Extract from 'Scottishness' - Albert Watson

About survival

I GAVE a speech recently – I'm not a great speech-maker, but gave it my best shot – about how when I first came to New York I was introduced to Richard Avedon, who was at the height of his fame, and that he had told me there were more than 10,000 photographers working in the city and making a name for myself would be tough. I told him: "But, I have a secret weapon: I'm Scottish." Education, the work ethic, ambition, discipline: just four things given to me by my heritage, but each absolutely crucial to success in anything you do.

My father was actually from Sunderland, but the north of England has more in common with Scotland than it has with the south and when he came out of the navy after the war he would spend the majority of his life there. I remember watching Scotland play football and him cheering for them, even against England (though today, if England is playing someone other than Scotland, I'll support England; I can't stand the triviality of supporting whoever England is playing). My father was a boxer, and then he went to teacher training college and became a gym instructor. He was a very patient man and I inherited that from him. My mother has great energy and that peculiar Scottish resolve. I'm told my grandmother was very ambitious, starting several businesses. So, you can see the mix there.

I had a good Scottish education. I went to the Rudolph Steiner School in Edinburgh – my mother had heard of its reputation – from age four to 12 and that was a pretty positive experience. My wife Liz was at Steiner – there's a school photograph of us sitting next to each other – and our grandchildren are at Steiner here in New York also. After there, I went to school in Penicuik where my mum had a hairdressers and where she still lives. I remember during the summer I would go into Edinburgh, to a place in Princes Street opened by Cadbury called the Chocolate House. It was quite a fancy place, but not too expensive. It opened at 10am and you could go in and have a hot chocolate or a cappuccino, which in those days – this would be 1957, I was 15 – was very exotic. I used to pick up an Italian newspaper, actually knowing only one or two words of the language, and pretend to read, pretend to be Italian. Some might say, were you not proud to be Scottish? It wasn't about that, it was the fantasy of being in another part of the world; would you rather be here or in Tuscany or Paris? Of course today there would be no competition; I would be living in Edinburgh. There would only be one drawback to living in Scotland now for me: I would be 28 stone because all the time I would eat rolls and bacon, pie and chips, macaroon bars and Irn Bru.

I left school at 18, Liz and I got married and we moved to London where she worked in the Foreign Office and I was a scientific assistant in the Air Ministry. We came back after a year and I got a job in Duncan's chocolate factory but also sat entrance exams for Edinburgh University and Dundee College of Art. I chose Dundee, did two years' general study and then two years in graphic design which included a photography element; my first connection with the form. Towards the final year, I won a scholarship from IBM to tour America in the summer of 1966, which made a big impression. I came back and studied film at the Royal College of Art in London. Being part of that Sixties generation there was a terrific will to succeed artistically. In my class alone there was Tony Scott and Bruce Beresford the film-makers, Stephen Goldblatt the cinematographer, and Storm Thorgerson, who designed some of the most iconic album covers. It was a great period and had a real influence because we were all so competitive.

Ironically, I did not leave Scotland as a way of making it like so many others have done; in 1970 my wife got a teaching job in California, so I came as her dependant along with our two children Norman and Aaron. I met an art director at Max Factor who offered me a two-hour photographic session. In the end, I worked from dawn until dusk and when I showed him the results he was astounded. I don't think I've impressed anyone as much since. It felt like that old Scottish thing, 'you did your best', but on that day I really did do my best. They bought six pictures for $900, except my wife realised I had misread the purchase order and it was actually $9000. That moment changed everything.

I am a workaholic. I remember starting a day in Paris at 7.30am photographing Catherine Deneuve for French Vogue. At 11am I caught Concorde and flew to JFK. By 8.30am New York time I was in my studio in Manhattan working on a cosmetics ad. At 5.30pm, I flew to Los Angeles to photograph Frank Zappa for an album cover. That pattern is not unusual so my work doesn't leave a great deal of time to socialise, especially with any expats. My sons are my friends. But when you work with a Scot, it does change the chemistry of the assignment. Photographing Sean Connery, I took him the Polaroid, we got talking, shared memories of Edinburgh. In that circumstance, something happens; it becomes us against them.

When I fly out of New York now, arrive in Edinburgh and the wind hits, it's a nice feeling. I've been to 50, 100 of the most beautiful places in the world, but when I come back to Scotland I appreciate it with a fresh eye. There is a connection between the people and the landscape, which I think is important to understand. I photographed the standing stones in Orkney and there's something simple, monumental, about them. The French have the word brut, meaning uncut, rough or raw; there is something of this in the landscape of Scotland and in its people. But I don't find it ugly; I find it romantic. There's a northern simplicity, an earthiness. Scotland is about survival. You look at somewhere like the Polynesian islands: you want something to eat, you go fish in the blue waters; you want some fresh fruit, you pick from a tree. I'm not saying it is always easy for them, but you look at a fishing community in the Hebrides, now that was a brutal existence.

Kate Moss

Not long ago, I was in a small church up north, in Sutherland, and it was the most beautiful, simple, elegant building; I think of the Scottish people as being something like that. Contrast that with the Scottish Parliament building, which is just incredibly fussy. Why? And there were some practical mistakes, such as using beautiful stone for the floor in less trafficked areas and wood in the more populated areas so that now carpet has had to be gaffer-taped down to protect the wood. There are some good parts, such as the main entrance. But go to St Giles Cathedral; it's been around a few years and still looks pretty damn good.

Mike Tyson

I am not one to say that it should have been a Scottish architect. Today, you have to compete globally. But I was looking at the Bilbao Museum and I wondered what that would have looked like on top of Calton Hill. Scotland is a peninsula, surrounded on three sides by waves; Frank Gehry's work is driven by waves. Imagine that wonderful Edinburgh light catching it at different angles during the day. The building is complex, yet elegant. Would that have been better? But the Scottish people are stuck with it now. It's great that Scotland has a Parliament; it just could have been done differently, without limiting our outlook. Unfortunately, it's a characteristic that holds Scotland back; just consider that slogan 'the best small country in the world', it's so suburban. If Scotland thinks it's the best place in the world – and it has made some gigantic contributions to the world – just say it.

A final characteristic of Scots: honesty. Whether I'm photographing the Queen of England or a porter in Marrakesh, I treat them the same – with sympathy and honesty.

"I've been to 50, 100 of the most
beautiful places in the world, but
when I come back to Scotland I
appreciate it with a fresh eye"

PHOTOGRAPHER
Albert Watson is one of the world's most successful fashion and commercial photographers. His work has made the cover of Vogue more than 250 times, as well as Life, Newsweek and Rolling Stone and he has directed hundreds of television commercials. Critics described his two books, Cyclops and Maroc, as breathtaking. A third, Shot in Las Vegas, is published this year.