2008 Photographic Convention for the Photographic Society of NZ
May I begin by greeting everyone in the languages of the realm of New Zealand - English, Maori, Cook Island Maori, Niuean, Tokelauan and New Zealand Sign Language. Greetings, Kia Ora, Kia Orana, Fakalofa Lahi Atu, Taloha Ni and as it is the evening (Sign)
May I specifically greet you: Don Kelly, President of the NZ Photographic Society and your fellow council members; Norma Bartrum, Convenor of the Organising Committee; Your Worship, Janie Annear, Mayor of Timaru; Distinguished Guests otherwise; Ladies and Gentlemen.
Thank you for inviting my wife Susan and I to attend the 2008 Photographic Convention for the Photographic Society of New Zealand. It is good to return to Timaru and South-Canterbury, having visited here last October for the purpose of St John with a visit to the Pleasant Point Railway and Museum and the unforgettable spectre of a certain football game at Cardiff. As to which our motel room had in it the most unusual of television sets which seemed to show that the try to France occurred after a forward pass had been thrown.
I have been asked to officially open your convention, but before I do, I would like to briefly speak to the significance of photography and my own experiences at the hands of the craft.
Prior to my appointment as Governor-General in August 2006, my involvement with photography and photographers was reasonably minimal. Apart the obligatory photograph upon being appointed a judge and an ombudsman—and a supplied head and shoulders shot that was distributed to the media—when being photographed, it was more likely to be by a friend or family member than a professional photographer.
All that changed in April 2006 when it was announced that I would be New Zealand's 19th Governor-General. I have been photographed literally thousands of times in the two years since. If the Australian Aboriginal saying that each photograph takes a bit of your soul is correct, I would imagine that I'm headed straight for hell by the time that the five-year term is concluded! Indeed, if anyone was attempting to find my soul at that time, I would suggest that they issue a search warrant on the premises of none other than one of your council members, Simon Woolf. Simon has been official photographer at many ceremonies at Government House, and has probably taken more images of me than anyone else. This, of course, also applies to Susan.
But seriously, since its invention in the late 1830s, photography has transformed our understanding of the world and of ourselves. Like the invention of the phonograph and later the motion picture camera, photography has allowed the capture of moments in time in a more permanent way. Writings, paintings and oral traditions always occur after the event and are filtered through the memories of those recalling them. That is not to say that photographs are value-free—as each person brings their own past experiences with them when they view an image.
A friend recently gave Susan and I a photograph, presumably taken with a box brownie camera in the early 1970s, of Susan and me with the late David Lange. The details of what brought us together had faded—I must have been the best man at a wedding given my attire—but it also brought memories flooding back of our friendship and professional connections as young lawyers in Auckland.
Like all forms of art, photography can stir the full range of emotions. Photographs can make us laugh, make us angry and make us cry. Photographs, it is said, provide a window into the soul, forcing both individuals and communities to reflect on what they hold to be true. The fact that there are countries where governing regimes assiduously monitor what photographs are published, and have imprisoned photographers, reminds us of the power of images.
To paraphrase Charles Dickens, photography has captured humanity at the best of times and the worst of times. The recent commemorations to mark the 40th anniversary of the sinking of the Wahine have also brought back many sad images from that tragic day. The anniversary of which is in a few hours time. Who, for example, will never forget the famous photograph of a distressed boy, wearing an oversized life jacket, huddling with other survivors on Seatoun Beach. And then there are images, such as the 'Monsoon girl' who appeared in New Zealand-born photographer Brian Brake's famous photo-essay, Monsoon, that not only celebrates the arrival of the rainy season in India, but the joy of life in our world. Then there is Norman Kirk, hand-in-hand with the child at Waitangi or Dame Whina Cooper on the 'hikoi'.
Taking photographs, particularly of people, involves a certain amount of responsibility particularly around personal privacy and genuine public interest. The Aboriginal saying I have referred to earlier underlines a fundamental truth. It has always been a difficult issue for the media, but given the availability of digital cameras—often in mobile phones—and of the ease of internet publishing through blogs, it is one that more people need to consider.
And then there is the representation of what is actually being shown. Just as statistics can be twisted to a particular end, the way a photograph is taken and how it is subsequently cropped can alter the impression for the viewer. This is particularly so with modern software that allows images to be changed in ways that even the eye has difficulty in spotting. For example, I mentioned earlier Brian Brake's photograph Monsoon Girl of a girl looking upwards with drops of water on her face. While Brian Brake never concealed that the image was actually staged in a studio, someone approaching without that knowledge might have thought it was taken outside or was even spontaneous.
Photography in this country—judging by those attending this convention and the images on display—is in good heart. New Zealand has produced many world-class photographers who have achieved international distinction, both at home and abroad.
I wish to congratulate the Photographic Society of New Zealand, the sponsors, and particularly the organisers, from Timaru, South Canterbury and North Otago, who have clearly worked so hard to put this amazing gathering together. The programmed guest speakers are of the highest calibre.
It thus gives me great pleasure to officially declare the Society's 2008 Photographic Convention to be open.
And on that note, I will close in New Zealand's first language, Maori, offering greetings and wishing everyone good health and fortitude in your endeavours. No reira, tena koutou, tena koutou, kia ora, kia kaha, tena koutou katoa.