Morgan Hill-Murphy
MORGAN HILL-MURPHY’S INQUISITIVE EYE AND POETIC-REALIST STYLE BRINGS INTRIGUE AND INTEREST TO BOTH HIS FASHION WORK AND HIS PERSONAL AND DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHY.
Stray moments are given new weight in Morgan’s photography. His portraits retain their intimacy without sacrificing their attitude, and his street and documentary photography deploys small but powerful gestures—using subtle eye-lines, composition, and shadows—to beckon your gaze deeper into the frame, or across a series.
This following series is titled “Between Light and Storm” (the title is borrowed from an Esther Woolfson piece in Granta) and finds Morgan working in a more pastoral, contemplative mode—but the same delicacy with lighting remains, as does his curious preoccupation with the space between stillness and movement. TSUKI chatted to Morgan about his process and life during lockdown.
BETWEEN LIGHT AND STORM
HOW DO YOU CREATE AT HOME? HOW HAS THIS BEEN DIFFERENT FROM YOUR REGULAR PROCESS?
My work on the whole is divided into two components—my fashion work and my documentary work—and I’ve worked hard to marry those two elements. Not being able to be in a room with your collaborators or teams of people has stopped the vast majority of fashion work dead in its tracks so I took the opportunity to get in a reportage mindset. This meant not setting up shots per se but looking out for moments which summed up the experience; moments of nostalgia which ordinarily would pass by.
HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO WORK IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD OR YOUR STUDIO DURING THIS SITUATION? OR JUST FROM HOME?
Just before lockdown my mother had a pretty dramatic accident whilst away with an outdoors charity that she runs. So we had a conversation and I packed for a long weekend and headed back to make sure she was alright, with the intention of returning to London after. As it happens we were then locked-down that following day for two months. Lucky I had two rolls of film with me (and unluckily, only three days’ worth of clothes) so I went about sparingly documenting the village she lives in, the new habits I formed, and began experimenting with shooting some of the people there.
HAS THIS SITUATION REQUIRED YOU TO TRY SOMETHING NEW?
For me and a lot of other people I know, finding practical work to do was key to keeping sane during lockdown. As a result, I’ve come out of lockdown with a parquet table I put together, as well as a lot of idiosyncratic picture frames, and a new penchant for spoon whittling. In the long term I’d like very much to bring all these elements together and have a more diverse practice—if I can make it sustainable and keep both my thumbs intact.
HOW ARE YOU STAYING INSPIRED AND MOTIVATED?
Something interesting happens when the opportunity to work or make progress is completely removed, because suddenly for once as an artist (and this no doubt applies across the spectrum of society), for a short period of time your lack of success can’t be blamed on yourself. As a result, I managed to take steps towards an exhibition I’ve been mulling over for a while without the guilt of feeling like I should be pursuing commercial work. This isn’t to say that like many others there haven’t been periods of—let’s be real here—depression and anxiety, which I know is something many people I’ve spoken to have also experienced.
HOW HAS LOCKDOWN LIFE ALTERED YOUR WORK?
Since lockdown happened to us all without the element of choice it was an extraordinary circumstance that we’ve all had to contend with. As a result I’ve found that I’m a lot less married to London than I originally felt, and I’m potentially freer in my practice as a whole. For a definitive answer I think we’ll have to revisit this question in a year’s time, when we may or may not have returned to some kind of normality.
ARE THERE ANY POSITIVE—OR NEGATIVE—CHANGES YOU CAN SEE COMING OUT OF THIS SITUATION?
Since wrapping this project, the murder of George Floyd has sparked huge movements across the world against police brutality, institutional racism and insidious inequality. It seemed inconceivable to think just a few weeks ago the pandemic could be overshadowed, but today as I type this we could be in the process of seeing a genuine sea-change across the world. Before the US election in 2016 Slavoj Žižek said that he was hoping Trump would win, because the depravity of such an outcome would force real change, and today I hope that on this silver lining he was right.
WHO ELSE’S WORK COULD YOU SEE FEATURED ON TSUKI?
This is a tough question because there are a lot of people doing things I admire who would be good for TSUKI. Some inspirations that I’m lucky to call friends include Parker Woods, Francesca Allen, Jacques Brun, Melissa Arras and my Italian connection Luca Capponi, who continues to make incredible work documenting the agony and ecstasy of Sicily and beyond.
Ultimately I’d also peer into a life completely different than mine—I’d love to start seeing work from Iran, Turkey, Russia, Djibouti, or anywhere completely outside of my sphere, and see how they’ve been weathering the storm.
HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING / LISTENING / READING ANYTHING INTERESTING?
I recently finished reading Snow Falling on the Cedars by David Guterson which is beautiful, relevant, and thought provoking. On a purely indulgent level I’m insisting that everyone I know watches Blood Machines on Shudder at the moment.
The title of this photo-essay comes from a short piece by Esther Woolfson published in Granta. It’s a fascinating dive into the human relationship with animals and the natural world; about our relationship with death and indeed, life. As a photographer a lot of the time you can feel like a reactionary or a passive observer, so when you find a piece of writing which sheds light on your own work it can be a real moment of clarity.