Monocled Alchemist

psychedelic unknowns

Summer Day | Photography | June 1967

Summer day at the Serpentine | Pursuing a theory that photography requires only the minimum of effort, FERI LUKACS takes his camera along to London’s lido and finds some lively material in the shape of sun-worshippers

Summer Day | Photography | June 1967 | A FRIEND once told me that he could never understand why photographers went chasing around in search of subjects. According to his maxim there are unlimited supplies subject-matter at every corner; all one has to do is sit and wait.

So one glorious ‘I/250 at f/16’ day last summer I thought I’d put this into practice. I went along to London‘s lido (known local as the Serpentine) in Hyde Park, sat down . . . and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long; in fact it wasn’t a case of waiting at all. The subjects were there in hundreds—and in all shapes and sizes. My main problem was to prevent an itchy trigger-finger from firing off a day’s quota of film in the first five minutes.

I had of course dressed—or rather undressed—for the occasion, and having anointed myself with sun-tan lotion I began to absorb both this and the scenery. Fortunately I arrived at the lido fairly early and was able choose my vantage point before the grounds became packed. (Also, an early arrival at a place like this seems to make one a ‘host’, instead of an intruder).

I fitted the 200mm lens on to my Asahi Pentax and started to shoot. The 200mm is an ideal piece of equipment for this type of work: it focuses down to about 8ft., is fairly light and well balanced, and is long enough to isolate subjects in a crowd. With the pre-set aperture I found it quicker to change the shutter speed instead of the stop. Owing to the rather harsh lighting contrast I decided to work to the old, familiar rule of ‘over-expose, under-develop’, which subsequently resulted in a batch of excellent negatives with plenty of shadow detail.

After the first hectic half-hour, during which I fired away at everything in sight, I settled down to a more selective programme. Not all my shots were winners: people have a disconcerting habit of walking in front of the lens at precisely the wrong moment, and there’s nothing quite so unpleasant as a picture of an out-of-focus rear!

Most of the subjects, however, presented little difficulty. It was mainly a case of keeping an eye open for interesting shapes(!), and the odd, fleeting incident that turns a picture into something more than a mere record. Work at the lido can be embarrassing for the uninitiated—and sometimes nerve-wracking. I had just lowered my camera after taking a shot of a particularly attractive bronzed figure in a rather brief bikini when her boyfriend spotted me. He got up slowly, walked over to me and stood looking down from nearly seven feet. Lowering all of his sixteen stone, he brought his face level with mine . . .

“Could you please send me a print?” he asked, ever so gently. “With pleasure”, I whispered . . .