What do Chris Killip’s images on the North of England tell us about the politics of Thatcherism and its impact on the urban environment?

6 May

In this article, I will examine the socio-political commentary in Chris Killip's photos. I focus on his key collection, “In Flagrante” (Killip et al. 1988). Killip's photos reflect late 20th-century Britain and show the interplay between aesthetics, politics, and socio-economic changes. The article aims to explain the nuanced dialectics between Killip's visuals and the broader Thatcherite Britain. I rigorously examine Killip's methods, themes, and reception history. I will try to reveal the deep political critique in his photos. Killip's work is set in the context of de-industrialisation and the rise of neoliberal policies. I will aim to find how his imagery reflects the complex dynamics of class, identity, and social justice in today's Britain.

The article draws on insights from disciplines like art history, sociology, and cultural studies. It aims to fully analyse Killip's role in the discussion on documentary photography and socio-political critique. I will engage with critical perspectives and scholarly discourse. Finally, I will explain the lasting relevance of Killip's work - it matters in the broader fields of visual culture and socio-political inquiry.

Chris Killip is one of the most prominent British documentary photographers in the last century. Born in 1946 on the Isle of Man, Killip has dedicated his career to extensively documenting the repercussions of de-industrialisation in Northern England, which has defined his work (Campany 2009). Walter Benn Michaels and Daniel Zamora (2018), point out that if Salgado photographs the working man, Kilip photographs the unemployed. Kilip captures de-industrialisation and the loss of working class life (Michaels and Zamora 2018). In this essay, I will explore the link between the beauty of Killip’s work and the politics, society, and economy of the north. I will do this through his book “In Flagrante”’ (1988).

The landscape of Thatcherism

After the 1973 oil crisis, Britain faced economic turmoil. It included stagflation and rising unemployment, under the Labour government of James Callaghan, the Prime Minister, who faced intense pressure from conflicts with the trade unions (Jackson and Saunders 2012). By 1978-1979, a series of widespread strikes, referred to as The Winter of Discontent, halted Britain. They crippled key sectors, like transportation and healthcare and the nation faced a crisis, with hospitals closed, rubbish piled up, and essential services stopped (Jessop 1989). This all happened due to protests over pay freezes and poor working conditions. The Thatcher government swept to power in 1979 in the midst of this crisis. It quickly implemented a series of neoliberal policies, to reform our economic structure away from manufacturing to a service-based economy. However, this led to a focus of investment in certain areas of Britain and resulted in job losses in other areas of the country (Jackson and Saunders 2012).

Killip’s work is mostly based around the Newcastle region of northern England. It was a region in rapid decline since the oil crisis in 1973, and therefore this process of de-industrialisation began from the mid 1970s. However, it is commonly associated with Thatcherism. This is because de-industrialisation propelled when Thatcher's government implemented neo-liberal economic policies between 1979 and mid 1980’s (Martin 1986). Newcastle itself was badly affected by the politics of Thatcherism due to the decline of shipbuilding in Britain, alongside manufacturing and coal mining in the region. Nationally, unemployment rose during the early years of the Thatcher government. But regions like Newcastle felt the impact more severely, the unemployment rate increased rapidly, from 8% to 18% between 1979 and 1982. Therefore, few local jobs within the city were only able to provide work for 38% of the male working population (Vall and Högskola 2007). Inevitably, it meant that in some districts of the city the majority of the men were out of work, due to few employment prospects available locally. If we read the works of Marx and Engels, HG Wells, DH Lawrence, and other writers, we see a similarity in how these writers viewed the industrial landscape affecting people’s ability to be human (Pasinella 2014). In Killip’s work, he is following similar themes of understanding how social processes intersect with ordinary people’s lives but through devastating abandonment of deindustrialisation.

Chris Killip’s “In Flagrante”

Killip began photographing the region in 1975. His work reflects an exploration of the social and economic changes of de-industrialisation. It also reflects the human impact of these changes. Industrialisation created large factories, whereas deindustrialisation left manufacturing workplaces to decay (Cowie and Heathcott 2003). Killip's photos provide a poignant counterpoint to the narrative of Thatcherite triumphalism. They offer a stark reminder of the human cost of economic and social change. The images show the abandonment and betrayal felt by many in the North. His images reveal the impact of successive governments putting market-driven reforms first, at the expense of working-class communities' welfare. Also, Thatcherism affected more than the economy. It touched on broader issues of social justice and inequality. As we look through his images over this period, we witness this process and its impact on local people and the landscape around them (Dilnot 2011).

We can see this in his book ‘In Flagrante” (Killip 1988). He produced the work over 12 years, from 1973 to 1985, while travelling through the northern English region (Zellen 2017). The book opens with a short poem 'He wishes for the clothes of heaven' by Yeats, who places romantic dreams over material riches. The poem outlines that the poor have delicate dreams, reflecting on how people become victims of economics (Killip et al. 1988).

Killip then opens the books with these words

"The objective narrative of England holds little weight if one lacks belief in it, and I certainly do not. Likewise, I doubt anyone portrayed in these photographs harbours such belief, as they confront the harsh realities of deindustrialisation within a system that deems their lives expendable. To the people in these photographs I am superfluous, my life does not depend upon their struggles, only my hopes.”

“This is a subjective book about my time in England. I take what isn't mine and I covet other people's lives. The photographs can tell you more about me than about what they describe.

This book is a fiction about metaphor."

Killip is arguing that his photos show a moment of what Stuart Hall would identify as conjuncture (Hay et al. 2013). At this moment, they represent something anti-ruling. He does not support the government's narrative of England and seems to argue that his subject might also harbour the same view (Gilbert 2019). However, we do not know this as their voices are not present in the work. Instead, he tells us the book is about his feelings about this process, and his ability to see their resilience to industrial decay. I would argue that the quote sets the scene for us to question some key issues. They are about the formal relationship between the photographer, the subject, the landscape, and the image. The first image in "In Flagrante" (1988) shows this. It shows a lady with her hands on her knees and a shadow of what is Killip using a large format camera. Killip is arguing that the pictures are about him. He deliberately cast a shadow over the woman and his presence is cast upon the community in the North of England. The picture presents itself as if Killip’s imagery is a snapshot of the struggles faced by people living within this region.

Killip’s opening quote and images present two issues which are worth exploring. The first one is about his method and the development of a working-class aesthetic. This relates to the moment when the photo was captured. The second one details with how people receive the actual print and what happens after the photograph is taken.

The taking of the image and the development of a working-class aesthetic in Killip’s work

Killip's work depicts joyful activities, they include beach outings, childhood play, street festivities, and the traditional miners' gala, however they are poignant in its portrayal of a lack of joy. In the book, the predominant images are of desolate bus queues, dilapidated housing, and disenchanted punk youths. This sharp contrast evokes a deep sense of the subjects' disillusionment and the harsh realities they face. It leaves a strong impression on the viewer and provides insights into the economic disparities worsened by Thatcherite policies (Carlin 2023). This creates a narrative that goes beyond documentation and offers a nuanced commentary on the human experience during economic upheaval.

Killip does not interview or seek to work with his subjects. We do not hear their voices, though we do see them and the landscape in which they live. Despite this, Killip's method is immersive. It is marked by a commitment to the truth of the moment (Michaels and Zamora 2018). Michaels and Zomoar (2018), suggest this class's beauty comes from slowly immersing in the environments that formed his subject. Killip engaged with the communities he documented and spent years with his subjects so that they would know him and feel comfortable in his presence. This marks his methodology, as both the photographic artist and an ethnographer (Foster 1996). He fostered close relationships with his subjects and these connections went beyond the usual limits of reportage or documentation. This enabled Killip to move beyond watching and he delved into nuanced depth of the effects of vanishing work. However, as an artist, Killip recognised he was only playing at being an ethnographer. He photographed an entire culture as easily consumable aesthetic text, homogenising the variation of experience within the region.

His work can be read in different ways. On the one hand Killip's goal is to capture the truth of his subjects. He aims to go beyond their link to, or reduction to, the themes of job loss and industry decline (Jackson and Saunders 2012), and through a degree of observation and the approach taken towards subjects his work uncovers physical, psychological, and political dimensions. On the other hand, as he admits in the second half of the "In Flagrante" epigraph, his work is superfluous in the lives of those he photographs. He recognises that his existence is not contingent upon their struggles but rather on his aspirations. His work is not a real collaboration, as he does not let his subjects be involved in the actual making of the photograph. Furthermore, sometimes using false lenses to hide the focus of his camera. Moreover, the absence of real collaboration means that the subjects are not invested in the work and therefore not a true reflection of the community. However, as Michaels and Zomoar (2018), it is this closeness and detachment which make the strength of his work.

The afterlife of the images and Killip’s relationship to his own work

Killip’s images show disconnected relationships within the frame. They are potent artefacts of the class structure. They reflect the different selves shaped by broader political and economic forces. He challenges viewers to think about the images. Killip prompts reflection on the complexities of class dynamics in Britain. He does this without using simple emotions. However, his images are often linked to an anti-Thatcherite agenda. But he says they are not mainly political or meant to serve a political purpose. Gerry Badger noted this in the 2008 edition's foreword: "In Flagrante” is not a full record of the Thatcher government” (Michaels and Zamora, 2018).

When interviewed in 2017 Killip states

“I don’t see myself as a political photographer, but I have a political viewpoint. I’m more of a sociological photographer. I got a bit fed up with people always categorising my pictures along with the Thatcher years; the meaning was taken away from me.” (Zellen 2017).

Here we can interpret this comment to highlight the detachment of Killip as an ethnographer trying to understand his subjects, and Killip as an artist, to that of a political artist, who actually wants to alter and intervene in the world (Swinson 2001). At one level this is understandable, a work of art has to be able to sustain itself beyond the moment, and he did not want to be pigeonholed as a working class Northern photographer. This is understandable given the difficulties photographers such as Tish Murtha face in accessing the art world (Paul 2023). Killip is making work for an art gallery and art book. His work is not intended to be used in political rallies, meetings or for campaigns. Here if we examine the work through the work of Bourdieu we can see the role of the arts in class cohesion among elites (Ostrower 1998), and this work is developing a working class aesthetic, to elicit sympathy and understanding but not necessarily an intervention from the audience.

The photographs

Chris Killip, Two girls, Grangetown, Middlesborough, 1975, In Flagrante Page 50-51 (Killip et al. 1988). Killip’s image displays two young girls converse on a pavement, their bond suggesting shared experiences amidst their working-class surroundings. Adjacent stands a terraced house, emblematic of the era's communities, with an open gate hinting at their origin. Rows of small gardens in the mid-ground, despite economic hardships, reflect resilience amidst industrial decline. In the background looms a factory, its chimneys emitting smoke, symbolising the industrial heritage shaping the region's landscape. Contrary to conventional narratives of urban decay and desolation, Killip's portrayal exudes a sense of vitality and camaraderie. The girls' smiles, juxtaposed against the backdrop of industrial infrastructure, speak to the resilience and spirit of community that thrived amidst adversity.

Indeed, this image serves as a testament to the symbiotic relationship between working-class children and their surroundings, illustrating how they become intricately woven into the fabric of their environment. Through his lens, Killip invites viewers to contemplate the intricate interplay between politics, economics, and identity, prompting a re-evaluation of the human experience within the context of deindustrialisation. As such, this image transcends mere documentation, acting as a conduit for empathy and understanding, compelling us to bear witness to the lived realities of those depicted.

Chris Killip, Wallsend housing, Tyneside, 1977, In Flagrante Page 4-5 (Killip et al. 1988). Killips photo taken on Gerald St, once the site of the Swan Hunter shipyard in Wallsend, vividly portrays the impact of deindustrialisation. Against a backdrop of wintry desolation, two figures navigate through barren terrain, highlighting the area's abandonment. The absence of the shipyard, once a skyline landmark, underscores the economic upheaval experienced by the community (Dilnot, 2011). Graffiti bearing the message "Don’t vote, prepare for a revolution" speaks to the disillusionment within deindustrialised communities. This declaration reflects a sense of betrayal by successive governments and their policies, perpetuating economic marginalisation.

Crucially, this image challenges simplistic narratives that seek to attribute blame solely to the Thatcher era. Indeed, as Killip himself observed, the injustices depicted in his work transcend partisan politics, their roots extending far beyond any single administration. Instead, they are symptomatic of broader structural inequities inherent in the globalised economics and neglect by policymakers. By capturing the visceral realities of deindustrialisation, Killip's lens offers a searing indictment of a system that has failed to safeguard the dignity and livelihoods of those it purportedly serves.

Killip’s photograph taken at the 1984 Durham Miner’s Gala, depicts a scene of solidarity during the miners' strike. At its centre, a figure is obscured by a socialist worker sign proclaiming, "victory to the miners" and "stop the Tory attacks." Despite expressions of defiance, the image's primary focal point is a man wearing a pig mask and a police hat, positioned just behind the determined strikers. This satirical portrayal of the police as pigs underscores the unjust tactics employed against the miners during the strike, highlighting how law enforcement often served as instruments of government rhetoric rather than upholders of justice. Despite being captured amidst a celebration, the photograph serves as a poignant reminder of the ongoing struggle faced by the mining communities. In the broader context of the book, this image serves as a testament to the enduring sense of community and resistance amidst adversity. It encapsulates the spirit of solidarity that defined the miners' strike, offering a powerful visual narrative of struggle and resilience.

In conclusion, the examination of Chris Killip's photos shows a deep meeting of aesthetics, politics, and social and economic realities in late 20th-century Britain. Through our examinations, we have discerned the subtle socio-political commentary in Killip's imagery. It offers a critical look at the complexities of Thatcherite Britain. Killip's method is characterised by deep engagement with his subjects and commitment to truth. It goes beyond mere documentation to give insights into the human experience during economic upheaval. We have placed his work in the context of de-industrialisation and the rise of neoliberal policies. Doing this has shown how Killip's imagery mirrors the struggles of working-class communities in Northern England.

Also, our analysis shows that Killip's has made an enduring, relevant, and big contribution to discussions on documentary photography and socio-political critique. We have used art history, sociology, and cultural studies to engage across disciplines. Through this, we have shown the deep political critique in Killip's work. It challenges viewers to think hard about the complex class dynamics and social justice in today's Britain.

Killip's photos are a potent artefact of the Thatcherite era. They offer a powerful story of resilience, resistance, and resilience amid socio-economic change. We reflect on Killip's imagery. It compels us to confront the lasting legacies of de-industrialisation and neoliberal policies. But it also shows the enduring spirit and resilience of communities in the face of adversity. In the end, Killip's work stays relevant. It provokes thought about the politics of the past and present. It reminds us of the power of art to show the complexities of human experience and social change.

References

Campany, D. 2009. Chris Killip. Photoworks 12, p. 46.

Carlin, B. 2023. Chris Killip, retrospective. Available at: https://contemporary.burlington.org.uk/reviews/reviews/chris-killip-retrospective [Accessed: 2 May 2024].

Cowie, J. and Heathcott, J. 2003. Beyond the Ruins: The Meanings of Deindustrialization. Cornell University Press.

Dilnot, C. 2011. Chris Killip, Seacoal. Steidl, Göttingen 2011,.

Foster, H. 1996. 10. The Artist as Ethnographer? In: Traffic in Culture. University of California Press, pp. 302–309.

Gilbert, J. 2019. This Conjuncture: For Stuart Hall. New Formations 96(96-97), pp. 5–37.

Hay, J. et al. 2013. Interview with Stuart Hall. Communication and Critical/Cultural Studies 10(1), pp. 10–33.

Jackson, B. and Saunders, R. 2012. Making Thatcher’s Britain. Cambridge University Press.

Jessop, B. 1989. Thatcherism: The British Road to Post-Fordism? Department of Government, University of Essex.

Killip, C. et al. 1988. In flagrante. (No Title) . Available at: https://cir.nii.ac.jp/crid/1130282272326952832 .

Killip, C. 2015. Chris Killip: In Flagrante Two. Steidl.