You would expect to see lots of action shots at a solo exhibition of a Formula One Grand Prix photographer.儲存倉 At least that's what I thought. But I should have taken my cue from the title: Waiting: A Decade of Life in Grand Prix Pit Lane. Richard Kelley spent more than a decade photographing some of the most legendary drivers during the golden era of the motor sport. While other photographers positioned in lane corners eagerly anticipated action shots, perhaps even spectacular accidents, Kelley preferred to "shoot from the pit stop, to capture the humanity behind the race." The idea of "waiting" seems out of place - especially when F1 is supposed to be all about speed. Kelley, though, believes the reason that these drivers are so fast is all those moments of waiting. "These are the times when the drivers have the time to reflect upon and take everything that they have seen, smelled and felt during the test-runs to apply to the changes they made to the car. When they are waiting is when they are most involved with what they were doing, other than racing." Then a 19-year-old freshman photojournalism student, he picked up a copy of Road & Track in 1972 and was intrigued by F1 team owner Rob Walker's account of the 1970 British Grand Prix. "I knew that I had to be a part of that life; whatever it took." As a stringer for the Associated Press, he had his first F1 experience near New York at the United States Grand Prix at Watkins Glen on October 6, 1972. Entering the pit lane, it took him a few minutes to get his heart to stop racing. He had walked into "heaven." "That's where I found my soul and everything that made me who I am," he says. Back then, automotive racing was far more dangerous than it is today. "Drivers had an 85 percent chance of dying in a crash,'' he says - but they continued to go on the track. "Frankly, these people live a different life than everybody else. When they get into a car, they figuratively have one foot in the grave." It was this great passion and commitment that kept Kelley hooked. Most of the time, he would sit at the pit stop and be a fly on the wall. During practice sessions, the cars would come in and drivers would stop and have discussions in the open with their team managers and engineers about the performance of the car. Kelley would hold up his camera and capture the subtle emotions of these drivers, but he would never join in their 迷你倉最平onversations. He was there when Enzo Ferrari personally signed Gilles Villeneuve to an F1 contract. He captured the moment when Niki Lauda congratulated James Hunt for having just won the 1977 US Grand Prix driving for McLaren. He recorded the scene when Alain Prost scowled as he recalled his disappointing practice session for the 1982 Detroit Grand Prix. However, there were hard times too, times he wishes he could forget, because somebody he knew was "lost." In the 12 years he was documenting Formula One, 18 drivers lost their lives. "It got to a point where I didn't want to do this any more because I got tired of seeing these wonderful men lost. You get close to them when you sit there with your lenses focusing on somebody's face for 15 to 20 minutes. You begin to get to know their personality." One of the most compelling portraits is that of French driver Francois Cevert two minutes before he died during the 1973 Watkins Glen qualifying session.Cevert is seen lost in thought as his team designers discuss possible suspension adjustments. This portrait has haunted Kelley all his life - and these are the sad moments that he never got used to witnessing. Today, shooting an F1 Grand Prix is much more difficult, as the organizers mostly only grant photographic passes to accredited journalists. Even if you try to take a shot with a long lens - with the teams all helmeted and very cautious about their surroundings and conversations exchanged over hidden microphones - it is almost impossible to get the kind of portraits Kelley captured over the years. Kelley himself is no stranger to burning rubber. From 1978 to 1992, he had a racing career. His own experiences on the racetrack also helped as he understood more about what was actually happening. If he saw something, he would immediately know what events would follow and prepare better for the next photo opportunity. "Because once you've breathed it, once you understand the dynamics, it is the strongest drug in the entire world. It is intoxicating," he says. "You would really want to experience that kind of passion, commitment and exhilaration. It is not only about the speed, but the challenge. It is what you have within you that you are willing to put on the line and see if you can make something happen." The exhibition is on in the gallery space at Gramercy on 38 Caine Road, Central, until Thursday. mercy.lo@singtaonewscorp.com 迷你倉
- Nov 01 Fri 2013 09:14
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Slow in the fast lane
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