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Photographer and musician Malcolm Crowthers, best known for his images of classical musicians and composers, has taken to the water. And the miles he clocks up in swimming pools are making money for his neighbours.  VA is one of several organisations that have occupied premises below Malcolm’s top floor eyrie over the years. His is a home where music and photography vie for attention – and veterans seeking help from the homelessness charity often tell their stories to the accompaniment of ethereal classical piano music from ‘above’. “It can be slightly surreal,“ observed VA’s chief executive Dr Hugh Milroy, for whom the strains of Malcolm’s music are a welcome relief to some of the harrowing tales that unfold from homeless ex-Servicemen sitting in his office. “My first two loves were music and taking pictures. The first thing I ever asked for was a camera” said Malcolm. “But since the age of 10 I’ve been learning to play the piano – and I’m still learning, interestingly enough, most of all from teaching the piano to adult re-starters and beginners which has become a major enthusiasm, and judging from the joy and keenness of my pupils it seems to be catching!” Modesty aside, Malcolm recently made his first public appearance as a pianist since he was a music student giving two breakfast concerts at St George’s Hanover Square, Handel’s church, as part of a series called ‘Morning Calm.’ One of the pieces he performed was by Olivier Messiaen whom he ‘shot’ several times. Malcolm has been photographing in the field of classical music since 1980 and is published internationally. His portraits of composers Aaron Copland, Harrison Birtwistle, Pierre Boulez, Elliott Carter, Witold Lutoslawski, Arvo Part, Olivier Messiaen and John Tavener are acclaimed and feature on covers of books about the composers and LP/CD covers of their music. “I miss LPs,” he reflects. “You could make the pictures nice and big.” His portrait of Sir John Tavener for the BBC is in the National Portrait Gallery collection.  “I also have a great love of ecclesiastical ceremonial architecture and have illustrated with photographs several books on St Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, Westminster School, the Houses of Parliament and Durham Cathedral.” A highly qualified musician, former teacher at the Guildhall School of Music and one time music critic for The Daily Telegraph, Malcolm is a self-taught photographer. “And you have to be fit to be a photographer” he points out. “I suffer from terrible vertigo, but I love challenges and when they were building Portcullis House I actually climbed to the top of the crane opposite Big Ben and took a picture from right opposite the clock face. It was for “The Story of Parliament” book. The crane was swaying and there was a building behind the great tower that kept appearing and disappearing, and all I could do was wrap my arm round the steel mast of the crane and cling on. I felt like an insect on a grass stalk. I was leaning out, over space, with a glass atrium roof underneath me and nothing else. It was terrifying, but the picture was worth it and it got the back cover!” Despite having what he describes as ‘the freedom of the travel card’ Malcolm cycles most places and took up serious swimming to keep fit; but an encounter with one of VA’s ‘clients’ gave him a much stronger motivation to count his lengths. “I’d been reading about how incredibly important it is, when you get older, to be strong. As a photographer I frequently have to carry a lot of very heavy equipment. You have to be flexible, able to move very quickly and be agile. Anyway, at the beginning of May I decided I was going to start swimming seriously and have swum over 90 miles since.” “One day I came up the stairs here and I saw a man. The sight of him cut me to the quick and I thought, ‘I need to help people like him. How can I do this?’ Then I thought ‘Why don’t I use the swimming I am doing to raise money?’ That was the start of the ‘splash out’ thing.” “I came upstairs feeling deeply shocked by the state of this chap. I’d passed him in the little cubby hole where people sit when they come in to Veterans Aid. I was really distressed, so I went in later and spoke to Hugh about him and he told me his story. I was appalled. Soon after I decided to make my swimming count for something. My first charity mile was the 18th of August and I’ve kept a log ever since. My own Mile 90 was Mile 31 for the veterans!” Malcolm sees, more than most, the distressed ex-Servicemen and women who come to VA, and as a photographer he’s used to studying people. “But this man was different. There was something about that face. I saw a ruin of a person in front of me and it caused instant distress. I’ve never had that happen before. It just created a profound, emotional effect. He had a look of absolutely total, tragic ruin.” By mid-August Malcolm had raised £285 and intends to keep clocking up the miles for VA until the end of the year. The man he saw that day on the staircase is a former Royal Marine and elite ‘Kingsbadgeman’ who has been receiving help from VA over a long period. He’s not old, but chronic drinking and street life have devastated him mentally and physically. Even VA, with its impressive track record for getting addicts into detox and sorted out, had considered him beyond anything but palliative care. Victoria is a Mecca for London’s homeless but despite his close proximity to, and good neighbourly relationship with, VA, Malcolm had never been affected by any of its clients as he was by this young marine. Soon after Malcolm passed him on the stairs he asked if he could go for treatment. VA’s specialist caseworker Phil Rogers discussed the options and the charity decided to foot the bill. He and Malcolm have never formally met; nor will they. But each mile that Malcolm swims puts money into the hands of the organisation best placed to save a once outstanding soldier from becoming just another dead vagrant. |
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