Angus McBean (1904-1990)
 
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 Cecil Beaton called him the best photographer in the country; Lord Snowden declared him a genius. It is no exaggeration to say that Angus McBean revolutionized portraiture in the 1930s, or that he immortalized the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich and Elizabeth Taylor. Blending wit, drama and fantasy with the consummate skill of a master photographer, without a doubt  Angus McBean  has been one of the greatest influences on theatrical, portrait, creative and commercial photography in the last 100 years.
Cecil Beaton called him the best photographer in the country; Lord Snowden declared him a genius. It is no exaggeration to say that Angus McBean revolutionized portraiture in the 1930s, or that he immortalized the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich and Elizabeth Taylor. Blending wit, drama and fantasy with the consummate skill of a master photographer, without a doubt  Angus McBean  has been one of the greatest influences on theatrical, portrait, creative and commercial photography in the last 100 years.
Biography: His Life & Art
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Angus McBean was born in South Wales in June 1904. Despite the surname and the family's claim to be head of the sub-clan McBean, they had been Welsh for generations. Clem McBean was a surveyor in the mines and the family moved frequently around Wales with his job.  From an early age Angus  'always had to be making things', and with his own carpentry tools and pots of paints he became practised in decorating the succession of family homes according to his mother's 'artistic' tastes.
 He bought his first camera - a 2 and a half x 3 and a half inch autographic Kodak - and tripod as the Great War was ending. Fascinated by the apparently magical properties of photography, he wanted to be able to take pictures of people and sold a gold watch left to him by his grandfather to raise the five pounds necessary for the equipment.
He bought his first camera - a 2 and a half x 3 and a half inch autographic Kodak - and tripod as the Great War was ending. Fascinated by the apparently magical properties of photography, he wanted to be able to take pictures of people and sold a gold watch left to him by his grandfather to raise the five pounds necessary for the equipment.
Parental ambitions for  Angus  to become a draughtsman or a bank manager were dashed successively because he spent so much time on his photography - which he had managed to turn into a small business - his other crafts and his stargazing at the local cinemas and theatres. Along with his photography, for which he had graduated to a quarter-plate Ensign Popular Pressman reflex camera, he developed a particular aptitude for modelling masks and other theatrical props for amateur dramatics.
 In 1925, after his father's early death,  Angus  moved with his mother and younger sister to Acton in West London. He took a job in the antiques department of Liberty's where he learned to restore, and indeed to make, antiques. His spare time was devoted to mask-making and photography in a rudimentary studio and darkroom at home, and to theatre-going in the West End. He invested in a 'magnificent' half-plate Soho Tropical reflex camera that was cased in mahogany and brass. 'In those days, the bigger the negative, the better the quality of the final print and the easier to retouch'. He used it, along with hard Zeiss lenses and Kodak Panchromatic black-and-white plates, for nearly twenty years. 'I never knew what focal lengths they were or what film speeds were. I just knew what they could do for me.'
In 1925, after his father's early death,  Angus  moved with his mother and younger sister to Acton in West London. He took a job in the antiques department of Liberty's where he learned to restore, and indeed to make, antiques. His spare time was devoted to mask-making and photography in a rudimentary studio and darkroom at home, and to theatre-going in the West End. He invested in a 'magnificent' half-plate Soho Tropical reflex camera that was cased in mahogany and brass. 'In those days, the bigger the negative, the better the quality of the final print and the easier to retouch'. He used it, along with hard Zeiss lenses and Kodak Panchromatic black-and-white plates, for nearly twenty years. 'I never knew what focal lengths they were or what film speeds were. I just knew what they could do for me.'
After seven years he gave up his job at the department store, grew his distinctive beard to symbolize the fact that he would never be a wage-slave again, and began to win recognition as a maker of theatrical props. Among his early commissions were intricate pieces of medieval scenery for  John Gielgud's  1933 production of  Richard of Bordeaux  and some much praised  masks for an Oxford University Dramatic Society production of  Doctor Faustus  and a West End play,  Ballerina. Since this was a time when decorative wall masks were much used in fashionable interiors, his masks were much used in fashionable interiors, his masks of luminaries such as  Greta Garbo  and  Lloyd George  were also chronicled in social columns. While he was giving a small exhibitions in Mayfair of masks and a few photographs, the leading Bond Street photographer  Hugh Cecil  admired his striking portraits.
 McBean's  style of hard lenses, harsh lighting and dramatic shadows was in direct contrast  to  Cecil's  practice for his society clientele, but  Cecil  was impressed enough to offer the young man work as his assistant in his elegant Mayfair studio. Consequently, for a year  McBean  took all the photographs that went out under the  Cecil  name, submerging his own photographic instincts in the traditional Bond Street technique of the soft-focus lens and gauzed lighting. 'I learned all about negatives, however, and what a negative should look like. Those marvellous 12 x 10 [inch] glass plates, specially coated with a matt-surfaced emulsion could be drawn on, like handmade crayon paper, with an ordinary pencil.'
McBean's  style of hard lenses, harsh lighting and dramatic shadows was in direct contrast  to  Cecil's  practice for his society clientele, but  Cecil  was impressed enough to offer the young man work as his assistant in his elegant Mayfair studio. Consequently, for a year  McBean  took all the photographs that went out under the  Cecil  name, submerging his own photographic instincts in the traditional Bond Street technique of the soft-focus lens and gauzed lighting. 'I learned all about negatives, however, and what a negative should look like. Those marvellous 12 x 10 [inch] glass plates, specially coated with a matt-surfaced emulsion could be drawn on, like handmade crayon paper, with an ordinary pencil.'
Cecil  allowed his assistant to use the studio at night to take his own style of photographs, and after eighteen months  McBean  felt confident enough to set up a studio in a basement in Belgrave Road, Victoria. But 'the artist McBean', as he was described in magazines, continued to be best known for his masks.
 Through them  McBean  received his first photographic commission in the theatre in 1936.  Ivor Novello  had ordered some masks for a play -  The Happy Hypocrite  - in which he was starring with a new and very beautiful young actress,  Vivien Leigh. The matinee idol so liked the romantic photographs that  McBean  took in order to make his masks that he commissioned him to take a set of production photographs as well. The results, taken on stage with  McBean's  idiosyncratic lighting, instantly replaced the set already made by the long-established but stolid Stage Photo Company.  McBean  had a new career and a photographic leading lady: he was to photograph  Vivien Leigh  on stage and in the studio for almost every performance she gave until her death thirty years later.
Through them  McBean  received his first photographic commission in the theatre in 1936.  Ivor Novello  had ordered some masks for a play -  The Happy Hypocrite  - in which he was starring with a new and very beautiful young actress,  Vivien Leigh. The matinee idol so liked the romantic photographs that  McBean  took in order to make his masks that he commissioned him to take a set of production photographs as well. The results, taken on stage with  McBean's  idiosyncratic lighting, instantly replaced the set already made by the long-established but stolid Stage Photo Company.  McBean  had a new career and a photographic leading lady: he was to photograph  Vivien Leigh  on stage and in the studio for almost every performance she gave until her death thirty years later.
 Within months  McBean  had talked his way into the business of taking production photographs and selling theatre studies to the glossy weekly magazines.  Charles Laughton  in  Peter Pan , the magnificent Old Vic season that starred  Edith Evans  in  As You Like It  and  The Country Wife , and  Laurence Olivier  in his first  Henry V  and first  Hamlet  were just some of  McBean's  studies that immediately attracted the image-conscious acting profession. In a little over a year  McBean  had become the court photographer of the theatrical establishment, whether his clients were the player kings and queens of the Shakespearean stage or the stars of the West End, dominated by the H.M. Tennent of Hugh 'Binkie' Beaumont.
Within months  McBean  had talked his way into the business of taking production photographs and selling theatre studies to the glossy weekly magazines.  Charles Laughton  in  Peter Pan , the magnificent Old Vic season that starred  Edith Evans  in  As You Like It  and  The Country Wife , and  Laurence Olivier  in his first  Henry V  and first  Hamlet  were just some of  McBean's  studies that immediately attracted the image-conscious acting profession. In a little over a year  McBean  had become the court photographer of the theatrical establishment, whether his clients were the player kings and queens of the Shakespearean stage or the stars of the West End, dominated by the H.M. Tennent of Hugh 'Binkie' Beaumont.
 McBean's  portrait business also thrived in Belgrave Road and, after taking a series of debutantes' photographs for  The Sketch, he began experimenting in 1937 with some surreal portraits for the magazine. The subjects, usually beautiful actresses or actors of the moment, were placed in very detailed, specially constructed sets or landscapes in the studio. (Sand happened to feature in many of them because  McBean  once ordered a yard of sand and found it was rather more than he could sweep away!) The series was immensely popular, firmly established  McBean's  reputation and ran every week until the early months of the war. 'With ruins everywhere, it didn't seem very good taste to be photographing pretty ladies among artificial ones.' The war closed the London theatres and, although productions continued in the provincial houses,  McBean  decided he couldn't do much business, closed his studio and moved to Bath.
McBean's  portrait business also thrived in Belgrave Road and, after taking a series of debutantes' photographs for  The Sketch, he began experimenting in 1937 with some surreal portraits for the magazine. The subjects, usually beautiful actresses or actors of the moment, were placed in very detailed, specially constructed sets or landscapes in the studio. (Sand happened to feature in many of them because  McBean  once ordered a yard of sand and found it was rather more than he could sweep away!) The series was immensely popular, firmly established  McBean's  reputation and ran every week until the early months of the war. 'With ruins everywhere, it didn't seem very good taste to be photographing pretty ladies among artificial ones.' The war closed the London theatres and, although productions continued in the provincial houses,  McBean  decided he couldn't do much business, closed his studio and moved to Bath.  
In 1945, not sure whether he would find work again, he set up a new 
studio in a bomb-damaged building in Endell Street, Covent Garden. 
His Soho camera, without the Zeiss lenses, was sold for thirty-five 
pounds and he invested in a new half-plate Kodak View monorail camera onto which he attached 
his trusted lenses. He was commissioned first by the Stratford Memorial Theatre to 
photograph a production of  Anthony and Cleopatra, and all his former clients 
quickly returned. Through the late 1940s and 50s he was the official photographer at Stratford, the 
Royal Opera House, Sadlers Wells, Glyndebourne, the Old Vic and at all the productions of H.M. Tennent, 
servicing the theatrical, musical and ballet star system.
 Magazines such as  Tatler  and  The Sketch  vied to commission  McBean's 
 new series of surreal portraits. This time the series ran for over ten years and included sporting and 
literary notables, as well as theatrical personalities and almost every visiting 
transatlantic celebrity, such as  Mae West,  Martha Graham  and 
 Katherine Hepburn. In time  McBean  changed his Kodak for a metal 
Linhoff monorail half-plate - 'The most modern of its day' - and his experimentation 
took him further and further into tricks with montage and blow-ups and double-exposures. 
From 1945 his Christmas cards continued and became unfluential far beyond their 
original sphere.
Magazines such as  Tatler  and  The Sketch  vied to commission  McBean's 
 new series of surreal portraits. This time the series ran for over ten years and included sporting and 
literary notables, as well as theatrical personalities and almost every visiting 
transatlantic celebrity, such as  Mae West,  Martha Graham  and 
 Katherine Hepburn. In time  McBean  changed his Kodak for a metal 
Linhoff monorail half-plate - 'The most modern of its day' - and his experimentation 
took him further and further into tricks with montage and blow-ups and double-exposures. 
From 1945 his Christmas cards continued and became unfluential far beyond their 
original sphere.
In 1951  McBean  chose to feature a young and unknown chorus-girl in an advertisement for a 
beauty product. He posed her head and bare shoulders in sand alongside his favourite miniature 
classical colums, and the photograph appeared in chemists' windows all over the country. 
The girl was  Audrey Hepburn  and the picture led directly to a screen-test in Hollywood.
In the 1950s  McBean  also etablished a lucrative source of work taking photographic 
covers for record albums. With the growing pressure for colour work in this field he abandoned 
his half-plate camera - 'The half-plates had grown enormously expensive 
anyway and emulsions had got much better' - and changed to a 5x4-inch Sinar monorail. For 
colour work he acquired his first soft lenses. 'I felt illusions 
had to be preserved and of course I couldn't retouch colour.'
 A variety of young pop stars visited his studio in the early 1960s and one group 
so enjoyed their first photographic session with  McBean  that they later requested he should 
take the photograph for the cover of their first album. The photographer in turn so enjoyed their 
zany spontaneity that he posed them laughing over a balcony in the EMI offices in Soho. 
The LP was  Please, Please Me, the group were  The Beatles  and the photograph became one 
of the key images in the iconography of the swing 60s.
A variety of young pop stars visited his studio in the early 1960s and one group 
so enjoyed their first photographic session with  McBean  that they later requested he should 
take the photograph for the cover of their first album. The photographer in turn so enjoyed their 
zany spontaneity that he posed them laughing over a balcony in the EMI offices in Soho. 
The LP was  Please, Please Me, the group were  The Beatles  and the photograph became one 
of the key images in the iconography of the swing 60s.
At the same time, however,  McBean's  theatre work was coming to an end. The star system 
he had elevated had been washed down the theatrical kithen sink and, in the search for theatrical 
truths, directors and actors felt they no longer wanted  McBean's  artifice and could no longer 
afford the half-day photo calls that his technique demanded.
Faithful clients such as  Richard Burton  and  Elizabeth Taylor  insisted on using 
only   McBean  in the English theatre, and in 1970  the Beatles  asked him to recreate 
their famous pose for their last retrospective album. But the photographer 
gradually withdrew from active work and concentrated on restoring 
and furnishing his magnificent medieval house, Flemmings Hall, in Suffolk. In the early 1970s he sold 
his London home and last studio in Islington; to Harvard University he sold much of his collection 
of eight tons of glass negatives. At the age of 70,  Angus McBean  had officially retired.
 For a decade he took no photographs professionally, other than for a few Suffolk friends, and busied 
himself restoring antiques, making collages and sculptures out of resins, and creating 
hand-blocked wallpapers. Gradually, however, a remarkable revival of interest in his work began. Exhibitions 
were held, television programmes were made and  McBean  began a steady round of lectures. The first 
book on his work appeared in 1982.
For a decade he took no photographs professionally, other than for a few Suffolk friends, and busied 
himself restoring antiques, making collages and sculptures out of resins, and creating 
hand-blocked wallpapers. Gradually, however, a remarkable revival of interest in his work began. Exhibitions 
were held, television programmes were made and  McBean  began a steady round of lectures. The first 
book on his work appeared in 1982.
The following year the French magazine  L'Officiel  coaxed him out of retirement to take a series of 
colour fashion photographs. Although he had never worked outside Britain before, or with 
fashion models, the photographs were highly successful; he also photographed a series of pictures for 
French  Vogue.
 By his eightieth birthday    McBean  was restoring his second medieval house in Suffolk 
and undertaking occasional portrait studies and commissions from the pop and 
fashion worlds. The choice of milleux seemed appropriate because fantasy and make-believe had largely 
left the theatre and were now a staple of the pop music and fashion industries. In 1985  Angus McBean  
achieved apotheosis of a more formal kind when his earliest studio portrait of  Vivien Leigh , 
his favourite picture, was turned into a postage stamp.
By his eightieth birthday    McBean  was restoring his second medieval house in Suffolk 
and undertaking occasional portrait studies and commissions from the pop and 
fashion worlds. The choice of milleux seemed appropriate because fantasy and make-believe had largely 
left the theatre and were now a staple of the pop music and fashion industries. In 1985  Angus McBean  
achieved apotheosis of a more formal kind when his earliest studio portrait of  Vivien Leigh , 
his favourite picture, was turned into a postage stamp.
He died in 1990.