teaching at New York University, we agreed to meet in front of Bobst Library and walk over to Julius, the oldest gay bar in New York City. We had barely set two steps when it started pouring rain, and as Fader cheerfully picked up his pace without a hint of annoyance, I knew we would be fast friends. What’s a little rain when martinis and glitter in a historically queer space are on the horizon?

As I became more familiarized with Fader’s work, it occurred to me that Julius offered a compelling analogy to his artistic practice; in both cases, the camp appearance on the surface is steeped in a multilayered queer history. For many years now, Fader has utilized photography to navigate a tension between the historical and the contemporary. Working with the digital image, Fader’s photographs engage with an aesthetics of abundance to comment on queer identity, past and present. For his second solo exhibition at Denny Gallery, Fader takes on the role of sugar daddy to explore not only the queer attachment to the term but also its colonialist history.

—Ksenia M. Soboleva

Ksenia M. Soboleva Your Sugar Daddy (2021–23) project cleverly weaves together the history and etymology of the sugar daddy with the personal life of Danielle Steel. How did you discover the connection between these two?

Sean Fader When I was living in New Orleans, I was invited to become a member of Antenna Gallery, an artist collective and gallery. We were selected to be a satellite exhibition for Prospect.5, New Orleans’s big triennial. The collective decided the theme of the group show would be sugar. During the pandemic, I had developed a belly and my beard had grown out quite a bit. The boys in the local bars started calling me “daddy.” So the moment we decided the theme would be sugar, I knew I wanted to focus on the sugar daddy. I had no idea that I would end up researching the history of San Francisco and Steel’s life. A quick internet search on the etymology of sugar daddy led me directly to Alma de Breteville Spreckels, and I am obsessed with her.

Alma grew up dirt poor in San Francisco but ended up marrying Adolf Spreckels, heir to the Spreckels Sugar Company fortune. Alma began to call him her “sugar daddy” because his money came from sugar, and he was the same age as her father. The phrase is as literal as it gets! In 1912, they built Alma’s dream house at 1080 Washington Avenue at the crest of a hill in Pacific Heights. Steel purchased Alma’s fifteen-thousand-square-foot home in 1990. I thought to myself: Steel bought the house of Alma and her sugar daddy! Then I started reading about Steel, and I got obsessed all over again with another fabulous woman!

The show focuses on these two amazing characters and where their lives overlap; and, of course, I use my obsession and my own body as a foil to tease out some of these stories, including my unfounded theory that this world of excess in a historically queer, Gold Rush city—San Francisco—influenced the history of leather daddy culture.

A thin gold necklace with the word Daddy as a pendant rests against a hairy chest.

Sean Fader, Daddy, 2023, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 20 × 15 inches. Courtesy of Sean Fader and Denny Gallery.

KMS How do you grapple with or navigate the violent colonial history that the term sugar daddy is rooted in?

SF Well, I think what you are really getting at is the history of sugar and its fundamental connection to wealth, capitalism, and colonialism. It is impossible to understate sugar’s historic and continuing geopolitical influence on the planet even today. In some way, I sidestepped that history when I decided my piece for Antenna’s sugar show would focus on sugar daddies. As a white male transplant to New Orleans, I felt that I was the wrong person to talk about sugar’s violent history on the people of New Orleans and the land; in the context of the Antenna exhibition, many of the artists in the show made work explicitly addressing the racial and ecological violence embedded in the production of sugar. However, pretty soon after starting this work, I realized that I was walking right into the history of sugar and gold wealth in San Francisco, which has its own distinct colonial legacy.

Spreckels Sugar, Alma’s sugar daddy’s company, was founded on colonial exploitation of Hawaiian land and extractivist economies dependent on migrant labor. It goes to show that it is impossible for anyone who participates in the art market to actually distance oneself from the violent histories of colonialism and capitalism. Wealth and power are baked into its DNA.

A bag of sugar with blue words on it rests on a table in front of a purple curtain.

Sean Fader, Spreckels Sugar, 2023, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 20 × 15 inches. Courtesy of Sean Fader and Denny Gallery.

KMS There is a familiar yet distinct camp aesthetic to your photographs and installations. With the spiked interest mainstream culture has expressed in camp aesthetics over the last few years—think Met Gala, for example—how do we keep camp queer?

SF Recently, I was speaking to a queer studies class at NYU about my work. The professor was talking about queerness being inherently about a rejection of normalcy and even celebrating being an outsider. One of the students pointed out that their experience was quite the opposite. For their generation, growing up in a liberal community, it was deeply uncool to come out as straight. I’m not going to lie; it made me a little sad. I had worked so hard to turn the pointing fingers and name-calling of my youth into a badge of honor. I am not upset that some young queer people aren’t growing up tortured by the world around them, but what saddens me is that there are some people who are claiming queerness because it’s trendy. “Pinkwashing”—this idea of selling queerness and marketing it—demonstrates how capitalism weaponizes marginal identities when there is money to be made. I also have to remind myself that queerness and camp are fluid and ever-changing. Camp is about a secret language that the queers speak, a secret humor that only we get. Yes, some of it pops into straight, hetero mainstream; but we will always find ways to hide in plain sight, flagging and recognizing ourselves in small ways just outside the mainstream. How about us queers learn and update Polari; let’s start a new hanky code based on John Waters movies and Lisa Frank’s school supplies!

A man wearing a pink hat sits in a chair while a man wearing a blue suit stands next to a small table with a typewriter and books on it.

Sean Fader, Sugar Daddy I, 2021, archival inkjet print, custom gold lead frame, digital video, 44 × 78 inches. Courtesy of Sean Fader and Denny Gallery.

KMS Social media is another subject of inquiry in your practice. What are the benefits and the challenges of engaging with social media as part of your work?

SF I always think about social media as a tool and a weapon. Ultimately, I’m still optimistic about it. When people talk to me about how evil social media is and how much damage it is doing to people, I often notice that they are part of prevailing cultural norms. For queer people, social media is often one of the first places where we can find people to flirt with and those who celebrate our bodies and way of life. I think social media is a part of the rich history of queer communications: the smell of lavender, green carnations, Polari, hanky code, nail flagging, now Grindr, Tinder, and Instagram. It’s a way to feel seen in a cis het norm sea.

My undergraduate degree is a BFA in musical theater, so my practice is very influenced by years of obsessing about how my actions are being read by others. Because of that, I think about the photographic event as the site of performance and how we queers are using photography to see and be seen, destroy normative ideas of bodies, and celebrate and support our community in digital public spaces. Photography is going from being controlled by the few to the many. It’s time for us to be seen and to shape our own visual narratives.

KMS Much of your practice explores the role of the digital image. What are the ways in which this role has changed over time, and what does this mean for analog photography?

SF I grew up with a darkroom in my basement because my mother was a photo hobbyist. I loved that space, and I loved the magic of the darkroom. There will always be a place for analog photography. I think what most fascinates me about the digital image, which is in stark opposition to analog, is that digital photography is in the hands of the masses, and there are digital public spaces like Instagram for everyone to see and be seen in. We live in a world where 3.2 billion images are shared online every day by millions of people! As a result, digital images are fluid. They are traded as currency: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. They morph into memes, and those memes morph into sub-memes and raise families of memes. They represent us, or who we believe we are, or who we want people to believe we are. They reflect us, often when we don’t want to see ourselves. They show us all the possibilities of the people we can be and the ways we can live our lives. That sounds pretty queer to me!

Sean Fader: Sugar Daddy: Dear Danielle is on view at Denny Gallery in New York City until June 24.

See the Mediterranean as it was captured in some of the earliest surviving photographs

See the Mediterranean as it was captured in some of the earliest surviving photographs

A scholar, artist and heir to a considerable fortune, Joseph-Philibert Girault de Prangey set off from his native France in 1842 for a tour of the historic archeology of the Eastern Mediterranean. But, more than just an eager sightseer, Girault de Prangey planned to capture such famed structures as the Acropolis in Athens and the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem via daguerreotype – the world’s first publicly accessible photographic process – with the intent of publishing and selling his images. These pictures, as well as the additional street scenes and cityscapes he would capture along the way, would eventually become historic in their own right, in some cases representing the oldest surviving photographs of the places depicted. However, as this video essay from the YouTube channel Kings and Things details, these remarkable images would go almost entirely unseen until the 1920s, some three decades after Girault de Prangey’s death. Inviting viewers to retrace this photographer’s footsteps, the video presents a riveting window onto the Eastern Mediterranean as it existed nearly two centuries ago, at the dawn of the photographic age. For more from Kings and Things, watch The Impossible Architecture of Étienne-Louis Boullée.

San Diego’s Mainly Mozart rides social media wave as its 2023 All-Star Orchestra Festival approaches

San Diego’s Mainly Mozart rides social media wave as its 2023 All-Star Orchestra Festival approaches

Over the last three years, Mainly Mozart has been all over the Internet. Not by “going viral,” in a spontaneous way, but by being careful and targeted.

Mark Laturno, the nonprofit’s communications director, has shifted the organization’s outreach from traditional marketing methods to more of an emphasis on social media. It has had a big impact.

“It’s shocking!” Mainly Mozart CEO Nancy Laturno happily exclaimed. “Our numbers are shocking. The larger attendance is shocking. The change in diversity of our audience and how young our audiences are — it’s all shocking.”

Since the beginning of 2020 — when Mainly Mozart pivoted to drive-in concerts for a year — average nightly attendance is up nearly 500 percent.

The 35th Annual Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra Festival — featuring concertmasters and principal players from the country’s top orchestras — kicks off Thursday, June 15 in Del Mar and concludes June 24 at UC San Diego in La Jolla. The concerts are expected to sell out.

Michael Francis conducts the opening night of the All-Star Orchestra Festival at Del Mar Surf Cup Sports Park.

Michael Francis conducts the opening night of the All-Star Orchestra Festival at Del Mar Surf Cup Sports Park.

(J. Kat Woronowicz / For Mainly Mozart)

More remarkable than the number of tickets sold is who’s purchasing them. Newcomers are joining Mainly Mozart’s longtime loyal audience in droves. First-time ticket buyers made up 67 percent of attendees at the June 2022 festival and 56 percent at the October 2022 festival.

“We may also have the youngest average classical music audiences in the country,” said Mark, 29, who is Nancy Laturno’s son. “We had 44 percent of attendees under the age of 40.”

That’s a dramatic figure, especially when compared to the national average of just 15 percent of attendees being under 45, according to the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation’s Classical Music Consumer Segmentation Study.

“A lot of my friends my age have come to our concerts with zero background or awareness of Mozart or Beethoven, and have left totally blown away,” Mark Laturno noted. “Classical music has mainstream appeal. It just doesn’t always have mainstream reach.”

Concertmaster Martin Chalifour at the Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra Festival.

Concertmaster Martin Chalifour at the Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra Festival.

(Courtesy of J. Kat Photography)

Mainly Mozart’s less traditional outreach efforts include partnerships with online influencers, local social media pages and local sports organizations. Reddit’s AMA (Ask Me Anything) sessions with key Mainly Mozart musicians have averaged 600,000 views. A Mainly Mozart AMA in May 2022 received more than 1 million views.

“It’s amazing to see the plethora of approaches Mark has,” said Michael Francis, the festival’s music director, who did an AMA earlier this month. “He has ingenuity, imagination, and skill. He knows to how to message in a way that really engages people. The main thing is he can help people come the first time. It’s our job to make sure they want to come back.”

Mark Laturno said that’s no problem.

“Michael is the best in the business at engaging audiences and helping the music come alive,” he said.

Francis and both Laturnos also credit the festival’s production team, led by operations director Katie McBride-Muzquiz, for its smoothly running concerts. This year, the festival will expand from one concert venue to three.

This week’s three opening concerts will be held at the Del Mar Surf Cup Sports Park, the festival’s home in 2021 and 2022. The concluding three will be in La Jolla, one at the Conrad Prebys Performing Arts Center and the final two concerts at the new Epstein Family Amphitheater at UCSD.

“Mainly Mozart is the true highlight of the season for me and all the musicians,” Francis said. “At the end of our seasons, we come and play wonderful music with great people at the highest level for the sheer joy of making music.”

Young audience members at a past Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra Festival at the Surf Cup Sports Park in Del Mar.

Young audience members at a past Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra Festival at the Surf Cup Sports Park in Del Mar.

(Courtesy of J. Kat Photography)

On opening night Thursday in Del Mar, the orchestra will perform a piece by François-Joseph Gossec, a familiar composer to Suzuki violin students. The closing work will be Beethoven’s Symphony No. 8.

In between, Mozart’s Bassoon Concerto will feature Whitney Crockett, Los Angeles Philharmonic’s principal bassoonist.

“This instrument has the reputation of being at the bottom of the orchestra.” Francis said, from his home in Tampa, where he is music director of the Florida Symphony. “And suddenly it’s at the very top. It’s wonderful to hear the bassoon, especially in the hands of a terrific bassoonist.

“And it’s paired between two wonderful symphonies. People will be delighted with the Gossec and how well it balances with the Beethoven.”

Francis takes care in curating Mainly Mozart programs. He’s well-known for introducing musical works by describing the personal histories of the composers that put the music in context. During this festival, he’ll do that for each piece.

“People are hungry to connect to this glorious art form,” said Francis. “My job is to give them a key to create a personal, proactive listening experience. I provide a modicum of intellectual understanding of when the composer was alive and what they were going through, because we all know love, loss and all the things in between.”

Michael Francis conducts the Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra on Oct. 12, 2022.

Michael Francis conducts the Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra on Oct. 12, 2022.

(Courtesy of J. Kat Photography)

Among the likely highlights during Del Mar Week will be Mainly Mozart mainstay Anne-Marie McDermott performing Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 25 and festival newcomer Karen Gomyo playing Brahms’ Violin Concerto.

The festival’s La Jolla portion begins June 20 with Mahler’s Fourth Symphony, featuring soprano Chelsea Guo, at the Conrad Prebys Performing Arts Center’s Baker-Baum Concert Hall. The multitalented Guo will appear again June 22, this time as a pianist, at the Epstein Family Amphitheater. Also featured that night will be Martin Chalifour, L.A. Phil’s concertmaster and a longtime Mainly Mozart player.

Nancy Laturno said that UCSD will have 500 seat cushions available onsite at the amphitheater.

“That means about 80 per cent of the venue will have cushions available,” she stated. “We encourage patrons to bring their own blankets and cushions for added comfort.”

The festival will conclude June 24 at the Epstein with Beethoven’s Symphony No 9. The San Diego Master Chorale and noted local soprano Tasha Koontz will join the full orchestra.

“Beethoven 9 is the ultimate Mount Everest of human achievements,” Francis said. “I’m always struck by the extraordinary fact that he was completely deaf when he wrote it.

“I’m really looking forward to bringing this piece to life.”

Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra Festival

All performances are at 7:30pm. The Mainly Mozart All-Star Orchestra is conducted by Michael Francis and features principal musicians from dozens of North American orchestras including Cleveland, Philadelphia, the Los Angeles Philharmonic and more. Concerts last 75 minutes each, with no intermission.

June 15:  Opening Night — Del Mar

June 17: ”Mozart Piano Concerto” — Del Mar

June 18: “Mozart & Brahms” — Del Mar

June 20: “Mahler 4” — La Jolla

June 22: “Shostakovich & Mozart” — UCSD

June 24: “Beethoven 9th” UCSD

Where:  Surf Cup Sports Park, 14989 Via De La Valle, Del Mar (outdoors). The Baker-Baum Concert Hall, Conrad Prebys Performing Arts Center, 7600 Fay Ave., La Jolla. Epstein Family Amphitheater at UC San Diego, 9500 Gilman Dr., La Jolla (outdoors)

Tickets: Del Mar Week Concerts: Tier-B seating (general admission) is $30 per person. Tier-A 10’ x 10’ Personal Viewing Pods are $110-$120 for one person, $140-$150 for groups of two, $170-$180 for groups of three, and $200-$210 for groups of four. Table seating is available beginning at $300 for two seats at a table for four or $500 for a full table for four. VIP table seating is available beginning at $600 for two seats at a table for four or $1,000 for a full table for four. La Jolla Week Concerts: Tier-B seats are available for $30 per person. Tier-A seats are available for $75 per person. Tier-AA seats are available for $160 per person.

Online: mainlymozart.org

Wood is a freelance writer.

Mainly Mozart Festival music director Michael Francis

Mainly Mozart Festival music director Michael Francis

((Photo by Ken Jacques) )

This Week In Baton Rouge: Juneteenth events, Poolside BBQ, Photography class

This Week In Baton Rouge: Juneteenth events, Poolside BBQ, Photography class

Monday, June 12

Baton Rouge Career Fair | Hilton Hotel

Ready to get networking? Meet with top Baton Rouge employers at this local event. Find out who will be attending and what to expect here.


HBO Max’s newest series “The Idol” has captured people’s attention, but it’s not all for good reasons.

Tuesday, June 13

Photo Skills: Photography on iPhone | Apple – Mall of Louisiana

Want to up your photography game? Visit the Apple store in the Mall of Louisiana and learn how to use the latest camera features to compose a great shot. You’ll experiment with focus and exposure, practice using lighting effects and even learn how to take your first slofie.


Wednesday, June 14

CLOUD RAT with THOU | Chelsea’s Live

Baton Rouge metal band Thou will take the stage at Chelsea’s Live this week. Since it started in 2004, the band has released five full length albums and seven EPs. Check out its show starting at 6 p.m.


Thursday, June 15

Juneteenth Panel Discussion | LSU Museum of Art

In honor of Juneteenth, the LSU Museum of Art is hosting a panel featuring the Beta Iota Lambda and Xi Nu Lambda Chapters of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity Inc., the oldest African American fraternity, to discuss the post-emancipation triumphs of Black Americans. Learn more about the free event here.


Friday, June 16

Juneteenth Celebration | LSU Clarence L. Barney Jr. African American Cultural Center

Join LSU’s AACC to celebrate Juneteenth from 12 p.m. to 2 p.m. The celebration will include music, food, games, a historical reflection and much more. 


Saturday, June 17

Pride: A Candlelight Concert Celebrating Queer Musical Icons | Cary Saurage Community Arts Center

Celebrate Pride Month and the music of queer icons at the Cary Saurage Community Arts Center under the gentle glow of candlelight. Hear a local string quartet perform music from artists like Elton John, Frank Ocean, Stephen Sondheim, Jonathan Larsen, Tchaikovsky and more. Learn more about the event here.

Taylor Swift played MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey, from May 26 to 28 and is now officially halfway through her North American…


Sunday, June 18

Father’s Day Poolside BBQ | Crowne Plaza Executive Center

Celebrate Father’s Day with live music, a steak dinner and cool drinks at Crowne Plaza. This event will be held from 2 p.m. to 7 p.m. and entry is $15. Children under 12 get free entry. For more information, check out the Crowne Plaza Facebook.

Five Things That Will Make You a Better Photographer

Five Things That Will Make You a Better Photographer

Becoming a confident and capable photographer is no small task, and it is something to be proud of when you accomplish it. If you are currently on that journey and looking for tips on how to improve, check out this fantastic video tutorial that features an experienced photographer sharing five important tips sure to help you on your way. 

Coming to you from Kayleigh June, this awesome video tutorial discusses five tips for changing your photography for the better. Perhaps the most impactful tip is the importance of ignoring trends and not comparing yourself to others. Chasing trends can be detrimental for several reasons. First, if you are chasing trends, it will always be tough to distinguish your work, because you are always competing with what is popular at the moment. Second, you are robbing yourself of your own creative identity, and it is always far less satisfying to chase the work of others than to do what makes you happy. Lastly, chasing trends means you are always behind, as you have to wait to see what is popular and try to play catch-up. There is a lot more worthwhile advice; check out the video above for the full rundown from June.

Can a camera REALLY capture your aura and real the true you?

Can a camera REALLY capture your aura and real the true you?

It is the latest wacky wellness trend but we discover if a camera can REALLY capture your aura and real the true you?

Ever wondered what colour your aura is? The latest obsession in the wacky world of wellness is ‘aura photography’.

Social media is lit up with people sharing insights into their character and state of mind from a ‘photograph’ of their aura — a ghostly, multicoloured halo conjured by a special camera and electrical sensors.

Taylor Swift mentions hers in her song Bejeweled; ‘aura manicures’ are trending on TikTok (real aficionados get their nails painted to match their own personal rainbow), while Gwyneth Paltrow has revealed her ethereal cloud of yellow and green signified, among other things, optimism, generosity and perfectionism. Of course it did.

Aura photography was pioneered in the 1970s by Californian entrepreneur Guy Coggins, whose AuraCam 3000 captured what enthusiasts believe is a genuine emanation of the kind clairvoyants have long claimed to see without mechanical aid.

Translating electrical charges picked up via a person’s hands into a spectrum of colours, the camera then superimposes the ‘aura’ over a portrait photograph taken at the same time.

Aura photography was pioneered in the 1970s by Californian entrepreneur Guy Coggins (stock image)

The result, it is claimed, is a 2D representation of the ‘chakric energies’ — you might know the concept from yoga — flowing through a person at a particular moment of time, and thus their innermost feelings and desires.

Part psychotherapy, part psychic consultation, aura readings are a red-hot trend. But what did our writers think? Could sceptics be converted? 

What did the spectral clouds tell them about who they really are? And why did one writer emerge baffled by the contraption’s recording of an emotion it couldn’t possibly have just guessed?

I look like Kate Bush as an alien

By Jane Fryer

I place my hand on the sensor, which measures electrical charge, while Laura takes a photo of my head and shoulders. Pictured: Jane Fryer

There are many things Gwyneth Paltrow has that the rest of us do not. An extraordinarily toned set of abs, multi-million-pound lifestyle brand and the killer stealth wealth wardrobe that we all admired during her recent court case.

Sadly, most of it is beyond our means. Even her famous vagina-scented candle costs £60.

But her enthusiasm for ‘aura reading’ is rather more accessible. For £35, it takes just 15 minutes to discover whether your ‘radiant energy’ (or electromagnetic field) is a hot red, creative orange, compassionate green, thoughtful blue or a veritable rainbow of colours like Gwynnie’s.

This insight into your personality traits — the next big thing in self-nurturing, apparently — is carried out using a special camera, a small silver-laced hand sensor and some software fed into the iPad of my American aura reader Laura Childs.

‘It is tech meets entry-level spirituality and greater self-awareness,’ she says. It’s also wonderfully quick.

I place my hand on the sensor, which measures electrical charge, while Laura takes a photo of my head and shoulders. After barely five seconds, up pops my radiant energy on her screen.

‘Ooh! Big aura today!’ she cries. ‘Very green. Really green, in fact. And yellow.’

She flips the screen to show me looking rather queasy in a sea of what looks like ectoplasm.

‘Green is where we find balance and empathy,’ she says, adding it can also mean I want everyone to be happy and am social, communicative, value close-knit family and have a strong sense of community.

 Other people’s weedy little auras aren’t a patch on my smug giant one – Claudia Connell

Which is all very pleasing. Unlike tarot reading, there are no scary predictions in aura reading, no Grim Reaper clutching his dreary old scythe. (Though a pal of mine had an aura that came out totally black, which doesn’t sound that cheery.)

Laura prints out a photo of my aura. The SLC Studio in East London is one of the few places you can have it photographed in the UK and people travel from all over for 15 minutes with Laura.

(If you’re not in London, try Aura Energetics in Glastonbury, Somerset, auraenergetics.co.uk; The Brighton Wellbeing Clinic, thebrightonwell beingclinic.co.uk; Feathers Academy in Cheshire, feathersmediums.co.uk; or Aura Cleanse in Edinburgh, auracleanse.co.uk.)

She explains that this is just a snapshot of my aura, right now. It changes according to our energy and is affected by external factors, so mine is likely to be skewed by the massive row I had ten minutes earlier with an estate agent. And would be similarly affected by the calming presence of my dog on my lap, or a fat win on the lottery.

Laura turns to the slash of vibrant yellow that appears over the chakra in the solar plexus. (Chakras are spiritual energy centres in the body.)

‘This is your gut feeling. Intuition. You know what feels right and wrong. You know what you want and don’t want,’ says Laura. ‘Or . . . it could signify indecisiveness and lack of confidence. It can sort of go either way.’

Meanwhile, the dome above the head represents our state of consciousness. If you’re burnt out or tired, it would be shallow — flat almost. Whereas mine is beautifully arched, showing a strong sense of self and openness. It is yellow, for logic and intellectualism, all of which I rather like the sound of.

Afterwards, on the train, as I sit admiring my steeple-high aura in the takeaway photo, I wonder — is it all a load of old rubbish, or is there any accuracy in my green and yellow veil? Because much of Laura’s reading does ring surprisingly true. I am mad about family and friends, love a bit of community — the allotment, church, school, street. Or, as my husband puts it: ‘You’re a total busybody.’

Though, sadly, no one has ever described me as either logical or intellectual. Laura says it’s ‘self-exploration’. Maybe, but I still look like I’m sitting in a gigantic sulphurous fart. My pals are more positive: ‘Wow! Great album cover. Sort of Kate Bush as an alien.’

For another tenner you can buy a crystal from Laura. I chose a long, thin, beige one that might help link me to the dead. Or might not.

Mine is a weird nuclear green

By Harry Wallop

So what does my aura reveal? First of all, there is nothing above my head. Gywneth Paltrow had a full rainbow. Pictured: Harry Wallop

I think I am meant to look ethereal and spiritual. In reality, I look like the Ready Brek kid, after he has spent too long in the Chernobyl fallout zone. Half of me is glowing orange, the other a weird, nuclear green.

Welcome to the strange world of aura photography.

I went to the studio with an open mind. Truly. After all, I have had acupuncture and believe it helped me with a trapped nerve — even though I know it is not fully backed up by science.

So what does my aura reveal? First of all, there is nothing above my head. Gywneth Paltrow had a full rainbow.

‘It is a little bit shallow here; that can be a little bit of tiredness, maybe almost burned out,’ says Laura.

Well, it’s certainly true I am tired a lot of the time, but surely Laura could spot that the moment I, a father of four with a full-time job, walked in through the door.

It gets more interesting when she starts analysing the green colour. There’s a lot of talk of my heart.

‘Things related to the heart can relate to heartbreak and grief on one side of the spectrum and falling in love on the other side,’ she says in her gentle, Californian accent.

I had, in fact, learnt of the death of a family friend just a few hours earlier, news that had hit me surprisingly hard. Had this contraption somehow managed to record this?

We then move on to the orange.

‘It relates to creativity, sensuality, sexuality, the desire to pursue things that are pleasurable,’ says Laura.

Why is it a murky, dingy orange, not a zesty Jaffa orange? Does that mean I have stopped being open to adventure? ‘It’s open to interpretation,’ says Laura. ‘It can mean a lot of things.’ Umm, OK.

‘Ultimately, that is for you to take home with you and decide,’ she adds.

Ah, so aura photography is a woo-woo Rorschach experiment — the psychological test that uses your interpretation of inkblot designs to assess personality traits and emotional tendencies.

It shows you what you want it to show. Do you want it to show you to be lethargic and lacking in vision? Or energetic and spiritual? You decide.

But if you have spent £35 on a picture, I imagine most people believe their aura really does exist. I remain unconvinced.

Giant aura means I have star power

By Claudia Connell

It's on the left that my aura shows a flash of pinkish white, which shows that I am in tune with my spirituality. Pictured: Claudia Connell

Who doesn’t want to be told that they light up a room? That the minute they enter, everyone else’s world gets a little brighter?

That’s what Laura says after taking a photograph of my aura.

Mainly orange, with a touch of red and pink, the shape goes high above my head and stretches wide on either side of me.

‘People will absolutely sense your energy when you enter a space,’ she says.

To prove her point, she shows me photos of other people with weedy little auras that aren’t a patch on mine.

On the downside, she tells me my energy is a little conflicted. Orange, the dominant colour, represents my willingness to try new things, while the red can mean I am also drawn to safety, security and the familiar.

I can relate to that. I often tell myself I am going to try something new and exciting and then . . . can’t be bothered. Take the time I decided to learn Spanish, booked myself on to a course and then didn’t go to the first lesson because there was no parking and I didn’t fancy a long walk.

When it comes to the aura on either side of me, the left represents the internal, the stuff we keep inside ourselves, while the right displays the energy we want others to see.

And it’s on the left that my aura shows a flash of pinkish white, which shows that I am in tune with my spirituality.

‘That spirituality could mean you feel connected to the universe or have an affinity with nature or religion,’ says Laura.

None of that sounds very me but, as it’s only a hint of pink, perhaps my spirituality is a work in progress?

I notice others have green auras, linked to the heart chakra and representing compassion. I have no trace of green, so does that mean I’m heartless?

Laura assures me it doesn’t and that people who have too many colours are often confused and chaotic. Additionally, shape and colour can vary over time.

As I leave, I decide I have enjoyed the experience — it’s fun and entertaining — but nothing more. That said, I can’t help but feel a bit smug about my giant, orange aura.

It couldn’t spot my hangover!

By Katie Glass

Having recently started a new relationship, I'm expecting a pretty, pink, heart-centred aura. Instead, what I get is a Hare Krishna orange. Pictured: Katie Glass

I am in Glastonbury, the British mecca of spirituality, stocking up on essential oils, when I get the call asking if I want to have my aura read. Er, obviously, yes! I’m familiar with aura readings having grown up in this hippy corner of Somerset. I arrive for my aura reading with a hangover. A Taurus, I celebrated my birthday the day before my reading. Is this going to mess up my karma?

‘People who are hungover can have an aura that’s a little bit shallower on the top,’ warns Laura, explaining that tiredness can make the colours we project less vibrant. I put on my best grin and try to channel my most uplifted self.

Having recently started a new relationship, I’m expecting a pretty, pink, heart-centred aura. Instead, what I get is a Hare Krishna orange.

‘That’s very orange’, Laura says.

She tells me the vibrancy of my aura suggests a powerful ‘life-force’, while its egg shape, with its pointy top, indicates a strongly-burning internal flame, thankfully not quelled by my hangover.

The bright orange, she continues, emanates from the ‘sacral chakra’, located below the navel in the womb and hips, and represents the creation of new life and new projects. The zestiness of my orange suggests someone creative, open-minded and curious, with a strong desire to explore, most specifically in pursuit of pleasure.

This sounds like me to a tee and is especially familiar having spent the past two days dashing around London celebrating my birthday with cocktails and sightseeing.

Orange dominates my aura but it does have a touch of bright yellow too, reflecting the solar plexus chakra, a fire element indicating personal power and confidence. It’s a mix that suggests someone action-oriented and filled with ideas.

‘Someone who wants to make decisions and knows the right decision for them,’ says Laura.

This also rings true. After a few years of flailing around trying to ‘find myself’, as I turn 42, I now feel I know what I want and need to do.

What rings truest of all is what my orange aura suggests about embracing challenges.

Having moved to the countryside during lockdown, I’ve stayed positive through the endless challenges of a new environment and renovating an old cottage.

It’s the house that took me to Glastonbury, and it feels good that my aura reading captures where I want to be.

It feels like my soul is being read

By Liz Jones

It's no less nightmarish when I see the image of my slightly alarmed face surrounded by orange and yellow light in a pyramid shape. Pictured: Liz Jones

I hate having my photo taken and yet today, I’m not just submitting to a headshot, I’m allowing my energy, my very soul, to be documented.

It’s no less nightmarish when I see the image of my slightly alarmed face surrounded by orange and yellow light in a pyramid shape.

Though there’s good news. Apparently, everything above the ears represents consciousness, so my high aura means I’m quite energetic and forceful (a flat shape would mean a person feels depleted). It’s true: I can be very determined.

Laura says orange indicates I’m adventurous and open to finding stories (hmm, she knows I’m a writer). It also tells me I have lots of ideas, which is also true: I have recently written a play.

Yellow, meanwhile, denotes power, intellect, generosity and playfulness. An impressive combination. But while the yellow shines brightly on my left, my ‘yin’ side, which is where ideas are manifested, it’s weaker on the right, the ‘yang’ or action space, which tells Laura I have yet to act on my ideas, as there is indecision.

This isn’t true: I sent the play to a producer.

A weaker right side also means I’m introverted (true) and lack optimism (currently true).

As for the other qualities, while I’m indeed generous, I’m the least playful person you’ve ever met. Interestingly, I don’t have any red, which is about having a stable home: correct, as I’m still renting. ‘What we’re seeing today is a snapshot of where your head is currently at,’ she says.

I ask how I can use my reading to help me — will my ideas work, will I earn money, buy a home? — but am told it’s not a predictive tool. It’s about being reflective, taking a pause and being self-aware.

Reading my booklet on the way home, I wonder why I showed no tan colour, which is far more me: organised, highly intelligent but cautious. Or green, which is about being ambitious, a perfectionist, someone who works long, hard hours. Absolutely me.

Crucially, given I lost a loved one only 24 hours before, my aura didn’t show a trace of grief. Once again, I’m left questioning the wellness industry.

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