Frank Ford On Shooting the '68 Chicago Convention, Editing Art Muscle Magazine and Making Portraits of John Waters, Willem Dafoe and Richard Avedon
Think of modern-day portrait photography, and who comes to mind? Annie Leibowtiz? Richard Avedon? Interview magazine? Rolling Stone? How about Francis Ford of Art Muscle and Milwaukee Magazine?
If the name is new to you, don’t feel bad. Ford – or the magazines he’s worked for – are nowhere near as famous as Liebowitz or Avedon. But the images Ford has made of celebrities and just plain folks from his hometown of Milwaukee have often been just as striking and individual as those of his more celebrated contemporaries.
“There’s a quality of mystery and awe in Frank’s most memorable photographs, be they portraits if his Walker’s Poiunt neighbors or ‘recognizable’ people like filmmaker John Waters actor Willem Dafoe,” wrote John Shiman and Julie Lindemann in a tribute to Ford in Art Muscle, a Milwaukee arts magazine. “Being a fan of personalities, famous and obscure, infuses Frank’s pictures with a bigger-than-life quality.”
A 75-photo sampling of Ford’s work from 1971 to 1996 opens today at the University Art Gallery at the UW-La Crosse Center for the Arts.
Ford, who Shepherd Express newspaper called “one of Milwaukee’s best-known, best-respected photographers,” is currently spending much of his effort renovating a studio space he just moved into on Milwaukee’s Water Street, and it was there that I caught up with him last week. Here are some excerpts of our conversation:
When did you first get into photography?
About 1967. I was racing dragsters, and I traded some dragster stuff for two Leica cameras, and I started trying to bug the wire services to use me. I was a stringer for awhile and did some hard news in Chicago and photographed the Democratic national convention in ’68.
What kind of impression did that make?
Well, you know, I wouldn’t say I was a patriot, but I really believed in this country. But at that moment, I thought, boy, this is this bullshit. It really changed me for a while. It kind of radicalized me, like millions of other people. I mean, blah, blah, blah, it’s no big scoop, but it was quite a wild time. A lot of innocent got fucked around. Later, they found out it was mostly undisciplined cops. There wasn’t any conspiracy. But it was still an awful experience to see where our political process was. Being there was really a very intense, bad scene for everybody.
Why did you want to get into photojournalism?
I just liked doing street photography. I knew some commercial photographers in Milwaukee, but they were so cynical and it was pretty weird. I never thought of making big money at photography. It was something that I always did, and I just stumbled into stuff. I mean, photojournalism is really dead, but I started doing a lot of editorial portraits.
Until it folded in June, you were the photo editor of Art Muscle magazine in Milwaukee. When did that start and what was its goal?
That started in ’86. The goal of the magazine was just to talk about art. It was a free publication, It had its ups and downs. It was very eclectic. You never saw the same thing. Some issues were good, some sucked. But it had a good feeling to it, though. It kind of united Milwaukee. I felt real bad when it ended, but I got to do a lot of great portraits along the way, so I was really happy about that.
If the name is new to you, don’t feel bad. Ford – or the magazines he’s worked for – are nowhere near as famous as Liebowitz or Avedon. But the images Ford has made of celebrities and just plain folks from his hometown of Milwaukee have often been just as striking and individual as those of his more celebrated contemporaries.
“There’s a quality of mystery and awe in Frank’s most memorable photographs, be they portraits if his Walker’s Poiunt neighbors or ‘recognizable’ people like filmmaker John Waters actor Willem Dafoe,” wrote John Shiman and Julie Lindemann in a tribute to Ford in Art Muscle, a Milwaukee arts magazine. “Being a fan of personalities, famous and obscure, infuses Frank’s pictures with a bigger-than-life quality.”
A 75-photo sampling of Ford’s work from 1971 to 1996 opens today at the University Art Gallery at the UW-La Crosse Center for the Arts.
Ford, who Shepherd Express newspaper called “one of Milwaukee’s best-known, best-respected photographers,” is currently spending much of his effort renovating a studio space he just moved into on Milwaukee’s Water Street, and it was there that I caught up with him last week. Here are some excerpts of our conversation:
When did you first get into photography?
About 1967. I was racing dragsters, and I traded some dragster stuff for two Leica cameras, and I started trying to bug the wire services to use me. I was a stringer for awhile and did some hard news in Chicago and photographed the Democratic national convention in ’68.
What kind of impression did that make?
Well, you know, I wouldn’t say I was a patriot, but I really believed in this country. But at that moment, I thought, boy, this is this bullshit. It really changed me for a while. It kind of radicalized me, like millions of other people. I mean, blah, blah, blah, it’s no big scoop, but it was quite a wild time. A lot of innocent got fucked around. Later, they found out it was mostly undisciplined cops. There wasn’t any conspiracy. But it was still an awful experience to see where our political process was. Being there was really a very intense, bad scene for everybody.
Why did you want to get into photojournalism?
I just liked doing street photography. I knew some commercial photographers in Milwaukee, but they were so cynical and it was pretty weird. I never thought of making big money at photography. It was something that I always did, and I just stumbled into stuff. I mean, photojournalism is really dead, but I started doing a lot of editorial portraits.
Until it folded in June, you were the photo editor of Art Muscle magazine in Milwaukee. When did that start and what was its goal?
That started in ’86. The goal of the magazine was just to talk about art. It was a free publication, It had its ups and downs. It was very eclectic. You never saw the same thing. Some issues were good, some sucked. But it had a good feeling to it, though. It kind of united Milwaukee. I felt real bad when it ended, but I got to do a lot of great portraits along the way, so I was really happy about that.
Frank Ford is pictured in an archive photo of the Art Muscle magazine staff. From left: Ford, Therese Gantz (business manager and co-publisher), Sam Woodburn (sales manager), Debra Brehmer (editor and publisher), Bob dupha Friedman (music writer).
I understand that before that, you worked at a Kmart and got an interesting exhibit from the job.
I was the camera manager, and I would go through all these photographs. Every day, there’d be three or four that would be so incredibly wild. I’m not talking about nudity or fetishes, just the most incredibly interesting images that’d be like a throwaway. People didn’t even want them, but they were so beautiful. I actually stopped doing street photography because I’d see these “accidents.” So I literally stole these pictures out of these people’s packets, and then this artist I knew said, “You should show these pictures to Ivan Karp at OK Harris Gallery.” So the next time I went to New York in ’75, I went there. The first time I was ever in New York City, the first day, I got a show at OK Harris, and I didn’t even know how big a guy he was until a little while later, and people told me he was the guy who started Andy Warhol. It was a really amazing opening. I was envisioning a show in Milwaukee where your relatives and your parents and a few friends come and, you know, they kind of look at each other and leave. But this was this huge event. I kind of scammed the ultimate scam artists.
You’ve mentioned Richard Avedon as a major influence.
Right around that same time, I had gotten divorced and I was really depressed, really low, thought I was a big failure. And then I saw some of his work at the Marlborough Gallery in 1975 and it really changed my life. I thought his pictures were great. Later I got to photograph him for Art Muscle magazine, and then he wanted to buy the picture, which for me was like winning the lottery.
What was it about his work that you liked so much?
Well, his portraits are so subtle and so intriguing. They just last.
At one point, you changed from the 35-millimeter to the large-format 8x10 view camera. Did that change the way you looked at things?
Oh yeah. The 8x10’s such a slow clunky thing. It changes your aspect of portraiture, makes it slower. Now I use all formats. I get tired of one format, so I still use 35, 2 1/4, 4x5.
How did you choose your subjects?
Most were stories for Art Muscle or Milwaukee magazine. I’ve done some specifically for myself, not driven by an article, but it always seems that when (there is an article), it’s a lot easier for someone to respond to you. You get this sort of entry into their world.
How do non-celebrity types handle the posing sessions?
I always make this analogy. When they made that movie Major League in Milwaukee, there’s 20,000 people out at the ball park the first night to see this movie being made. The second night, there’s 5,000. The third night, there’s 200. They realized that doing a film is like watching grass grow. It’s not glamourous. The same with still photography. People go: “Oh my God, I’m getting my picture taken.” You’re high for about 15 to 30 minutes and then it gets really dull. So I’ll spend like three or four hours setting my lights, trying to get the thing where I want the person to be, and then I plug the person into it for like eight minutes when he or she is having fun. I’m not talking models, now, but a real person. I never want a real person to have to hang around and be bored. That’s like the kiss of death. But when I photographed Willem Dafoe, he gave me like 500 different facial expressions. So the approach is always different.
What subjects have been most memorable?
I would say John Waters. He was a great guy to photograph. He knew how to look. It was one of the few [times] I knew that I had a great picture. There was a guy named Robert Dunn, who was a famous choreographer in modern dance in New York City in the ‘60s. He was like a guru. Being in the guy’s presence was amazing. You could just tell that he was like a spiritual figure. But I’ve had so much fun and really, for me now, it’s more the experience of just hangin’ with someone. To try not to be superficial, not just taking a picture. Although I really want to get the picture, to me it’s more important connecting with someone.
I was the camera manager, and I would go through all these photographs. Every day, there’d be three or four that would be so incredibly wild. I’m not talking about nudity or fetishes, just the most incredibly interesting images that’d be like a throwaway. People didn’t even want them, but they were so beautiful. I actually stopped doing street photography because I’d see these “accidents.” So I literally stole these pictures out of these people’s packets, and then this artist I knew said, “You should show these pictures to Ivan Karp at OK Harris Gallery.” So the next time I went to New York in ’75, I went there. The first time I was ever in New York City, the first day, I got a show at OK Harris, and I didn’t even know how big a guy he was until a little while later, and people told me he was the guy who started Andy Warhol. It was a really amazing opening. I was envisioning a show in Milwaukee where your relatives and your parents and a few friends come and, you know, they kind of look at each other and leave. But this was this huge event. I kind of scammed the ultimate scam artists.
You’ve mentioned Richard Avedon as a major influence.
Right around that same time, I had gotten divorced and I was really depressed, really low, thought I was a big failure. And then I saw some of his work at the Marlborough Gallery in 1975 and it really changed my life. I thought his pictures were great. Later I got to photograph him for Art Muscle magazine, and then he wanted to buy the picture, which for me was like winning the lottery.
What was it about his work that you liked so much?
Well, his portraits are so subtle and so intriguing. They just last.
At one point, you changed from the 35-millimeter to the large-format 8x10 view camera. Did that change the way you looked at things?
Oh yeah. The 8x10’s such a slow clunky thing. It changes your aspect of portraiture, makes it slower. Now I use all formats. I get tired of one format, so I still use 35, 2 1/4, 4x5.
How did you choose your subjects?
Most were stories for Art Muscle or Milwaukee magazine. I’ve done some specifically for myself, not driven by an article, but it always seems that when (there is an article), it’s a lot easier for someone to respond to you. You get this sort of entry into their world.
How do non-celebrity types handle the posing sessions?
I always make this analogy. When they made that movie Major League in Milwaukee, there’s 20,000 people out at the ball park the first night to see this movie being made. The second night, there’s 5,000. The third night, there’s 200. They realized that doing a film is like watching grass grow. It’s not glamourous. The same with still photography. People go: “Oh my God, I’m getting my picture taken.” You’re high for about 15 to 30 minutes and then it gets really dull. So I’ll spend like three or four hours setting my lights, trying to get the thing where I want the person to be, and then I plug the person into it for like eight minutes when he or she is having fun. I’m not talking models, now, but a real person. I never want a real person to have to hang around and be bored. That’s like the kiss of death. But when I photographed Willem Dafoe, he gave me like 500 different facial expressions. So the approach is always different.
What subjects have been most memorable?
I would say John Waters. He was a great guy to photograph. He knew how to look. It was one of the few [times] I knew that I had a great picture. There was a guy named Robert Dunn, who was a famous choreographer in modern dance in New York City in the ‘60s. He was like a guru. Being in the guy’s presence was amazing. You could just tell that he was like a spiritual figure. But I’ve had so much fun and really, for me now, it’s more the experience of just hangin’ with someone. To try not to be superficial, not just taking a picture. Although I really want to get the picture, to me it’s more important connecting with someone.
Mike Starling's original music is heard on numerous recordings and soundtracks, and his stories and photos have been featured in books, films, mags and other media.
starlingarchive.weebly.com is the authorized website for samples of published work by the Wisconsin-based writer, artist and musician Mike Starling. Photo of Starling on assignment in Ireland by J. Winke. Francis Ford photo by Troy Freund. Website developed and managed by Nine Volt Media. ©MMXX-MMXXIII. All rights reserved.