Paul Ashley Snapshot: Meeting a photographer who’s in high demand on Camdram

Spend any time at a Cambridge theater and you’ll come across the colorful work of retired environmental scientist, grandfather and beloved photographer Paul Ashley. Before finding shots on the ADC stage, Paul spent months living in countries in Africa, the Middle East and Southeast Asia as a geologist, locating and studying groundwater. In a way, it reminds me of many lives he has lived Barbie doll: there’s Paul, the geologist, Paul, the business owner, Paul, the environmental manager. Shockingly, Paul’s life as a photographer did not begin in earnest until much more recently.

Sitting down with the man himself, Paul told me that he had been taking photos all his life, but didn’t start photographing performances until he was asked to take photos of his choir (he’s also an amateur musician, by the way!). He then began shooting for local productions in Cambridge for the Corkscrew Theater and BAWDS. After one Trinity gardening show and the musical CUMTS, Paul was elevated through word of mouth to the position he now enjoys. By the end of his second year photographing student theater, his work had become a true mainstay on the stage.

“Paul is not the only photographer in Cambridge, but he is probably the most consistent.”

I ask what he particularly likes about student theater. He tells me he likes taking photos of people “doing things they’re good at.” It’s exciting to see people who “do it clearly because they enjoy it immensely.” The same can be said about Paul himself: he clearly loves what he does.

Paul’s approach is reactive and adaptive. He tells me his method – how he watches the programs he photographs, sometimes “covering” his ears and absorbing it visually, but also taking into account the history. His concerns are twofold – you need to take an “interesting” photo, but also capture the spirit of the production. Paul sees rehearsals without all the bells and whistles, so in a slightly broader context he relies primarily on dialogue. I ask him about the process of capturing the specific essence of each performance, and he happily talks about how he finds plot threads through careful listening and then tries to demonstrate interaction (“threat, emotion, something important”). ) by cropping.

Paul is not the only photographer in Cambridge, but he is probably the most consistent. He points out that there are photos of him and Johannes Hjorth (who left Cambridge many years ago) on the walls of the ADC theater. “It’s sad that there’s no one else,” he tells me. Perhaps this is not surprising – there is no shortage of barriers that aspiring photographers must overcome. For example, college students largely don’t have the resources to stockpile high-quality gear, unlike Paul, who shows up at every photo shoot with a beautiful selection of gear (“my cheat,” he chuckles to me).

“The power of photography can go beyond getting a few more butts off the ground.”

However, it would be wrong to suggest that Paul stands in opposition to student photography. “I’m not trying to force myself to do all this,” he tells me. He jokes that he has “a lot of expensive equipment that does it for me”, but emphasizes that students should not feel limited by its lack: “I would be happy if I just had a phone.” A photographer is created by creativity and hard work, not necessarily by the equipment at his disposal. It’s still hard being a newbie, but Paul believes the only solution is to “just do it.” He speaks optimistically about what more student photographers could bring to the scene, pointing to Jessi Rogers’ distinctive take on subject matter or Charlotte Conybeare’s exceptional film photography.

“I’d really like to see more student photographers,” Paul says seriously. I agree. Amid ongoing conversations about how to make the theater scene truly inclusive, there is a discussion about diversity of perspectives. The camera is another eye watching the scene, and we need to think more about that eye. Concerns were raised at last year’s CUADC racing workshop about photographers’ difficulty accurately capturing black and brown skin tones. The solution to this problem is not simply more photographers, but paying more attention to photography as part of the theater-making process can help capture all skin tones.

After all, the power of photography can go beyond drawing a few extra people into the audience. Paul notes the extraordinary pace at which this place churns out productions compared to the six-month or so rehearsal periods of city productions. To slow down life and channel all that energy and hard work into one image is something special. Actors will have their lines in their heads; technicians will forget the crazy last-minute requests from stressed-out directors; directors will stop being hounded by their productions in their sleep, but the images will remain. Much like the legend of Paul Ashley.