The life and times of Dennis Morris, the man behind some of music’s most iconic photographs

It’s Nice That (INT): The exhibition features a lot of your early work. What’s it been like to look back to the early stages of your career?

Dennis Morris (DM): To me, it’s really just been a matter of going through my memories, back to my past. I’ve had lots of memories coming back of the time, the vibe, the living conditions… you know.

INT: What was it that initially drew you to photography?

DM: I grew up in the East End of London. I was a choir boy in a church – St Mark’s in Dalston – and the church had a benefactor, a man by the name of Donald Patterson, who was a manufacturer of photographic equipment. One of the things he did was create a photographic club for the choir boys, and I was nine when I first saw the magic of the processing of photography. I walked into the darkroom in the church and saw one of the older boys printing a photograph and going through the whole process. And from that moment on, I just knew I just wanted that to be my life. I just wanted to be a photographer in every shape or form. Mr Patterson saw my enthusiasm and, I suppose, my potential, and took me under his wings, gave me books and magazines to read and took me to museums and galleries – he really encouraged me.

INT: Nine! Very young.

DM: Well, it’s funny when you say it’s very young. But you know, when I look at kids today – the age of five or so – they’ve got mobile phones in their hands, and they know exactly what they’re doing! I suppose then it may have been unique, but for me it was nothing special; it was just something I just wanted to do and I eventually mastered it.

INT: One thing that is so clear across all your images of musicians is how comfortable they seem. Often with photos of musicians are posed, awkward or they just seem a bit disgruntled – your images are the opposite of this. What do you think it is about your process that puts people at ease?

DM: My ambition was never to be a musician photographer, my ambition was to be a war photographer. My influence was reportage; I was influenced by people like Cartier-Bresson and Don McCullin. Reportage really is a study of the human psyche in some sense, it’s about getting close to your subject, getting to know your subject, getting to know what your subject is about. So for me, from Bob Marley to the Sex Pistols and to any other bands I’ve worked with, it’s really a matter of getting to know them so they could relax.

I never really did shots of bands against a wall, and even when I worked in a studio with a band, my approach was never really like a ‘studio session’ it was much more informal, much more personal. My objective was to take away the mask. Because, you know, all pop stars wear a mask.

INT: Another thing I love about your photography is that you didn't really stick to one ‘genre’ of music. Speaking to my parents who were growing up at the same time as music lovers, it sounds like there was very much this thing of like, you like reggae, or you like punk, or you like folk. But you really photographed across genres. What was it that drew you to depicting this breadth?

DM: Because I really looked at music as being part of life – like the title of the book, Music and Life. Music is a very vital part of people’s lives in one shape or another. Great music can lift you or bring you down. Great music is like a book, it’s very informative. And so for me, the way I approach music, was that it was way more than just ‘music’.

INT: On that point, the exhibition doesn’t just focus on musicians, it focuses on the social period as well – the people and places you encountered growing up. What do you think it adds to having these massive stars alongside ‘everyday’ people?

DM: I think when you look at the exhibition’s sections ‘Body of Work’, or ‘Growing up Black’, which both look at the social conditions of the West Indian community in the East End, it gives you an insight into how we were living and how we were building our community. But then – the same thing again – when you look at all these pictures, there’s that thread that links them to music. In the same way, when you look at the images taken in Southall, there’s a shot of a man and when I met him, and I said to him “What’s your most important, expensive possession?”, and he picked up a transistor radio. Again, that link to music.

Music has always been that connection. Whatever your surroundings, no matter how poor or rich you are, whatever, there’s always that link to music in one shape or another. That’s the way that you know, if you’re living really bad but you’re playing your favourite music, it takes you, elevates you, out of your surroundings for one moment, for the song or the LP – you’re in your happy space. So that’s the link, all the way through it. So for my social documentation, through all my music pictures, you can see that link, that thread – it’s all interconnected.

INT: Do you think there was much a bigger connection between music and style and social life then, than there is today? As you’re saying, you could maybe sense what music someone played or liked by how they dressed. Do you think that’s apparent now, or much the same?

DM: It’s much the same, but it’s become more commercialised. It’s changing, because when you look at, for instance, pictures I did when I worked with Sex Pistols, and you look at the fans, the style was very important. Back then, because of lack of money, what you did was you created your own style, you created your own look. Now, because of the influence of punk, you can buy all those styles, you know. Back then, we ripped our jeans, or we bleached our jeans, now you can buy them ripped or bleached. But there’s still that connection between the fashion and the music.

INT: I’m thinking of when I would go to Topshop when I was younger, and come back with tie dye and ripped jeans. My mum would be like, “What? Like, you can buy these things now?”

DM: Now you buy your trainers with the dirty look like they’ve being worn. Crazy! You’re paying a lot of money for something that you can basically do yourself. It’s about the label now.

INT: Do you think we’ve lost that DIY essence?

DM: Yeah, completely.

INT: That’s a really a nice sentiment. I feel like some artists and photographers can sometimes want their work to be restricted, and only seen in certain settings, but it seems like you really want your work to be seen and shared.

DM: Yeah, totally. I mean, for instance, the exhibition opened in Paris, first, the Maison Européenne de la Photographie, and it was a massive success! It’s the most successful show they’ve had in their 50-year history. Basically, when people walked into the museum, everybody came out with a smile on their face, everyone came out feeling lifted. Because what we did was we created this environment, this vibe, so that you walk through social documentation – you could see how things were back then – you could see how people were still very positive, regardless of the condition. Then you know, you go into the punk vibe. You’ve heard a lot about the Sex Pistols, but when you looked at it, you realise that they’re actually humans – they weren’t just something you saw in a tabloid. You got an idea of what they were like as individuals.

INT: Definitely. Your work’s got a really nice nostalgia about it, but also, at the same time it, it feels very current – it doesn’t feel dated at all. Maybe that’s because music has such a lasting quality?

DM: Yeah, I totally agree. Some of the social documentation from the 70s, when you look at the picture, it could be taken now. When you look at the bands, it’s the same thing. A lot of it could be taken now, in terms of the look or the sound, or what it may be saying. I think that’s what I’ve been able to capture – a timeless scenario. That’s what I’ve always wanted – my images to be timeless. The whole thing about photography is capturing that moment. You might look at a photograph you’ve taken, with your friends from say, 20 years ago, and you look at it now, and everything comes back. You can remember the conversation, you can remember the vibes, you can remember the whole thing. It’s timeless. You don’t think of like, oh my god, that was 20 years ago! It’s like it was yesterday.