My father, Jeremy Grayson, who has died aged 90, was a professional photographer who worked over the years for clients including the BBC, Radio Times, Talk of the Town and the London Palladium.

He photographed a plethora of famous people: Shirley Bassey, Sammy Davis Jr, the Beatles, Marlon Brando, John Mills and Harold Macmillan to name a few. From the 1960s onwards his photos were used in advertising campaigns, on record and book covers, and in magazines.

Born in London, the son of Brian Grayson, who formerly owned a publishing company, and his wife, Sofia (nee Buchanan, Jeremy was educated at Worth school in West Sussex and Downside school in Somerset, after which he completed his national service in the RAF. He trained in photography during the 50s in Bond Street in London at the studios of the Austrian portrait photographer Lotte Meitner-Graf, and at the photographic shop run by Wallace Heaton, in the same road, before turning freelance.

Jeremy met Sara Upton, a secretary/journalist, when they were living in the same shared house, and they married in 1958, going on to raise six children in the thriving, bohemian community of Chelsea during the 60s and 70s. This gave the family privileged access to an exciting world of film sets, theatres, TV studios and some wonderful people from all walks of life.

Despite his professional and personal links with some famous figures my father remained down to earth and committed to his local community. During the 70s and 80s he became involved with the running of a playground for disabled children in Chelsea, fighting hard to ensure its survival. He was very popular with the children and staff and, more generally, was incredibly caring and generous to those less fortunate than himself. He also later volunteered for the Riding for the Disabled Association.

A generous man with a wonderful sense of humour, he provided us children with the most exciting of upbringings, based around his warmth, fun and love of people and the outdoors.

In 1998 he and Sara moved to East Stoke, then later Winfrith Newburgh, both in Dorset, where he enjoyed painting, gardening, exploring the countryside and reading.

He is survived by Sara, his children Simon, Caroline, Anna, Paul, Lucy and me, 11 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.

Ask just about anyone and they’ll tell you, Portland, Oregon is perhaps best known for being a sustainability-minded, pedestrian city with an abundance of great coffee, craft beer, good food and live music, plus fine art and crafts, and people who seem to value both individuality and community. In some ways, it still is.

Yet things changed or, at least shifted, in late spring 2020. Perhaps you had to be there. While most might disagree, preferring to be as far and away as possible from the energy, the anger, and the violence of the night, anyone who really wanted to understand “Portland’s Summer of Rage” or, in the case of Rian Dundon, to photograph it, really had to be there.  And he was.

Although born in Portland, documentary photographer Rian Dundon was raised in Pacific Grove, where his family remains and his uncle is a postal carrier. Yet in 2019, Dundon, who has been photographing “the rise of extreme politics” on the West Coast since 2016, returned to Portland, his home just a few blocks from the protests that ignited after the May 25, 2020 murder of George Floyd.

Floyd was neither the first nor the last Black person to fall prey to police brutality. Yet, accompanied by other events in rapid succession, his was the incident that escalated a social movement already underway.

Dundon, whose Fujifilm XF10 camera was a subtle intrusion on the night, was close enough to photograph the fear, the rage, the intensity, and the theater of folks dressing up and acting out about incidents that had surpassed injustice to the point of righteous indignation.

In the months that intervened between the Floyd murder and the 2020 presidential election, and continuing well into 2021, says Dundon, social justice protests erupted on a nightly basis. Such uprisings are inherently more menacing under the cover of darkness.

“At the time, I was working on assignments for Time Magazine, Vanity Fair, and The Atlantic,” said Dundon, “but when something like these protests are happening, you don’t sit around and wait for an assignment. You go. It was intense, but I wasn’t really scared. When I get into that kind of situation, I’m pretty good at focusing on what needs to be done.”

For 100 nights, Dundon witnessed the demonstrations, capturing the portraiture of protest with a tool as unobtrusive as a point-and-shoot camera. Still, he recorded events amid the sting of pepper spray, the explosion of a gas canister, and the haze of tear gas. The result is “Protest City: Portland’s Summer of Rage,” a visual portrayal of a season in Portland’s history which changed the landscape and the tenor of the city.

Dundon’s images, up close and angry, include toppled statues of political leaders once honored, now avenged; throngs of protesters in silhouette, bowing their heads to tear gas beneath a smoke-filled sky; fists held high in protest or portrayed in fresh tattoos, plus “Proud Boys” ink, identifying the neo-fascist militant group that promotes political violence; and gas masks, worn by both protesters and police.

Dundon’s book is a commentary, primarily through photography, paired with a foreword by journalist Donnell Alexander, an introduction by historian Carmen P. Thomson, and Dundon’s own message, all of which lend a sociopolitical context to the Portland protests.

Dundon was thrust into this project, having previously photographed political rallies in the San Francisco Bay Area, after Donald Trump was elected in 2016. Having witnessed a lot of political conflict in Berkeley and Oakland through the lens of his camera, he went on to capture the partisan conflict arising on a regular basis between the left and the right during Portland rallies.

“Then COVID happened, and things quieted down,” he said. “But when the George Floyd protests erupted at the end of May, I realized that documenting this was the continuation of a project I had been working on, in looking at the state of politics and protests in Portland.”

Portrait of a photographer

Dundon, 42, became interested in photography as a boy, while growing up in Pacific Grove. His mother was an amateur photographer, he says, which meant inspiration, guidance, and cameras were always available. In the 1990s, engaged by the culture as well as the ride of a skateboard, he started taking pictures of his friends skateboarding in Pacific Grove, emulating the style of photography he admired in skater magazines.

“Pretty soon,” he said, “I found myself more interested in the people than the sports element of skateboarding. Already looking at journalistic photography, studying magazines like National Geographic, I became interested in documentary photography.”

Dundon went to New York University, where he studied photography on a journalistic track, and graduated with a BFA in liberal arts.

“Becoming a photographer is a lot more circuitous than deciding to be one and finding people who hire you to take pictures,” he said. “It’s more of a calling than a job, like being an author. In the last 20 years, I’ve held many different types of jobs, including working as a photo editor and a teacher, which I continue to do while working on documentary photography.”

Dundon, who previously taught photography at the San Francisco Art Institute, will soon start teaching at Clark College, a junior college in Vancouver, Washington.

“Protest City: Portland’s Summer of Rage,” which was published in June, is actually Dundon’s third book. His first two books, produced while living in China for six years in the 2000s, include “Changsha,” which portrays life in the city of Changsha in central China. His second, “Fan,” offers a collection of photos he made while working as an English tutor to one of China’s most celebrated actresses, Fan Bingbing, paired with a commentary on what it was like to witness her rarified existence.

“My new book is a visual record of historical events which changed Portland,” said Dundon, “but it’s also a commentary on how protest is enacted in the 21st Century, in the context of cell phones and social media, and the way this has changed the motivations and visual nature of protests.”

“Protest City: Portland’s Summer of Rage” is available via Oregon State University Press and Amazon.

A photographer who has taken studio portraits of chickens for the last eight years says he is “captivated” by them.

Alex ten Napel’s series of hens and roosters has become all-encompassing for the Dutch photographer who tells PetaPixel that “it is the only thing I do for now.”

“Photographed like this you do not see a walking, cackling piece of meat or an egg producing machine,” he says. “You look in the eyes of a living creature. A hen, or a rooster.”

Ten Napel says the chickens “become individuals and get a character.” The portraits “get a heart and soul,” he adds.

When setting out on the project Ten Napel wanted to emulate the 17th-century Dutch bird painter Melchior d’Hondecoeter.

“In his portraits, the birds look as individuals and it is as if you are looking at people,” explains Ten Napel.

“This aspect of his portraiture and the enchanting beauty through his use of light and color were in my mind whenever as I thought about the series.”

Another reason for Ten Napel’s chicken series is that he had grown tired of photographing people after 25 years of taking portraits.

“This aspect of his portraiture and the enchanting beauty through his use of light and color were in my mind whenever as I thought about the series,” he says.

“Photographing hens and roosters and unraveling their personalities appears to be a good substitute. Hens and roosters cannot be directed and they do not act, hide, or pretend. Hens and roosters simply look natural and beautiful.”

Ten Napel has shot many different breeds of chicken often capturing them in graceful, almost ballerina-esque poses.

“Photographing is unexpected, exciting, and out of control. How it should be,” he says.

“Every time they teach me a lesson to be patient and to wait for the right moment. Hens and roosters understand photography better than the photographer. They tell me to wait, look, see, understand, and then shoot.”

He adds that hens and roosters are “funny, full of beauty” and believes anyone will “fall in love with them instantly.”

More of Ten Napel’s work can be found on his website.

Image credits: Photographs by Alex ten Napel

Chicago photographer Barry Butler’s 2024 calendar, book now available. – CBS Chicago

In an earlier column, I shared a circular image of the Tokyo skyline, taken from the top of the Tokyo Skytree in 2016. Several weeks later I was experimenting with an iPad Pro and Apple Pencil, and seeing how I could integrate them into my workflow. I grabbed the circular Tokyo image as it was near the top of the Recent Images folder: I simply needed an image to practise painting on with the brush tools. Using the Color Blending Mode, I started coloring in Tokyo as if it was tinted like an old photograph. 

Being able to zoom in and out with simple finger gestures was an effortlessly joyful creative process. It soon became meditative, and I can understand why the coloring-in books for mindfulness that were the craze a few years ago were so popular. It was therapeutic. Zooming out to see the enormity of the Tokyo skyline revealed just how much there was to color in, but it was an enjoyable process, so I decided to continue and commit to coloring in the whole city. 

Zooming and panning to color in buildings, windows, balconies, fire escapes, air-conditioning vents and so on forced me to explore the city and the photograph with a depth I’ve never really experienced before. It was a really interesting way to spend a lot of time with a photograph – and the more time I spent in this ‘space’, the more intimate it became. I started to get to know the city and explore it in an exciting way. It also stimulated my imagination, and I was soon imagining stories from the little vignettes on my screen. 

I decided to take snapshots of these little vignettes and represent them as single images in their own right. This image is one of about 30. These are extreme crops, and I wanted to make A2 prints, so I decided to commit to the rough and ready vibe and exaggerated this in Camera Raw: rather than trying to get rid of artifacts and grain, I amplified them. I added more grain, to make the images really gritty, contrasting, edgy and garishly colorful.

While they look great as A2 prints, I am planning to make them into a small 32-page ’zine in the spirit of the old fanzines – full-bleed with a homemade gritty aesthetic, which I think will suit the set of pictures and imagined stories. 

• Other articles in the Art of Seeing series

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• 100 best photography quotes from famous photographers
• The best coffee-table books on photography

The title of this exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago (until 25 March 2024) is taken from language used by David Goldblatt in a newspaper advert, seeking subjects for his photographs. It‘s a neat encapsulation of the objectivity and transparency Goldblatt strove for in his photographs recording Johannesburg during and after apartheid, which continue to be celebrated as among the most limpid and intimate representations of life in a society riven by racial division. Spanning the six decades of his career, the show progresses from Goldblatt’s black-and-white documentary works of the 1950s–90s to later colour works, and shows how he increasingly came to examine his own relatively privileged role as the son of Lithuanian Jewish emigrants, with the ability to move freely within South African society and among his diverse subjects. The exhibition also examines his mentorship of younger artists and continuing influence at home and abroad, with a display of works by international contemporaries such as Josef Koudelka and South African photographers including Santu Mofoken and Zanele Muholi. Find out more from the Art Institute of Chicago’s website.

Preview below | View Apollo’s Art Diary

Swerwers, nomadic sheep shearers and farmworkers descended from the San hunter- gatherers and Khoi pastoralists. Without work for four months they lived in the ITALIC gang, the corridor between farms, fences and roads, hunting, fishing when they could and eating roadkill, near Nuwe Rooiberg, Northern Cape, 18 September 2002 (2002; printed later), David Goldblatt. Art Institute of Chicago, promised gift of Cecily Cameron and Derek Schrier. © The David Goldblatt Legacy Trust

Sylvia Gibbert in her apartment, Melrose, Johannesburg (1974), David Goldblatt. Art Institute of Chicago, promised gift of Cecily Cameron and Derek Schrier. © The David Goldblatt Legacy Trust

In the office of the funeral parlour, Orlando West, Soweto (1972), David Goldblatt. Art Institute of Chicago, promised gift of Cecily Cameron and Derek Schrier. © The David Goldblatt Legacy Trust

Sunday morning: A not-white family living illegally in the “White” group area of Hillbrow, Johannesburg (1978; printed later), David Goldblatt. Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven. © The David Goldblatt Legacy Trust

Miriam Diale, 5357 Orlando East, Soweto, 18 October 1972 (1972; printed later), David Goldblatt. Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven. © The David Goldblatt Legacy Trust